as he was told, while from her high-backed brocade chair, the old woman studied Amy closely. The girl she had last met over a year ago had turned into a very beautiful young woman, and her personality and nature seemed to match her looks. Over the last two hours as she explained the different sketches she had brought to them, her enthusiasm had deeply impressed the old woman. There was a freshness about her designs that set them apart. Some of the sketches were extremely plain, yet stunningly elegant in their simplicity. The old woman had put some of her particular favourites to one side, and as Lily wheeled in the tea-trolley it was of these that she spoke.
Ushering the maid away impatiently with a flap of her hand she ordered brusquely, ‘Pour the tea, girl.’
Trembling, Amy did as she was told, her hand shaking beneath the weight of the ornate silver teapot. Once or twice a few drops of tea splashed on to the fine bone china saucers and she prayed that the master and the old mistress wouldn’t notice. If they did, thankfully they didn’t comment, and when they had been served she sat back uncomfortably, her own cup and saucer rattling in her hand as Adam grinned at her. She had never seen a tea service the like of this before in her whole life. Not even in the china-shop window in the town. Painted on it were delicate red and white roses, and it was so fine that she could see her hand through it. She suddenly wished with all her heart that Molly could see it too, for her gran was partial to a nice bit of china. Although her whole collection only amounted to a few plates, nowhere near as fine as this, she displayed them on her oak dresser in the kitchen with pride.
The old mistress’s voice pulled Amy’s thoughts sharply back to the present and she started. She was addressing her son, and Adam and Amy listened quietly.
‘If you go on my advice, Sammy,’ she stated, ‘you’ll have a good number o’ the designs I’ve put to one side made up and sent off to London as soon as possible. I reckon that they’ll sell well.’
This was praise indeed from old Mrs Forrester, and furthermore, the man’s hat design was amongst the ones she had singled out; it was one of Amy’s own particular favourites too.
‘And you, young lady.’ She turned to Amy now, her voice stern but her eyes kindly. ‘The very first time I met you I ’ad a feeling – call it intuition if you like – that you would do well. I’m a great one, always ’ave been, for trusting to instincts, and all my instincts tell me that you’ll go far. Though I don’t want this bit of praise going to your head, mind.’
Amy couldn’t help but giggle and it must have been infectious, for soon they were all laughing.
‘I agree, Grandmama,’ Adam told her with a wide smile as he looked at Amy. ‘And I’m especially excited about the new design for the men’s hats.’
‘Then, Mother, if that is your advice, I shall take it, you have never been wrong before,’ Samuel grinned, and it was in a merry mood that Amy eventually set off to tell her gran the good news.
The following weeks passed in a blur. Amy worked from early in the morning until late at night overseeing the making of her designs as they slowly took shape She fretted over every minute detail until she was quite satisfied that they were perfect, each and every one. But then at last they were ready and after being individually packed into large cardboard hat boxes, they were then placed into great wooden crates and loaded on to the horse and cart that would take them on the first leg of their journey to the train station.
Mr Forrester himself personally travelled with them on the train to London, and Amy could barely contain her excitement. It was hard to believe that in just five hours’ time her hats would be in London. Before the coming of the train it would have taken at least a full day’s journey by horse and cart. But tomorrow her very own designs would be displayed in Mr Forrester’s smart London shop. It was like a dream come true, and now all she could do was wait to see how the public responded to them.