The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Thirteen



The following Monday, Mr Harvey allowed Amy to serve a customer for the first time. She was looking very smart in her new skirt and blouse, and when the customer had finally gone he congratulated her on her efforts. The woman had wanted a hat to wear for her daughter’s wedding and had not been easy to please. But Amy remembered what she had been taught – ‘The customer is always right’ – and patiently brought one hat after another for the woman to try on until she had tried almost every hat in the shop. Eventually, to Amy’s delight, she chose one of Amy’s own designs and went away with it in a smart hatbox, very pleased with her purchase. Amy was amazed at how many women did come in wanting hats to wear for weddings and as she pondered on this, an idea began to form in her mind.

Immediately after dinner that evening, Amy retired to her room and set about sketching. By the time she arrived at the shop the next morning she was eager to share her idea with Mr Harvey, but they were all kept extremely busy and it was mid-afternoon, when Miss Drake had left, before she got the chance. At last she fetched her sketches and laid them out on the counter before him. Besides being an expert salesman, Mr Harvey also had a very good eye for detail and she would value his opinion as he had a knack of seeming to know what would appeal to the customers.

Slowly thumbing through the sketches, he listened to what Amy had to say. The designs were extremely good and he had to admit that he was impressed with them.

‘I’m sure there would be a market for these,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I’ve been amazed at how many of your customers come in looking for wedding hats, and if we could offer a range for the bride as well as for the bride’s mother … Well, we might make a double sale, particularly when word got around.’

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, peering through his pince-nez at the drawings. Amy could just have a point and he had never been one to dismiss a good idea without giving it a chance.

‘Leave these with me,’ he told her eventually, not wishing as yet to commit himself. ‘Mr Forrester will be calling round this evening and I will talk it over with him.’

Amy thanked him warmly. That night, she could hardly sleep. Tomorrow she might have a decision about her designs. But better yet, tomorrow she was going to the theatre. She would get to wear her beautiful evening gown and she tingled with pleasure at the thought.

She had barely set foot in the shop the next morning when Mr Harvey drew her towards the counter. ‘I had a word with Mr Forrester about your idea and showed him your designs,’ he told her without preamble. ‘And without wishing to raise your hopes, I think I can truthfully say that he thought it was a very good idea. I have to admit that I do too, but obviously there are certain things to be considered. Mr Forrester is actually visiting his London hat factory today and he is going to roughly price up the cost of making up such designs as these. Personally I can’t see that it will work out too expensive, but just be patient and I’m sure he will get back to you in due course.’

Amy clapped her hands with delight. ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Harvey, that’s wonderful!’ She darted to a far corner of the shop. ‘If he does decide to go ahead with this, I thought here would be a good place for the bridal display.’ She spread her arms wide. ‘This corner catches the light from the window. We could have all the hat-stands set at different heights to show the different styles, and perhaps we could drape a length of white satin down the wall behind them to show them off to their best advantage. What do you think?’

‘Yes, that could look very effective,’ he admitted. ‘But let’s wait and see what Mr Forrester has to say about it first, eh? And Miss Drake may well have some ideas to put forward.’

Content for now, Amy nodded, and as her mind now filled with thoughts of the imminent theatre trip again her excitement began to mount.

She had barely set foot in the house that afternoon when Nancy waylaid her. ‘Cook’s got yer meal ready early fer yer so that yer’ll ’ave more time to go and prink and preen,’ she informed her gleefully.

Amy shook her head. ‘Tell her thank you for me, would you, Nancy, but I couldn’t eat a thing! I’m so excited my stomach is in a knot.’

Nancy giggled; Amy’s excitement was infectious. ‘Well, go on up then and have yer wash. I’ll be up as soon as I can to help yer wiv yer ’air.’

Amy smiled gratefully at her before tripping away up the stairs. She had a long leisurely wash in the steaming hot water that Nancy had prepared for her and then washed her hair until it was so clean that it squeaked when she dried it on the towel. She then sat by the open window where she brushed it as it dried until it shone.

When Nancy appeared, she helped Amy into her dress, and after placing a box of hairpins on the dressing-table, she began to style her hair for her. ‘But don’t get peekin’ in the mirror until I’ve finished it,’ she warned with a chuckle. ‘I know exactly how I’m gonna do it and I want it to be a surprise.’

Amy obediently closed her eyes as Nancy began. It seemed to take forever but at last Nancy stood back to survey her work and, satisfied with the results, she told her, ‘All right, yer can look now.’

When Amy tentatively opened her eyes and looked in the mirror she hardly recognised the sophisticated young woman who stared back at her. Nancy had piled her hair high on top of her head then teased it to fall into shining fat ringlets that framed her heart-shaped face.

‘Oh, Nancy!’ Amy’s voice was incredulous. ‘You’ve done absolute wonders. I feel like a princess.’

‘Yer look like one an’ all,’ Nancy said proudly with a catch in her voice. ‘But come on now. Let’s be gettin’ yer downstairs otherwise they’ll be goin’ wivout yer.’ Snatching Amy’s shawl from the end of the bed she draped it about her slender shoulders before handing her the little silk bag.

As Amy stared at her newfound friend she wished with all her heart that she was coming too. But Nancy ushered her towards the door and with a little wave, she disappeared off into her own room.

Amy slowly descended the stairs, afraid of tripping on her voluminous skirts, and after taking a final disbelieving glance in the hall mirror she made her way to the drawing room. She had expected to find it empty as she was a little early, but to her surprise she found her elderly mistress waiting for her. Maude Forrester’s eyes softened at the sight of her. ‘Why, yer look absolutely lovely, pet,’ she said.

Amy flushed prettily. ‘Thank you … but why aren’t you ready too? The carriage will be here to pick us up soon.’

‘To tell yer the truth I’m not feeling too grand, so I’ve decided not to go. All I really want right now is me bed, but I wanted to see you in this mysterious gown before I went up. The only damn thing I’d managed to find out about it up until now is that it was green, but I do admit it was worth waiting for. Oh, and I wanted to catch you on your own because I have something for you.’

When Amy eyed her curiously the old woman lifted a black velvet box from a small table to the side of her. ‘I’d like you to wear these tonight,’ she said, and when she snapped the lid Amy gasped at the contents. Nestling against a bed of silk was an emerald and diamond necklace the like of which the girl had never seen before.

‘Oh no … I couldn’t,’ she protested, but the old woman flapped her hand at her, her usual no-nonsense self.

‘Of course yer can,’ she said decisively. ‘I want you to. It’s laid in its box for years. I always intended it to go to my granddaughter, Jessica. Emeralds were her favourite, yer see …’ Her voice trailed away and her eyes grew moist as she was swamped with memories, but then she pulled herself together again and ordered brusquely, ‘Come over here to me now, before I change me mind.’

And on shaking legs, Amy did as she was told.

‘That’s better, now bend down.’

Amy’s skirts billowed around her like a silken pool as she did as she was bid and now the old woman’s gnarled fingers fumbled with the clasp until she had secured the sparkling necklace about Amy’s slender throat.

‘There, that’s it. Now get up before yer crease your dress up.’

Too full to speak, Amy rose and stared down at her then, suddenly unable to control herself for a moment longer, she flung her arms about the old woman’s neck and hugged her fiercely as unshed tears trembled on her lashes.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered brokenly, overcome at her generosity. ‘I promise I shall guard it with my life.’

Mrs Forrester blew her nose noisily on a silk handkerchief. ‘Oh, just get yerself away before you have me going all soft on yer,’ she scolded, but her eyes were gentle.

Amy backed towards the door. ‘I wish you were coming.’ Disappointment was clear in her voice and the older woman smiled.

‘You’ll have so many admirers tonight yer won’t have time to miss me,’ she assured her. ‘Now go on … go and enjoy yerself.’

Amy slipped from the room just in time to see the master and mistress descending the stairs. Josephine Forrester looked radiant. About her neck was a glittering sapphire necklace that exactly matched the colour of her gown, and Mr Forrester looked resplendent in a full evening suit. They both smiled at her, pride shining in their eyes as Amy unconsciously fingered the necklace about her own throat. She felt as if she was floating, and when the sound of a carriage drawing up outside came to her ears she followed them silently, feeling like one of the princesses in Toby’s fairy stories.

The theatre proved to be everything she had dreamed of. After entertaining the ladies with an account of the recent scandal – for a walled-in skeleton of a stabbed gentleman had been discovered during building works – Mr Forrester helped them to alight from the carriage and escorted them, one on each arm, up the steps to the magnificent foyer. All around them were boards advertising the forthcoming attractions, and ladies drifted here and there like multi-coloured butterflies on the arms of immaculately dressed gentlemen. Amy was attracting more than a few admiring glances, and these were not lost on her master and mistress, who exchanged amused looks with each other.

Mr Forrester had reserved a box, and once they had been shown to it, Amy gazed down enthralled at the sea of faces below. The stage for now was curtained off with huge, heavily tasselled velvet drapes. People were milling about as they searched for their seats and occasionally, Mr Forrester would point out one of his acquaintances to his wife, who was surveying the audience through a small pair of opera glasses.

Eventually, everyone was seated and a hush fell on the crowd as the lights began to dim. The drapes slowly parted revealing the actors all in position, ready to begin Act I, Scene I of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. The smell of gas lamps and greasepaint hung heavy on the air and Amy leaned forward in her seat, eager not to miss a single word. By the time the curtains swished together again for the interval, she could hardly contain herself. She applauded loudly then turned to the Forresters, her cheeks glowing. They were served with glasses of sparkling wine from a silver tray right there in their private box, and Amy felt like royalty.

Attractive young men glanced appreciatively her way, wishing that they had an excuse to approach her, but their interest was lost on her because she was too wrapped up in the pleasure of the moment to notice.

As soon as the second half of the play commenced she was once again lost in the story, and when it finally reached its tragic conclusion tears were shimmering on her lashes and she applauded until her hands ached.

Their carriage was waiting outside when they left the theatre but the magical night was not quite over yet, as Amy was soon to discover. Mr Forrester helped both ladies into their seats and after a muttered conversation with the driver he then climbed in to join them.

‘We are going on a little detour on the way home,’ he informed Amy. ‘I thought you might like to see Buckingham Palace, my dear.’

Amy gasped as her hand flew to the precious necklace about her throat. This was truly turning into a night that she would never forget. In what seemed like no time at all they were trotting along The Mall, and then there was the Palace sprawled out before them in all its splendour. She stared past the enormous gates and the guards in dumbfounded amazement. It was absolutely magnificent – and to think that Queen Victoria and Prince Albert might be within those very walls even now! It was almost more than she could comprehend as she was dazzled by the many gas lamps that illuminated the palace. The scene was like something out of a fairytale.

On the way home she could speak of nothing but the wondrous evening they had just spent and the Forresters looked on fondly as they listened to her excited chatter. They too had enjoyed the evening almost as much as Amy had, for her unspoiled nature made her a charming companion. When they arrived back at the house they invited her into the drawing room for a nightcap but Amy politely refused. She had already drunk far more than she was used to at the theatre and was feeling light-headed and gay. She was also eager to visit the old mistress in her suite of rooms and return the beautiful necklace that she had so kindly entrusted to her. So, after bidding them both good night and thanking them profusely for such a treat, she sped up the stairs to the first floor, where Maude Forrester slept. She tapped at the door lightly, not wishing to disturb her should she be asleep, but almost immediately the old woman’s voice answered, ‘Come in.’

After slipping through the door, Amy crossed to the enormous brass bed where the woman lay propped up on a mound of lace-trimmed pillows. Amy had never seen her before without her face being heavily made-up, and now as she saw her stripped of her paint and powder and her flamboyant wig, she was shocked at how fragile the old woman looked. Her scalp showed through her sparse grey hair and she seemed to be lost in the sheets. She looked incredibly frail and ancient, but her face softened at the sight of Amy and laying aside a book that she had been reading she tapped the side of the bed.

‘Did you enjoy it then?’ she asked, although she already knew the answer from the look on Amy’s face.

‘Oh, Mrs Forrester … it was so amazing! But I wish that you had come.’ Amy was fumbling with the clasp of the necklace and after managing to undo it she placed it gently into the woman’s hands.

‘Thank you so much for allowing me to wear this,’ she said gratefully, and before the old woman could reply she began to tell her all about the play and the unforgettable evening she had just spent.

When she eventually crept from the room and went upstairs to her own, she found Nancy waiting for her, so as Nancy helped her out of her dress she related the whole tale all over again.

‘Cor blimey.’ Nancy was flabbergasted.

Amy giggled as she stepped out of her petticoats, saying, ‘Oh Nancy, you do talk funny.’

‘Huh! Yer cheeky bugger. I could say the same about you,’ Nancy retaliated. ‘There’s nuffink wrong wiv the way I speak. I’m a true Cockney, born wivin the sound o’ Bow Bells an’ proud of it.’

Happy to be alive, Amy impulsively hugged her and Nancy hugged her back.

‘I shall never be able to sleep tonight,’ Amy trilled. ‘I’m far too excited.’ But only minutes later, when Nancy had left the room, she laid her head on the pillow and went out like a light.

On the following Saturday, Nancy had the afternoon off and so she and Amy decided that they would go shopping. Amy wanted to buy some presents, one for her gran and one for Toby, so Nancy offered to take her to the Leather Lane market, off Holborn in the City, ten minutes’ walk from St Paul’s Cathedral.

‘Don’t go wearin’ none of yer new fancy clothes though,’ she warned. ‘The pickpockets round ’ere are rife, an’ if they have an inklin’ that yer well to do, they’ll stick to yer tail like glue.’

Amy sensibly did as Nancy had suggested and went out in the shabby clothes in which she had arrived. She enjoyed the teeming market immensely, although it was a very different world from the shops she had visited with Josephine Forrester. The friends went from stall to stall trying to choose suitable presents. Eventually Amy found a warm woollen shawl for her gran. It had been handknitted by the stallholder and was a lovely shade of blue, not too bright nor yet too dark. But Toby’s present was another matter entirely and she just couldn’t decide what to buy him.

‘I know,’ Nancy suggested, trying to be helpful, ‘wharrabout a book? Yer said he loves reading’ an’ I know where there’s a good bookshop.’

Amy nodded. It was a brilliant idea, so arm-in-arm they strolled through the busy marketplace and as they went a thousand smells assailed her. There was a stall with fish of all shapes and sizes laid out on large stone slabs amidst heaps of ice. Another stall displayed colourful arrays of fruit and fresh and some not so fresh vegetables. A butcher’s stall had salted joints of meat with flies buzzing around them, and here and there were crates containing live birds – chickens, cockerels and geese all cackling indignantly at their treatment. Underfoot, the cobbles were strewn with straw, and flowersellers held their bright posies out to the girls as they passed by. Another stall boasted bottles and jars of potions, claimed to cure all ills. Amy screwed up her nose as they passed. Here and there were barrows selling hot chestnuts and others selling mushy peas. Amy scarcely knew where to look first and stayed close to Nancy’s side as they wended their way through the thronging crowds. Eventually, Nancy struck off down a narrow cobbled alley that stank of urine and something Amy couldn’t distinguish until they came to a grimy shop window.

‘This is it,’ Nancy declared. ‘It might not look much from the outside, but if yer able to read, which I ain’t, more’s the pity, then I’m told it’s a treasure trove.’

Amy wasn’t so sure. The windows were so dirty that she could barely see inside and paint was peeling from the doors and sills. Still, she followed Nancy trustingly inside and the smells of ink and leather immediately greeted her. She saw at once that the inside was not much cleaner than the outside. On one side of the shop new books were displayed in neat regimental rows, at complete variance to the other side of the shop which was piled with second-hand ones. It was to these that she headed. Everywhere she looked were dusty bookshelves sagging beneath the weight of the numerous volumes piled upon them. Books were strewn everywhere in untidy piles all over the floor, but soon she forgot the smell as she began to lift them one by one and browse through them.

At last she found just what she was looking for. It was an atlas, with maps of various parts of the world on every page she knew instantly that Toby would love it.

It was two shillings, which Amy considered to be quite expensive, but also in very good condition, and so she paid for it without a qualm, happy with her choice and trying to imagine Toby’s face when she gave it to him.

Nancy was horrified and berated her as they left the shop. ‘Yer must be soft in the bloody ’ead!’ she scolded. ‘Fancy payin’ two whole bob just fer a bleedin’ book.’

Amy just laughed at her, highly amused at her reaction. Once they had retraced their steps and were back in the market, Nancy asked, ‘Have yer ever tried jellied eels?’

Amy shook her head.

‘Well, we’ll ’ave to put that right. Yer can’t come to London wivout tryin’ jellied eels. Lovely they are, caught fresh from the Thames each day.’ So saying, she took Amy’s hand and almost dragged her along until they came to the stall she had been seeking.

As Amy stared down at the glutinous mass Nancy placed in her hand a few minutes later, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Ugh, you don’t really expect me to eat this, do you?’ She shuddered.

Nancy laughed. ‘Just shut yer eyes an’ try it,’ she urged. ‘You’ll love it,’ she promised with her own mouth full.

Gingerly, Amy lifted a small piece of the slimy slippery fish and raised it to her mouth. ‘Ugh!’ She spat it out in horror, oblivious to manners, and Nancy almost choked with laughter. Amy looked suspiciously as if she was going to be sick and had turned a very unbecoming shade of grey.

‘What’s up, mate? Don’t yer like ’em?’ the other girl quipped.

Wiping her mouth on her handkerchief, Amy managed to mutter, ‘I’ve never tasted anything quite so revolting in the whole of my life.’

‘Well, give ’em ’ere then,’ Nancy told her. ‘Yer know what they say, waste not want not.’ Snatching the offending delicacy from Amy’s hand she began to cram the contents into her mouth, causing Amy to turn even greyer if that was possible. Her poor stomach rebelled all the way home, much to Nancy’s amusement.

‘Yer don’t know what’s good fer yer, that’s the trouble wiv you,’ she giggled, but just this once, Amy had to disagree with her. One thing she was sure of, a jellied eel would never pass her lips again for as long as she lived.

The rest of Amy’s stay in London passed all too quickly, and just five days before she was due to leave, Mr Forrester, returning late one evening, asked her to join him in his study.

‘I wanted to talk to you about the bridal bonnet sketches,’ he told her almost immediately. Amy listened with her hands folded demurely in her lap and her heart thudding with anticipation.

‘I’ve given this idea a great deal of thought and I’ve also made extensive enquiries about the costing, et cetera, of producing these designs. I have to say I think it’s an extremely good idea – but I also wondered if perhaps we couldn’t take it a stage further?’ He was pacing up and down the room with his hands joined behind his back, and after a moment he went on, ‘Mr Harvey and I both feel that a shop offering such bonnets could become very popular. Even more so if we could offer bridal gowns to wear with them, which got me to thinking … didn’t you design young Mary Turpin’s wedding gown?’

Flustered, Amy nodded as he stopped his pacing to stare at her.

‘Then do you think you might be capable of turning out designs to complement the hats?’

With her mind racing, Amy gulped deep in her throat before looking him straight in the eye. ‘Yes, sir. I think I could.’

‘I thought you would say that,’ he smiled. ‘So tomorrow, please take advantage of this room and see if you can come up with a few ideas, then in the evening we will look at them together.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Amy rose and after bobbing her knee she retreated from the room. She could barely take in what Mr Forrester had just suggested but her chin set. She could do it, she knew she could: all she had to do now was prove it – and that was exactly what she set out to do.

Following the evening meal the next night, Amy and Mr Forrester once again retired to his study and she spread out several designs on the desk before him. She had worked until the early hours of the morning on them and was so tired that she was sure she could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but she was also very excited and nervous about what he might think of them. He studied them intensely for some time, picking up first one then another until finally he raised his head and smiled at her.

‘It seems to me that I’d better be on the look-out for some seamstresses,’ he said, and Amy’s heart leaped.

Grasping her small hand in his large one, her employer shook it gently up and down. ‘I think that Forrester’s Bridal Wear has just been born, my dear, and I also think that in the future I’m going to be keeping you very busy indeed.’

Amy could only gaze at him with a large lump in her throat as all her plans and dreams began to become a reality.