back. She was well aware of the sacrifices that Molly had made for her. To Amy’s mind, Molly needn’t have taken her in when her mother died. But she had, and for that alone, Amy would always be grateful. Molly had never really spoken too much about her daughter, except to tell Amy that she had been beautiful, and that her father had died before she was born. Amy didn’t like to ask too many questions for fear of upsetting her, although at times she ached to. But sometimes when she was tucked up warm in bed at night, her imagination, which was lively at the best of times, would run riot.
Molly had told her that she looked very much like her mother, so Amy would lie there in the darkness trying to picture her mother in her mind and wishing she could have known her. Even so, she was more than happy with her lot and though she regretted never knowing her parents, she couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone more than she loved her gran.
The evenings she spent with Toby were few and far between now, for most nights after her evening meal, all she wanted to do was fall into bed. Toby himself was very busy, too. As well as doing his shifts down the pit, he was also working for a few hours a week in the village school now, teaching the local children – and more than ever he now longed to make that job his career. On Sundays though, which was their day off, Amy would draw him sketches of some of the hats that were being produced, and then alter them to her own designs.
Toby was greatly impressed. Like Molly, he felt that Amy’s talent was being wasted. But every time he voiced his opinion, Amy would simply smile. For now she was content.
‘Everyone has to start somewhere, and patience is a virtue,’ she would say and Toby would smile back, his face softening and his blue eyes proud.
As Mary’s wedding day in mid-June approached, the cottages became a hive of activity. Bessie had scrimped and saved for months to buy the material to make the wedding dress. And then once it was purchased she and Molly sat long hours into the night stitching it. Molly’s fingers were nowhere near as nimble as they had used to be, but even so the finished product was breathtaking.
Amy herself had designed it and supervised Molly and Bessie closely. She bought a plain poke bonnet and stitched a veil into it, and the few people who were allowed to see it before the big day swore that they had never seen anything quite like it. Once the veil was stitched to her satisfaction she then took scraps of ivory silk and made them into tiny flowers that she sewed all around the brim. And then at last it was finished and all they had to do was wait.
The big day finally dawned, and it was just as perfect a day as any bride could wish for. Amy intended to enjoy every minute of it.
The little church in Coton was bulging at the seams, and as all heads turned to watch the radiant bride walk down the aisle on her father’s Jim’s arm, a gasp of admiration could be heard. Mary fairly floated and was everything a bride should be, and Bessie looked fit to burst with pride although her sniffs could be heard all through the ceremony.
When the happy couple finally left the church as man and wife, they were greeted with a shower of rose petals and rice. Mary’s new husband Joe looked as proud as Punch and could barely take his eyes from her, and as they ran down the path of the Parish Church, the church bells pealed joyously. Once they were seated in the pony and trap, Mary threw her bouquet high into the air. It seemed to hang there for some seconds, its trailing ribbons fluttering in the warm breeze, and then suddenly it plummeted down and landed straight in Amy’s arms. She giggled nervously as she looked up and caught Toby’s eyes. He flushed and turned away and suddenly confused, Amy stared at him, but then a cheer went up as the pony and trap bore away the bride and groom, and the strange moment was gone.
Once they were all back at the Bradleys’ cottage, the merrymaking began in earnest. Borrowed tables, which had all been pushed together, stretched the length