The Ribbon Weaver - By Rosie Goodwin Page 0,15

him from the workhouse an’ he lives in wi’ Tom an’ his lot. Then there’s Seth – Mr Turpin – he’s head over all the stables an’ he lives in the rooms above the stable-block wi’ his missus, Winifred, an’ their kids. There was a butler an’ all when I first went there but he’s left now an’ it don’t look like they’re goin’ to replace him. I heard Mrs Benn say sommat about him bein’ surplus to requirements to the master when I passed ’em on me way to the laundry one day. And that’s about all the people I’ve got to know yet. Oh, except for the housekeeper, Mrs Benn, who I just mentioned, but she tends to keep herself very much to herself. Oh, and o’ course there’s Joe, he’s Seth’s son an’ one o’ the stable-boys. He lives with his mam and dad above the stables.’ As she mentioned Joe’s name she flushed a dull brick-red and Beatrice giggled.

‘Do yer fancy him then, our Mary? Is he handsome?’

Mary flushed an even deeper red if that were possible. ‘O’ course I don’t fancy him,’ she denied much too quickly and Molly and Bessie exchanged an amused grin. It sounded to them like Mary was developing her first crush, but neither of them wanted to embarrass her by pursuing it, so they quickly changed the subject.

The rest of the afternoon passed in happy chatter and when it was time to leave, Amy and Beatrice were allowed to walk Mary to the end of the lane with strict instructions to come straight back after seeing her off.

‘Yer will come again next Sunday, won’t yer?’ implored Amy as they parted.

Dropping a kiss on her unruly curls, Mary grinned. ‘’Course I will,’ she promised, and with a final wave she turned and hurried away.

‘One day I’m going to go and work with our Mary,’ Beatrice declared solemnly. ‘Will you come too, Amy?’

Amy shook her head. ‘No, I won’t,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘I’m going to work in the hat factory.’ And on that note the two little girls made their way home.

The rest of the summer passed pleasantly enough, with Mary’s visits one of the highlights of each week. Often, Molly would take Amy into town to shop. She had long since learned to avoid going in on Saturdays, for that was the day when the farmers brought their beasts into the cattle-market.

The butchers would be there, critically eyeing each animal as it arrived and once they had purchased the ones they wanted and struck a deal with the farmer, they would often slaughter them there and then, and sell off the joints of meat to the passers-by.

Amy had only witnessed this once and had become so hysterical that Molly had vowed never to let the child see it again. For months afterwards, Amy had suffered terrible nightmares and ever since, they had never gone into town on a Saturday again. More often than not, now they shopped on a Wednesday, which was also a market-day, and Amy looked forward to it. She loved the stalls and the hustle and bustle of the crowds and would drag Molly from one colourful display to another as the stallholders smiled at her indulgently and waved a cheery greeting.

Molly would swell with pride at the admiring glances. Amy was like a little ray of sunshine on a dark day and her mischievous but warm little nature made her shine all the more.

It was on one such day as they were walking along Abbey Street that Amy tugged on Molly’s hand and pointed ahead excitedly. ‘Look, Gran, look at the lovely horse and carriage.’ She almost dragged Molly along in her haste as Molly smiled indulgently.

‘Aye, I can see it, but slow down, love, or you’ll have me over.’

The carriage was some way away, stood outside the hat shop. When they were still some yards from it, Samuel Forrester suddenly stepped from inside the shop and, walking round to the other side of the carriage, he climbed inside, nodding to the driver as he did so to move on.

Amy was still dragging Molly along, intent on catching a closer look at the beautiful dapple-grey mare before it pulled away.

It was as they passed the fine carriage that Molly caught a glimpse of the woman inside. She supposed that this must be Josephine, Samuel Forrester’s wife, out on one of her rare outings, and instantly all the stories that Molly had ever heard of her were

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