next afternoon off who came up with a solution to their problem. They were all sitting around Molly’s scrubbed oak table and Mary was filling them in with the goings-on at Forrester’s Folly.
‘The poor master’s in a right old flap,’ she told them. ‘The influenza epidemic that has been going around has swept through the hat factory and the workers are dropping like flies. I heard the master tell the mistress when I was serving their tea that he’s desperate for workers to fulfil a big order he’s got.’
Amy’s ears pricked up immediately. ‘Do you think there’d be any chance of me being taken on?’ she asked hopefully.
Mary shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. Why don’t yer go round there tomorrow and ask. You’ve nothing to lose, have yer? The very worst they can say is no.’
Amy hugged herself; she had always longed to work in the hat factory. ‘Would that be all right with you, Gran?’
The old woman sighed in defeat. ‘I suppose it would be safe there,’ she admitted grudgingly.
‘It’s decided then,’ Amy said. ‘First thing in the morning, I’ll go round there and try my luck.’ And that’s exactly what she did.
It was bitterly cold when she set off the next morning. The wind had dropped and for now it had stopped snowing, but the sky was grey and leaden. Molly saw her off from the door like an old mother hen.
‘It’s going to snow again, I can smell it,’ she warned Amy. ‘So just mind yer come straight home and don’t go talkin’ to no strangers.’ All the time she was talking she was tucking the collar of Amy’s woollen coat tighter under her chin.
Amy grinned. ‘I’m not a baby, Gran.’
In that minute Molly had to admit to herself that indeed she wasn’t. Besides her warm new coat she had a pretty warm shawl that she herself had decorated with burgundy velvet ribbons to match her coat, and it kept her head warm. Her hair, which only minutes before had been brushed, was already springing out, the shining auburn curls spilling down her back, and with her bright eyes and rosy dimpled cheeks she looked incredibly pretty.
As she went swinging off along the snow-covered cobbles, Molly watched her sadly. At the end of the lane, Amy turned and waved, and then she was gone. Suddenly Molly felt very old and alone. She had always known deep inside that she couldn’t tie Amy to her apron strings for ever, and now it was time to start to let go.
Amy was bubbling with excitement. She knew all the short-cuts through the labyrinth of cobbled alleys in Nuneaton town centre, and despite the hindrance of the deep snow, she made the journey to the hat factory in record time. When she got there, her cheeks were glowing with the cold and her breath hung on the air, but suddenly the excitement waned and was replaced by nervousness. The factory was a large building with the hat shop that displayed its wares to the front and a door to the side of it which led to the factory. In the hat-shop window were hats of all shapes and sizes, some trimmed with artificial flowers, some with feathers or veils, and some with the locally woven ribbons all the colours of the rainbow. She stood for some minutes admiring them as she had ever since she was a child.
From the back of the shop in the factory she could hear the dull whirr of the machinery, so taking a deep breath, Amy drew herself up to her full height and made her way in, her head held high.
By the time she left it had begun to snow again, just as Molly had predicted, but Amy hardly noticed it, and flew down the alleys in a most unladylike manner. She was breathless by the time the familiar cottages came into sight but she never once slowed her steps and almost fell into the kitchen in her haste to tell Molly her news.
‘I’ve got a job, Gran!’ she shouted. ‘Only as a runabout for now, but it’s a start, ain’t it?’
Molly couldn’t help but be pleased for her. ‘Well done, lass,’ she said, and while Amy chattered on about the factory she hurried about getting her a warming mug of broth.
Amy was so full of her good news, it was hard to get a word in sideways but eventually Molly managed it. ‘When do yer start?’ she asked.