The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Twenty-Two



‘Ah, please say yer’ll come, Amy!’ Nancy’s eyes were imploring. ‘I know yer’d enjoy it an’ my Billy ’ud make sure as yer didn’t fall.’

Amy had grave misgivings and pursed her lips. ‘But I’ve never been ice skating in my whole life, Nancy,’ she pointed out truthfully.

Nancy giggled. ‘Well, then it’s about time yer did. Yer know what they say, there’s a first time for everyfink. Now come on an’ stop bein’ such a spoilsport. What do yer say?’

‘Oh, very well then, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go. But don’t get blaming me if I pull you over,’ Amy said sullenly.

Nancy threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘You pull me over? Huh, there’s about as much chance o’ that as a snowball’s chance in ’ell! Yer don’t weigh as much as a bag o’ spuds wet through. But I’d best be off now. Billy’s ma will ’ave the tea on the table an’ she’ll skin me alive if it’s ruined. We’ll meet yer at the Serpentine Bridge in Hyde Park at seven, an’ make sure yer wrap up warm. I’ll bring yer a pair of skates, so don’t go worryin’ about that.’

‘I will,’ Amy promised, still wondering if she had done the right thing in agreeing to go. Nancy gave her a final wave and disappeared through the door humming merrily.

Amy wondered what she had let herself in for. This would be her final night in London this year, and she was looking forward to going home to her gran and having a whole week off before Christmas. Now that Nancy no longer lived in, she missed their late-night chats and usually ended up going to bed early to sketch or read a book. But tonight she was going skating, and hoped she wouldn’t end up breaking her ankle or something equally as painful.

Still, there was no getting out of it now. She had promised Nancy she would go, so she would do the best she could and hope that she didn’t make too much of a fool of herself.

Despite her misgivings, Amy had an exhilarating evening and when it was over, she moved through the throng with her friends and kissed them both soundly at the park gates. It would be the last time she would see them before Christmas and they all hugged each other fondly before parting on a happy note. As Amy watched the couple walk away with their arms entwined, she sighed happily. They were obviously very deeply in love, and seeing them so wrapped up in each other made her thoughts turn to François. She wished that he could have been here tonight to share in all the fun. But then, even as the thought crossed her mind she realised that she somehow just couldn’t picture him larking about as Billy had. Blinking the snow from her eyelashes as Nancy and Billy disappeared around a corner, she herself turned about and headed for home.

As she hurried along Kensington Gore, she wondered what Nancy would make of the Christmas present she had bought for her and Billy. She wanted it to be a surprise and had left it with Cook, with strict instructions that she wasn’t to give it to them until Christmas Eve. It was a fine china teaset that would have graced the table of any lady, and Amy had known the moment she spotted it in an expensive china shop in Piccadilly that Nancy would love it. However, whether it would ever be used or not was a different matter entirely, as Nancy would probably say it was far too lovely to risk it getting broken. The happy thoughts speeded her footsteps and soon Amy was back in the warmth of the big house in Sloane Street, frozen through but happily content.

Before leaving the next day she also left prettily wrapped presents for Mrs Wilcox, the housekeeper, and Cook, and they both thanked her sincerely.

‘Now you’re not to open them until Christmas Day,’ Amy warned them with a teasing smile.

‘We won’t, luv,’ Cook assured her. ‘An’ God bless yer. You’re a good girl, Amy, an’ this has been a happier house since you came into it, there’s no doubt about it. But now you get yerself off ’ome an’ ’ave a lovely Christmas. Oh, an’ give me love to that gran o’ yours, ’cos I ain’t afraid to say it, yer a credit to her.’

Amy left in a happy mood, her only concern that the train might be delayed because of the atrocious weather conditions. Thankfully it was on time and once she was back in Nuneaton she took a carriage to the end of the lane where the coachman told her regretfully, ‘Sorry, miss, but I ain’t goin’ to be able to get up there with the snowdrifts. Will yer manage yer luggage?’

‘I’ll be fine, I don’t have that far to go,’ she assured him, and after paying him she began to struggle up the lane with her heavy valise and a large box containing the rest of the Christmas presents that she had bought in London. She was almost halfway along when Toby appeared out of the darkness, his face covered in coal dust and his hands grimy, fresh from his shift at the mine.

Laughing, he took the large box from her and exclaimed, ‘Good grief, woman! What have you got in ’ere? Is it full o’ lead off the church roof or somethin’?’

Amy blinked the snow from her eyes as she moved her valise from one hand to the other. ‘Actually it’s full of Christmas presents for you, my gran and your mam,’ she told him, and with their heads bent they battled on, contently silent in each other’s company. Suddenly, she was very glad to be home.

By the time Amy opened the door of the cottage, her feet were so cold that she had lost all feeling in them and her nose was glowing. She was so tired that she was sure she could have slept for a month, but the sight that met her eyes made her forget all about her tiredness, and she stopped so abruptly that Toby almost ran into the back of her. She never failed to experience a sense of homecoming whenever she entered the cottage, but tonight she felt as if she was walking into a Christmas grotto. Holly and mistletoe were everywhere she looked, and in pride of place next to Molly’s dresser stood a little Christmas tree that Molly had decorated with remnants of ribbons all the colours of the rainbow, left over from her ribbon-weaving days.

Molly smiled at the look of pleasure on Amy’s face as she asked eagerly, ‘Do yer like it, lass?’

‘Like it? Why, it looks absolutely beautiful, Gran,’ Amy answered truthfully as she dropped her valise on to the floor and flexed her frozen fingers.

‘I can’t take all the credit for it,’ Molly admitted. ‘Most of it is down to our Toby ’ere. He nearly ripped his hands to ribbons, God bless him, collectin’ all this holly an’ mistletoe. But we thought yer’d like it.’

As Amy’s appreciative eyes swept the room, Toby looked embarrassed, and hurriedly crossing to the table, he deposited the large box on it.

As Amy’s eyes settled on a big bunch of mistletoe hanging from one of the beams she had the urge to kiss him there and then, but she wisely stemmed it, not wishing to embarrass him any more than he already was.

Holly was strewn all along the mantelpiece, its scarlet berries glowing in the firelight, and candles standing erect in little pot saucers were dotted here and there adding to the enchantment of the cosy scene.

‘I’ve brought you something that might make the tree look even prettier if that’s possible,’ Amy bubbled as she hurried to the box that Toby had placed on the table.

‘But it ain’t Christmas Day yet. Yer shouldn’t be givin’ out presents just now,’ Molly objected.

‘It doesn’t matter. This is something that you can have right away.’ Amy rummaged about in the box as excited as a child and eventually withdrew an ornate gold box. Carrying it to the hearth, she beckoned Molly to join her and once the old lady was seated in her old rocking chair, Amy placed it into her twisted hands.

‘Go on, Gran, open it,’ she urged expectantly.

‘Well, I’ll be!’ Molly exclaimed when she had done as she was told and withdrawn the first of its contents. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anythin’ quite so fine in the whole o’ me life.’ In the palm of her hand was a small blown-glass ornament suspended from a fine silver cord in the shape of a little reindeer. Eager to see the rest now she delved into the box again and this time she came up with a snowman. One by one she unwrapped the contents to reveal an angel and a bell, and so it went on until she had twelve items in all spread out across the coarse calico apron that covered her lap.

‘They’re for the Christmas tree.’ Amy’s eyes were dancing as much as the flames that were licking up the sooty chimney, but Molly was so taken with her gifts that she could only stare at them in awe.

‘By the gods, it’s just amazin’ what they can do nowadays,’ she muttered as she turned the baubles over one by one. ‘But I reckon you an’ Toby had best put ’em on the tree. Wi’ my old butter fingers I’d likely drop ’em.’

Amy and Toby spent a pleasant few minutes doing just that before sitting back on their heels to admire them.

After a while Toby stood up and told her, ‘I’d better get off now. I ain’t even washed the muck off me yet an’ me mam will be thinkin’ I’ve got lost.’

‘Thanks for helping with all this,’ Amy told him as she spread her hands.

‘It were nothin’.’ He flushed self-consciously and then with a nod towards Molly he hurried away.

Soon Amy and Molly were seated at the table enjoying the leg of pork and crispy roast potatoes that Molly had cooked that afternoon. This was followed by a steaming hot dish of apple dumplings all dripping in sugary syrup. When Amy had scraped the last of the syrup from her bowl she leaned back and patted her full stomach contentedly.

‘There’s no one can make dumplings like you, Gran,’ she sighed. ‘But let’s leave the dirty pots until the morning, eh?’

Just this once, Molly agreed. ‘I dare say they’ll keep.’

They retired to the sofa where Amy tucked her legs up beneath her and rested her head on her gran’s bony old shoulder. They were both shrouded in an air of well-being and contentment, and as Amy stared into the fire she whispered, sleepily suppressing a yawn, ‘Do you know what, Gran? I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever.’

Stroking the girl’s hair, Molly smiled down at her, happy with her lot. ‘Let’s hope so, pet,’ she sighed contentedly. ‘Let’s hope so.’