to get up in the mornings and even with Amy’s help she always felt tired.
She could sense restlessness in Amy now. All of the other girls from the cottages and hereabouts had been working for some time, and occasionally Amy complained with a smile that she was being ‘Molly’-coddled. In truth, she was right, but no job she had suggested as yet seemed good enough for her to Molly.
She had such high hopes for the girl. Amy could read and write, besides which she was also a very talented artist. All this, plus the fact that there was something about her that seemed to place her in a class far above the people hereabouts: some quality that seemed to shine from within. Placing her chilly feet on the stone bottle, Molly sighed. What opening was there around here for her granddaughter, as she always thought of her? The majority of girls of Amy’s age had gone into service in the big houses, or into the factories that dotted the town. But Molly wanted better than that for Amy, and although she had wracked her brains, as yet she had come up with no solution.
Just once, last New Year’s Eve, Molly had allowed her to go to the Forresters’ house to help prepare for a big party that they were holding. Mary had begged Molly to allow it, knowing that Amy would enjoy it. She had now moved on from the laundry and joined Lily in the house, and Mr Forrester himself had asked her if she could recommend anyone suitable as a temporary kitchen help. The first person she had thought of was Amy, and the girl’s eyes had shone with excitement when Lily asked her at the thought of being able to earn some money for her gran.
Molly had had grave reservations but Amy had pleaded so much that she eventually gave in and allowed her to go.
In actual fact, Amy had seen very little of Forrester’s Folly apart from the kitchen, but even that had greatly impressed her. For months afterwards, Amy had talked of little else, and ever since then she had constantly pleaded with Molly to be allowed to go out to work and earn her keep, especially since Beatrice was working now; she had taken Mary’s place at The Folly as a laundrymaid. Mary now held the enviable position of being the mistress’s personal maid and was loving her new role, which was a huge step up from working in the laundry.
Molly knew that she couldn’t hold out against the girl for much longer. But that at the moment wasn’t her biggest worry. She fretted about what would become of Amy, should anything happen to her – as eventually it surely would. She had always hoped that she would live to see Amy grown up and settled, but recently she had felt so low that she wondered if it would come about. Shivering again, she pulled the blankets more tightly about her.
‘Oh well,’ she muttered, ‘what will be, will be,’ and soon after she slipped into an exhausted sleep.
Back downstairs, Toby examined Amy’s latest sketches. They were all drawings of hats and dresses and all extremely good.
‘You know, you have all the makings of a first-class designer,’ he remarked.
Amy blushed at the compliment. ‘And you have all the makings of a first-class teacher,’ she teased, but then becoming serious she went on, ‘I’d really like to work at the hat factory. I didn’t mind missing the opportunity of becoming a laundrymaid at The Folly because I’d worry about leaving Gran on her own if I had to live in … But if I worked at the hat factory I could still come home each evening and look after her. But Gran won’t hear of me trying to get a job yet.’
She looked so downhearted that Toby patted her hand sympathetically, thinking how pretty she looked with the firelight shining on her hair.
‘It’s only ’cos she loves you and she worries about you,’ he pointed out gently.
Amy nodded in complete agreement. ‘I know that, Toby, but I’m the only one of my age around here who isn’t working yet, and I’d like to tip some wages up to Gran. She’s kept me long enough and
She could sense restlessness in Amy now. All of the other girls from the cottages and hereabouts had been working for some time, and occasionally Amy complained with a smile that she was being ‘Molly’-coddled. In truth, she was right, but no job she had suggested as yet seemed good enough for her to Molly.
She had such high hopes for the girl. Amy could read and write, besides which she was also a very talented artist. All this, plus the fact that there was something about her that seemed to place her in a class far above the people hereabouts: some quality that seemed to shine from within. Placing her chilly feet on the stone bottle, Molly sighed. What opening was there around here for her granddaughter, as she always thought of her? The majority of girls of Amy’s age had gone into service in the big houses, or into the factories that dotted the town. But Molly wanted better than that for Amy, and although she had wracked her brains, as yet she had come up with no solution.
Just once, last New Year’s Eve, Molly had allowed her to go to the Forresters’ house to help prepare for a big party that they were holding. Mary had begged Molly to allow it, knowing that Amy would enjoy it. She had now moved on from the laundry and joined Lily in the house, and Mr Forrester himself had asked her if she could recommend anyone suitable as a temporary kitchen help. The first person she had thought of was Amy, and the girl’s eyes had shone with excitement when Lily asked her at the thought of being able to earn some money for her gran.
Molly had had grave reservations but Amy had pleaded so much that she eventually gave in and allowed her to go.
In actual fact, Amy had seen very little of Forrester’s Folly apart from the kitchen, but even that had greatly impressed her. For months afterwards, Amy had talked of little else, and ever since then she had constantly pleaded with Molly to be allowed to go out to work and earn her keep, especially since Beatrice was working now; she had taken Mary’s place at The Folly as a laundrymaid. Mary now held the enviable position of being the mistress’s personal maid and was loving her new role, which was a huge step up from working in the laundry.
Molly knew that she couldn’t hold out against the girl for much longer. But that at the moment wasn’t her biggest worry. She fretted about what would become of Amy, should anything happen to her – as eventually it surely would. She had always hoped that she would live to see Amy grown up and settled, but recently she had felt so low that she wondered if it would come about. Shivering again, she pulled the blankets more tightly about her.
‘Oh well,’ she muttered, ‘what will be, will be,’ and soon after she slipped into an exhausted sleep.
Back downstairs, Toby examined Amy’s latest sketches. They were all drawings of hats and dresses and all extremely good.
‘You know, you have all the makings of a first-class designer,’ he remarked.
Amy blushed at the compliment. ‘And you have all the makings of a first-class teacher,’ she teased, but then becoming serious she went on, ‘I’d really like to work at the hat factory. I didn’t mind missing the opportunity of becoming a laundrymaid at The Folly because I’d worry about leaving Gran on her own if I had to live in … But if I worked at the hat factory I could still come home each evening and look after her. But Gran won’t hear of me trying to get a job yet.’
She looked so downhearted that Toby patted her hand sympathetically, thinking how pretty she looked with the firelight shining on her hair.
‘It’s only ’cos she loves you and she worries about you,’ he pointed out gently.
Amy nodded in complete agreement. ‘I know that, Toby, but I’m the only one of my age around here who isn’t working yet, and I’d like to tip some wages up to Gran. She’s kept me long enough and
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