after a good night’s sleep. I’ve just picked up a bit of a cold.’
Amy’s troubled eyes caught Toby’s as Molly hobbled off to the stairs. Her bed was upstairs in the tiny room next to the one that housed her loom.
‘See yer lock up now when Toby’s gone,’ Molly ordered as she climbed the wooden staircase. ‘Goodnight, me darlin’s.’ Every step was an effort. She felt as if she was climbing a mountain and ached in every bone in her body.
The two young people watched her slow progress, and when she was out of sight, Amy said worriedly, ‘She does too much.’ Pushing the plug into the large stone bottle she had just filled from the kettle, she wrapped it in an old pillowcase, saying, ‘I’ll just take this up to Gran and then I’ll show you the sketches I did last night.’
Toby nodded and his eyes followed her as she skipped lightly up the steps. Then, turning, he placed one hand on the mantelpiece and stared down into the flames, his thoughts racing.
Amy would be fifteen soon and old enough to marry, and he would have plucked up the courage and asked her in a second, if he’d thought she’d accept. But in his heart he knew that she wouldn’t, and it hurt him deeply. Oh, he had no doubt that she loved him, but as a brother, whilst his own feelings for her had been growing steadily with the years. Why else would he still be living at home at twenty-two years old with his mam and dad? Still, life had its consolations and as long as he could see her and be near her every day, then he was happy.
When Amy had tucked the stone bottle into the bottom of the bed she pulled the counterpane up to Molly’s chin and planted a gentle kiss on the old woman’s brow. The skin felt feverishly hot and Amy said, ‘Look, Gran, if you need me in the night just call, eh? I’ll be in straight away.’
Molly offered her a weak smile. ‘Will yer just stop fussin’? I’ve told yer all I need is a good night’s rest an’ I’ll be right as rain. Now be off with yer an’ let me get some sleep.’
Amy grinned and within seconds was back in the kitchen with Toby where the grin slid from her face. ‘I’m really worried about her,’ she confided fretfully. ‘Do you think I should fetch the doctor in?’
Toby shook his head. ‘No, Molly’s a tough old bird, happen she’s just caught a chill as she said,’ he reassured her, and soon they were sitting with their heads bent at the table, as Amy showed him her latest sketches.
Upstairs in her tiny room, Molly lay shivering beneath the heavy layers of blankets. She had on a warm flannel nightdress, a thick woollen shawl and knitted bedsocks. Yet even with all these and the hot stone bottle pressed to her feet she couldn’t seem to get warm, and sleep evaded her. She was thinking of the two young people whom she loved most in the whole world, who were at this minute sat together at the kitchen table, no doubt poring over some book or sketch.
This winter was taking its toll on Molly and it wasn’t even Christmas yet, which meant there were still months of cold weather to come. Lately it was becoming harder to get up in the mornings and even with Amy’s help she always felt tired.
She could sense restlessness in Amy now. All of the other girls from the cottages and hereabouts had been working for some time, and occasionally Amy complained with a smile that she was being ‘Molly’-coddled. In truth, she was right, but no job she had suggested as yet seemed good enough for her to Molly.
She had such high hopes for the girl. Amy could read and write, besides which she was also a very talented artist. All this, plus the fact that there was something about her that seemed to place her in a class far above the people hereabouts: some quality that seemed to shine from within. Placing her chilly feet on the stone bottle, Molly sighed. What opening was there around here for her granddaughter, as she always thought of her? The majority of girls of Amy’s age had gone into service in the big houses, or into the factories that dotted the town. But Molly wanted better than that for Amy, and although she had wracked her