The Ribbon Weaver - By Rosie Goodwin Page 0,60

wiv the rollin’-pin, which was no mean feat if yer try an’ imagine that we all lived in a cottage not much bigger than this room. Eight of us altogether there were. Me mum and dad, me, three sisters and two brothers. There used to be ten of us but me youngest brother and sister died from the sickness two years ago. Not that it was surprisin’, if you saw where we lived,’ she said sombrely. ‘There’s a ditch dug between the cottages where the sewage runs away, an’ some of the rats are that tame the cheeky bleeders don’t so much as blink even when yer try to shoo ’em off. When I came here it was the first time I’d ever got to sleep in a clean bed all to meself in me whole life.’

Nancy grinned apologetically. ‘Hark at me ramblin’ on, eh? I’d better get off an’ let yer get some rest. Yer must be weary after the long day you’ve had, an’ you’re out wiv the master tomorrow, ain’t yer?’

Amy nodded as Nancy slid from the bed before padding barefoot to the door.

‘Night, night, sleep tight,’ she whispered, and Amy smiled sleepily as the girl slipped out on to the landing and closed the door softly behind her.

Just as Nancy had said, it had been a very long day, so Amy quickly slipped between the cold cotton sheets of the bed. And there she lay in the darkness listening to the noises in the street outside. Everything felt so strange and she was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink, so it was a shock when her eyes flew open to find Nancy standing at the side of the bed with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. She was once again dressed in her maid’s outfit and she grinned as Amy’s tousled head appeared from beneath the warm blankets.

‘Come on, Sleepy’ead, rise and shine. It’s already ’alf past seven in the mornin’ an’ yer supposed to be meetin’ the master in the foyer at nine. If yer don’t get a shufty on you’ll not ’ave any time fer yer breakfast.’

Amy blinked as she knuckled the sleep from her eyes, for a moment forgetting where she was. Then she pulled herself up on to the pillow and gratefully took the cup that Nancy held out to her.

‘I must have slept like a log,’ she yawned as Nancy headed back towards the door.

‘Yer can say that again,’ Nancy agreed. ‘I reckon yer’d ’ave slept the clock round if I hadn’t woken yer. Still, there’s no harm done. Yer must ’ave needed it, so drink yer tea then come down to the kitchen. Cook’s got some breakfast all ready for yer.’

Once Nancy had left, Amy quickly drained her cup before scrambling out of bed and selecting a plain black skirt and a white high-necked cotton blouse from her meagre wardrobe. She then poured some water into the bowl and hastily washed and dressed. Finally she brushed her hair till it shone and tied it back with a fancy red ribbon that her gran had made with her own hands. Now she was ready to face the world but first she crossed to the window and drew aside the curtains. Although it was midsummer a thick smog hung in the air and Amy was amazed to find that she couldn’t even see the houses on the other side of the street.

She commented on it to Cook while she was tucking into freshly fried bacon and eggs, and the big woman laughed, setting her double chins wobbling.

‘Oh, you’ll soon get used to London,’ she assured her as she poured more tea into her cup. ‘Come mid-morning it will be as clear as a bell. It’s the winter smog you have to worry about. I’ll tell yer now, I’ve known it to be that thick yer can’t even see yer hand in front of yer, an’ that’s the ’onest truth.’

Amy shuddered at the thought but by nine o’clock she was standing in the hallway waiting for Mr Forrester, all ready to go. When he appeared minutes later from the dining room he smiled at her as he adjusted his hat in the hall mirror.

‘Did you have a good night’s sleep, my dear?’ he enquired pleasantly.

‘Yes sir, I did,’ Amy told him. ‘In fact, I think I’d still be in bed if Nancy hadn’t woken me.’

‘Good, good. Well then, it’s time we got down to business now. I’m

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