‘I know,’ Nancy suggested, trying to be helpful, ‘wharrabout a book? Yer said he loves reading’ an’ I know where there’s a good bookshop.’
Amy nodded. It was a brilliant idea, so arm-in-arm they strolled through the busy marketplace and as they went a thousand smells assailed her. There was a stall with fish of all shapes and sizes laid out on large stone slabs amidst heaps of ice. Another stall displayed colourful arrays of fruit and fresh and some not so fresh vegetables. A butcher’s stall had salted joints of meat with flies buzzing around them, and here and there were crates containing live birds – chickens, cockerels and geese all cackling indignantly at their treatment. Underfoot, the cobbles were strewn with straw, and flowersellers held their bright posies out to the girls as they passed by. Another stall boasted bottles and jars of potions, claimed to cure all ills. Amy screwed up her nose as they passed. Here and there were barrows selling hot chestnuts and others selling mushy peas. Amy scarcely knew where to look first and stayed close to Nancy’s side as they wended their way through the thronging crowds. Eventually, Nancy struck off down a narrow cobbled alley that stank of urine and something Amy couldn’t distinguish until they came to a grimy shop window.
‘This is it,’ Nancy declared. ‘It might not look much from the outside, but if yer able to read, which I ain’t, more’s the pity, then I’m told it’s a treasure trove.’
Amy wasn’t so sure. The windows were so dirty that she could barely see inside and paint was peeling from the doors and sills. Still, she followed Nancy trustingly inside and the smells of ink and leather immediately greeted her. She saw at once that the inside was not much cleaner than the outside. On one side of the shop new books were displayed in neat regimental rows, at complete variance to the other side of the shop which was piled with second-hand ones. It was to these that she headed. Everywhere she looked were dusty bookshelves sagging beneath the weight of the numerous volumes piled upon them. Books were strewn everywhere in untidy piles all over the floor, but soon she forgot the smell as she began to lift them one by one and browse through them.
At last she found just what she was looking for. It was an atlas, with maps of various parts of the world on every page she knew instantly that Toby would love it.
It was two shillings, which Amy considered to be quite expensive, but also in very good condition, and so she paid for it without a qualm, happy with her choice and trying to imagine Toby’s face when she gave it to him.
Nancy was horrified and berated her as they left the shop. ‘Yer must be soft in the bloody ’ead!’ she scolded. ‘Fancy payin’ two whole bob just fer a bleedin’ book.’
Amy just laughed at her, highly amused at her reaction. Once they had retraced their steps and were back in the market, Nancy asked, ‘Have yer ever tried jellied eels?’
Amy shook her head.
‘Well, we’ll ’ave to put that right. Yer can’t come to London wivout tryin’ jellied eels. Lovely they are, caught fresh from the Thames each day.’ So saying, she took Amy’s hand and almost dragged her along until they came to the stall she had been seeking.
As Amy stared down at the glutinous mass Nancy placed in her hand a few minutes later, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Ugh, you don’t really expect me to eat
this
, do you?’ She shuddered.
Nancy laughed. ‘Just shut yer eyes an’ try it,’ she urged. ‘You’ll love it,’ she promised with her own mouth full.
Gingerly, Amy lifted a small piece of the slimy slippery fish and raised it to her mouth. ‘Ugh!’ She spat it out in horror, oblivious to manners, and Nancy almost choked with laughter. Amy looked suspiciously as if she was going to be sick and had turned a very unbecoming shade of grey.
‘What’s up, mate? Don’t yer like ’em?’ the other girl quipped.
Wiping her mouth on her handkerchief, Amy managed to mutter, ‘I’ve never tasted anything quite so revolting in the whole of my life.’
‘Well, give ’em ’ere then,’ Nancy told her. ‘Yer know what they say, waste not want not.’ Snatching the offending delicacy from Amy’s hand she began to cram the contents into her mouth, causing Amy to turn even greyer if that was possible. Her poor stomach rebelled all the way home, much to Nancy’s amusement.
‘Yer don’t know what’s good fer yer, that’s the trouble wiv you,’ she giggled, but just this once, Amy had to disagree with her. One thing she was sure of, a jellied eel would never pass her lips again for as long as she lived.
The rest of Amy’s stay in London passed all too quickly, and just five days before she was due to leave, Mr Forrester, returning late one evening, asked her to join him in his study.
‘I wanted to talk to you about the bridal bonnet sketches,’ he told her almost immediately. Amy listened with her hands folded demurely in her lap and her heart thudding with anticipation.
‘I’ve given this idea a great deal of thought and I’ve also made extensive enquiries about the costing, et cetera, of producing these designs. I have to say I think it’s an extremely good idea – but I also wondered if perhaps we couldn’t take it a stage further?’ He was pacing up and down the room with his hands joined behind his back, and after a moment he went on, ‘Mr Harvey and I both feel that a shop offering such bonnets could become very popular. Even more so if we could offer bridal gowns to wear with them, which got me to thinking … didn’t you design young Mary Turpin’s wedding gown?’
Flustered, Amy nodded as he stopped his pacing to stare at her.
‘Then do you think you might be capable of turning out designs to complement the hats?’
With her mind racing, Amy gulped deep in her throat before looking him straight in the eye. ‘Yes, sir. I think I could.’
‘I thought you would say that,’ he smiled. ‘So tomorrow, please take advantage of this room and see if you can come up with a few ideas, then in the evening we will look at them together.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Amy rose and after bobbing her knee she retreated from the room. She could barely take in what Mr Forrester had just suggested but her chin set. She
could
do it, she
knew
she could: all she had to do now was prove it – and that was exactly what she set out to do.
Following the evening meal the next night, Amy and Mr Forrester once again retired to his study and she spread out several designs on the desk before him. She had worked until the early hours of the morning on them and was so tired that she was sure she could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but she was also very excited and nervous about what he might think of them. He studied them intensely for some time, picking up first one then another until finally he raised his head and smiled at her.
‘It seems to me that I’d better be on the look-out for some seamstresses,’ he said, and Amy’s heart leaped.
Grasping her small hand in his large one, her employer shook it gently up and down. ‘I think that Forrester’s Bridal Wear has just been born, my dear, and I also think that in the future I’m going to be keeping you very busy indeed.’
Amy could only gaze at him with a large lump in her throat as all her plans and dreams began to become a reality.
As Nancy closed the lid of Amy’s case and snapped down the clasp, she sniffed noisily. ‘I’m really going to miss yer.’ The words were said from the heart and Amy hurried over and placed her arm about her friend’s shoulders.
‘I shall be coming back,’ Amy promised. ‘Mr Forrester says that I’ll need to be staying here regularly once the new Bridal Shop is open. I’ll be back before you’ve even had time to realise I’ve gone, you’ll see.’
She was wearing the flattering day gown that Mrs Forrester had bought her on their shopping trip, and a jaunty little hat was perched on top of her head. Her hair had been swept up and she looked every inch the sophisticated young woman. It was hard to believe that she was the same girl who had arrived with her hair loose about her shoulders in her country clothes just four weeks ago. There was now a quiet air of confidence about her, yet her gentle nature remained unchanged, and although their friendship was still only blossoming, Nancy knew somehow that it never would. They hugged each other before beginning to cart Amy’s now considerable luggage down the stairs. In no time at all they were off and Nancy waved from the steps of the house until the carriage turned a corner and Amy was lost to sight.
Once they were on the train the journey home passed quickly. Old Mrs Forrester dozed for most of the way, whilst Josephine sat quietly enjoying the views from the carriage window. Amy and Samuel, meanwhile, spent most of the journey discussing different styles and materials. Samuel had already made discreet enquiries about a vacant shop in an exclusive area in Knightsbridge that he felt would suit their needs very well, and he had left the negotiations on it in Mr Harvey’s capable hands, content that the man would secure a favourable deal. He had also employed, on the recommendation of a colleague, two very experienced seamstresses who, even now as the train chugged towards Nuneaton, were working on the first two sample bridal gowns of Amy’s designs. All in all it had proved to be a very worthwhile visit. He was also pleased to note that his wife looked more relaxed than he had seen her for years, and if his new venture succeeded as he felt sure it would, then who could know where it might lead?
When they arrived back at Trent Valley railway station, the Forresters’ carriage was waiting for them. Samuel insisted on dropping Amy off right outside her gran’s cottage door. He was amused to note that the curtains of the neighbouring cottages were twitching as if they had been caught in a strong breeze when the carriage drew to a halt, but was too much of a gentleman to comment on it as he helped Amy alight before lifting her luggage down for her.
Molly had been like a cat on hot bricks all day, endlessly checking the lane for a sign of her beloved girl, and now she hastily drew back into the shadows of the kitchen, reluctant to run out and greet Amy until the fancy carriage had gone. It was early evening by now and she watched Mr Forrester speaking to Amy before picking up her valise and carrying it personally to the door for her. Amy looked wonderful, yet somehow different, more grown-up and elegant. Just for a moment, Molly was apprehensive but then as the carriage rolled away, the door suddenly burst open and Amy spilled into the room and straight into her waiting arms.
‘Oh, Gran, I’ve missed you
so
much!’ Amy was laughing and crying all at the same time and as her smooth cheek pressed against Molly’s old wrinkled one, their tears mingled and fell together. She gazed at her gran as if she could never see enough of her, noting with alarm that Molly seemed to have lost weight.
‘Have you been eating properly?’ she questioned sternly.
Flapping her hands at her, Molly smiled through her tears. ‘O’ course I have. But I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about everythin’ you’ve done an’ seen. And that means
everythin’
, mind!’
Hands joined, they crossed to the fire and Molly pointed at the neat stack of letters that Amy had written to her and that were piled on one side of the mantelshelf.
‘Poor Toby, I’ve made him read every last one of ’em to me time after time. The poor lad must know ’em all off by heart by now.’ She chuckled as she pressed Amy down into the chair at the side of the hearth. ‘Now I’ve got some nice hot soup all ready fer you, an’ when you’ve had it yer can start to tell me about all you’ve been up to. Toby’s due home any minute an’ happen he’ll want to hear all your news an’ all. He’s been like a bear with a sore head while you’ve been gone, so he has.’
Amy smiled indulgently and while Molly pottered about getting the soup she carefully removed her hatpin and placed her hat on the table, gazing affectionately about the little room. Every single thing was just as she had left it, spick and span as a new pin. When she had felt homesick in London, all she had needed to do was close her eyes and she could see in her mind every single detail. The range black-leaded and polished until it shone; the kettle swinging on its hook above a cheery fire, and the copper pans gleaming where they hung above the hearth. She knew now that neither of Mr Forrester’s grand residences could ever mean to her what this little cottage did. This was her home, and as Molly was fond of saying, ‘Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home.’ Now she understood exactly what her gran meant and she was truly happy to be back.
She had so much to tell that she barely knew where to begin, but once Toby had joined them she prattled on merrily, holding them both enthralled as they listened to her adventure. Halfway through the evening she suddenly remembered the presents in her valise and she skipped away to fetch them, as excited as a child.
She gave Molly her shawl first and the old woman was thrilled with it.
‘Lord above! This must have cost an arm an’ a leg. Yer shouldn’t have gone spendin’ yer money on me, lass,’ she scolded, but her pleasure was plain to see.
Next, Amy presented Toby with the smoothly bound leather atlas. It was by far the most expensive book he had ever owned, and although he was delighted with Amy’s gift he also felt that it somehow emphasised the distance that was appearing like a chasm between them. As he looked across at her it struck him like a blow that she looked every inch the capable young businesswoman. Her eyes were shining and her hair was gleaming like burnished copper in the glow from the fire, but the girl he had known and adored for so long was gone. Everything about her seemed different now. Her back was upright, her chin firm, and there was a quiet dignity about her that he had never noticed before. He felt in that instant that he had lost her forever, and it was almost more than he could bear. The urge came on him to cry as he had never cried since he was a child, but instead he rose brusquely and dragged his eyes away from hers in case she should see the pain there.
‘Thanks, Amy, I shall treasure this always.’ He nodded to Molly, then to their amazement he turned and strode to the door without so much as another word.