evening in with her gran and Toby. As she made her way through the cobbled alleys of the town centre, the stench was almost overpowering; it had been a warm day and the smell was always much worse then. The conditions that the weavers lived in were appalling. Their cottages consisted of only two rooms, one up and one down. The upstairs room housed their looms as well as serving as a sleeping space. The downstairs room was the kitchen-cum-scullery, as well as a sleeping space for those who couldn’t fit in upstairs.
It was common for a whole family consisting of a mother, father and five, six or even more children to dwell in these humble abodes. Tiny communal courtyards contained an outside lavatory that sported two seats. The seat, in fact, was merely a plank with two holes cut into it and a bed of ash below. Once a week the dung cart would come and shovel out the waste and then fresh ash would be thrown in. In the middle of the courtyard was usually a pigsty. The pig that it housed was always owned by more than one family who would jointly feed it to fatten it up then once it was slaughtered the meat would be shared out; a piglet would replace it and the whole process would begin again. Next to the sty was a well, which would serve the families with water for washing, cooking and drinking. Needless to say, the water was usually tainted and illness and death were tragically common occurrences.
Amy always shuddered when she passed these dwellings, particularly on days such as this when the stench was almost unbearable.
Compared to the cottagers who dwelt here, she and Molly were fortunate indeed. With their own cottage being on the outskirts of Attleborough they had fresh air and rolling fields about them, and although in her life they had known hardships, she was aware that theirs were as nothing compared to those endured by these people on a daily basis.
It was rare for the townfolk to rear all of their offspring, and it was common practice for them to pay tuppence to an undertaker to place one of their little ones in with the body of the next person he buried whose family could afford a coffin. At least this way, although their child’s grave would be unmarked and often unknown, the bereaved parents could rest easy knowing that their little ones were at least lying in consecrated ground.
Amy found this heartbreaking, but because it was a known fact she accepted it. Even now as she hurried by, little raggy-arsed urchins were playing in the streets, bare-footed yet surprisingly smiling, and she returned their smiles as she passed, pressing more than the odd penny into outstretched grubby little hands.
In the heart of the town were numerous public houses and inns. These were a favourite stopping place for the hatters and the miners on their way home following a hard day’s labour. There were also various shops, including an ironmonger, baker’s, butcher’s and grocery shops. Amy had a particular fondness for Mr Armstrong the grocer. When she was small he had always slipped her a bull’s-eye when she visited with her gran; he was also well-known for letting the locals run up a slate and settle it on payday.
Soon the church came into view and the smell began to recede as the town gave way to countryside. Amy slowed her pace and then in the distance she saw three people approaching. One of them was Toby, the other man was Mr Hickman, an Attleborough villager who worked with Toby down the mines. They were both in their work clothes and covered with soot. But it wasn’t them that Amy’s eyes fastened on but the pretty girl at Toby’s side. Cathy was Mr Hickman’s daughter. Amy recognised her from the Sunday school that they had both attended. She had fair hair tied back from her face with a blue ribbon and she was laughing up into Toby’s face at something he had said.
The little group made a merry picture as they approached and for no reason that she could explain, Amy suddenly ducked behind a hedge and hid until they had passed. She watched them from her hiding-place as they made their way along the lane. Cathy appeared to be in fine spirits and suddenly she slipped her arm into Toby’s, regardless of his sooty clothes, and almost on tiptoe whispered something into his ear.