When eventually he turned his head to look at her, a glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes. ‘What’s your name, girl?’ His voice was curt.
‘Amy, sir.’
‘Amy what?’
‘Amy Ernshaw … sir.’ She was staring back at him now, her head high. If he was going to sack her, then so be it. But why was he staring at her like that? After all, dressing a hat wasn’t exactly a hanging offence, was it?
‘Haven’t we met before?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘Yes, sir, we ’ave, at Mary and Joe Turpin’s wedding reception.’ Her voice was clear, and suddenly recognition dawned in his eyes as he remembered her. It was the mob cap she was wearing that made her look so different.
After staring at her thoughtfully for some seconds he went on, ‘I believe you were the last person to leave this room on Saturday evening?’
‘Y … yes, sir.’ Her confidence suddenly flew straight out of the window.
‘Are you responsible for this?’ He pointed at the hat and without hesitation she replied, ‘Yes, sir.’
Molly had taught her never to lie, and if she were to be dismissed then at least she would go with dignity.
He stared unnervingly at her again but she looked him straight back in the eye.
‘I’m very sorry that I interfered with it. I know it was wrong o’ me but I didn’t like the sketch o’ the finished product. I felt it was too fussy and thought the shape o’ the hat lent itself to something a bit more stylish.’
Mr Forrester, Adam and the designers were obviously taken aback, and Amy felt herself flush at her own boldness. But still, it was said now and the way she saw it, she might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. She waited for Mr Forrester to erupt but instead he studied her intently. Then, suddenly turning about on his heel, he strode from the room.
‘Follow me,’ he ordered, and Amy meekly did as she was told, with the young Master Forrester close on her heels.
‘Aren’t you the young woman who made Mary’s wedding dress?’ Mr Forrester asked eventually as they climbed the steps to his office.
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, sir, I love designin’ clothes, especially hats; I spend a lot of my spare time sketchin’.’ Fumbling deep in her apron pocket, she withdrew half a dozen designs that she had drawn the night before. She boldly held them out to him and taking them, Samuel spread them out on the desk in front of him and he and Adam began to study them intently. When he finally raised his eyes, Samuel said, ‘Do you have any more of these?’
‘Yes, sir, hundreds back at home.’ She explained swiftly, ‘I carry a pencil and bits o’ paper about with me so that I can jot down ideas – in my breaks, of course,’ she added.
‘Do you know where Forrester’s Folly is?’ Mr Forrester asked eventually.
Bemused, Amy replied, ‘Yes, I do, sir.’
Mr Forrester glanced at his son, who nodded almost imperceptibly, before saying, ‘Right then, I would like you to bring some of your designs there tomorrow – shall we say at four o’clock? I shall ask Mrs Davis to let you leave work early.’
Amy nodded dumbly.
‘Very well. You may go about your duties now.’
On unsteady feet, Amy left the office and descended the staircase. The women’s eyes followed her curiously but Amy’s mind was in such turmoil that she didn’t even notice. Why would Mr Forrester want to see her designs, and why hadn’t he dismissed her? She had no answers as yet to her questions, but wild horses wouldn’t have stopped her from keeping their appointment – and the excitement in the pit of her stomach began to grow.
When she told Molly of the morning’s happenings later that evening, the old woman scratched her head in bewilderment. ‘An’ yer say you’re to go to Forrester’s Folly and he didn’t sack yer? Well, I don’t quite know what to make of it.’ But all the same she hurried away to look through Amy’s wardrobe, determined that she should look her best for her appointment.
It was a good walk to Forrester’s Folly from the factory, and the next day, armed with a bag full of her best sketches, Amy set off in good time with Mrs Davis’s consent. Her hair, which was confined in a mob cap at the factory, was hanging loose down her back and on her head was a pretty warm bonnet. She was wearing