Hannah and the Ruby Glass (with covers)

Hannah and the
Ruby Glass

A tale of a
Victorian
childhood in
a Cheshire
village.

Alan Williams







Hannah

and the

Ruby Glass

ALAN WILLIAMS

With illustrations by

HELEN WESTON

Leckonby press

© Alan Williams, 2015

Published by The Leckonby Press First Edition 2015
Leckonby Cottage

11A Whitbarrow Rd, Lymm WA13 9AG
[email protected]

ISBN 978-0-9927649-1-3

The right of Alan Williams to be identified as the Author of this work has
been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act

1988 Sections 77 and 78.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying recording or otherwise, without prior permission

of the copyright owner.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

While every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy and quality of
information in this publication, the Publisher accepts no responsibility for
the subsequent use of this information for any errors or omissions that it

may contain, or for any misunderstanding arising from it.

This story is loosely based on a real place—Lymm—but all the names and
characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real

persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Also published by the Leckonby Press
The Wheels and the Water (2013) ISBN 978-0-9927649-0-6
The story of Lymm’s journey through the Transport Revolution

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Honor Giles and Nick Johnson for their patient and
meticulous editing and to Helen Weston for working with me to bring
Hannah, her family and the village to life with her lovely illustrations.
Finally, thanks to my good friend Alan Taylor whose enthusiasm for local
history gave me the idea for the book in the first place.

LYMM HERITAGE CENTRE
£2 a copy from the first edition of 250 of this book will be donated to a

fund toward the setting up of Lymm Heritage Centre
www.lymmhic.co.uk

www.facebook.com/lymmheritage

For all the children at Statham Community Primary
School who have read to me over the past four years,
including my own grandchildren, Grace and Hayden.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE An Important Job for Hannah 9
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE Hannah Has a Fright 19
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE Hannah Makes a Find 23
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN Hannah Gets a Shock 31
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE Hannah Makes a Decision 37
AFTERWORD
Hannah Tries to Explain 44

Hannah Gets a Reward 50

Father Lays Down the Law 56

Christmas Morning 65

A Little Bit of History 69



CHAPTER ONE

An Important Job for Hannah

The front door slammed hard. It woke
Hannah with a start. For a moment she
lay there, confused, wondering where she was.
There were no candles as her mother had
taken the last ones to work a few days earlier.
So it was dark in the room... and cold, very
cold… even colder than usual. Hannah sat up
in bed with her shawl wrapped round her. She
scraped the ice from the window with her
nails and peered out into the gloom.

9

Everything somehow looked different and
unfamiliar even in the early morning darkness
and as Hannah’s eyes gradually became ac-
customed to the light she realised. It was
snowing! There was already a thin blanket of
white covering the fields behind their cottage
overlooking the meadows. Off in the distance
she could just make out the ghostly silhouette
of the morning train across the fields steaming
its way to Manchester.

Hannah’s first thought was excitement at the
prospect of the snow. There would be
snowballing and if the ice were thick enough
they might even play on the lake behind the
dam. Last year they had dared to step out
onto the Duke of Bridgewater’s canal that ran
through the village. That was until the men
came and hauled the ice-breaker boat out of
the tunnel. She had watched as they had all
clambered aboard and rocked it to and fro
while two horses slowly dragged it forward,
cutting a channel through the ice. It made
Hannah sad to watch how hard the horses
were made to work and to see her icy play-
ground being broken up. But her father was
quick to explain how if the canal were closed
then neither the coal nor the fustian cloth

10

would get through from Manchester. No cloth
meant no work for her mother or her older
brother, John. No work meant no money and
no money meant no food.

Still there would be the snowballing. Then
Hannah remembered and looked down at her
boots next to the bed. They had been her
brother’s before her and they were worn out.
She had shown her mother the holes in the
bottoms and had been told firmly that she
must simply avoid puddles until they could
afford to have them mended. But how was she
to manage in the snow?

Hannah grabbed her clothes: wool smock,
white apron, black stockings, complete with
holes, torn petticoat and, of course, the boots.
She ran down the wooden steps to the main
room which was a little warmer. There were
still glowing embers on the open fire and the
water was hot in the kettle. She made herself
a mug of tea and wrapped her hands around
it to warm herself up. Her eyes cast around
the room for something to eat. The room was
sparsely furnished; just a table and four
chairs. One of them, her father’s was a little
more comfortable than the others. There was

11

a rag rug on the stone floor. On the bare table
her mother had left some of yesterday’s bread
and dripping wrapped in a cloth and, as a
special treat, an apple from the box under the
stairs. Her father brought home windfalls
every year from the farm where he worked.

Next to the food was a note written by her
brother.

Go to Browns and by six candls. Bring them to
wurk for me and ma. Ther is thruppence in the
purs. Dont loos it. We will wach out the window
for you at nine a clok.

Hannah reached for the tiny cotton purse next
to the note and tipped the three pennies onto
the table. She stroked their smooth surface
with her fingers. She felt proud to be trusted
with this important job. It was not before time,
she thought. After all she was now nearly ten.
She was also just a little cross that the note
said “Don’t lose it” and felt
sure that would have been
her brother John’s doing.
Ma wouldn’t have known of
course as she had never
learnt to read or write so
had to rely on her children.

12

Before Hannah went out she hunted around
the room for some rags to wrap around her
stockinged feet as she put on her boots in the
hope of keeping out the biting cold and wet
snow. She popped the apple in the pocket of
her apron along with the little bag of money.
Then she draped the shawl around her head
and shoulders and slipped out into the icy
cold morning. She closed the door firmly.
There was no key to lock it. Father often
joked. “Any burglar is welcome to this place.
There’s nothing to steal.”

This early morning walk to school was always
a special time. Hannah enjoyed the freedom of
being able to make her own way there. But
today was different. As well as the snow she
had her very important errand. It was only
just getting light as she crossed the bridge
over the canal to the centre of the village.
Usually she would linger a minute or two in
the hope of seeing one of the horse-drawn
boats coming through, perhaps even the
morning packet boat on its way into Man-
chester. But today all was still. The snow
brought with it an eerie silence and she
hurried on to Brown’s shop to buy the
candles. By the time she arrived she could

13

already feel the damp cold seeping through
the rags and stockings.
The little bell rang over the shop door to
announce her arrival as Hannah pushed it
open. She loved all the exciting smells that
made the shop feel so exotic: the smoky
aroma of the bacon joints hanging in the
corner, the spices and the coffee, all mixed in
with the paraffin from the little stove near the
back door. Mr Brown was already very busy
behind his counter rushing to and fro looking
flustered. Hannah soon saw why.
Perched on a tall bentwood chair was a very
smartly dressed lady with a warm fur stole
round her shoulders. Hannah recognised her

14

immediately and tried to curtsey to the lady
from the Hall, as she had been taught to do by
her teacher, though the important customer
barely seemed to notice Hannah’s arrival. She
was more intent on keeping the shop owner
on his toes.

“Now, Mr Brown, you know I would normally
send my housekeeper to you. But we have
some very important guests for our Christmas
Eve gathering at the Hall to-morrow and I
need to ensure that I have only your finest
produce.” She was reading from a long list.

“I want your best figs and let me have a taste
of your Turkish Delight before I order two
boxes. And do show me those new Christmas
crackers I saw in the window. They will make
a delightful treat for the children.” The order
seemed to go on forever with so many items
that Hannah had never even heard of before.
Could Brazil nuts really have come all the way
from Brazil?

After what seemed an age the lady finally put
away her little notebook which she placed in
her bag along with her purse. “Now be sure to
deliver all this by tomorrow morning. I will
need it in plenty of time for our party at six.”

15

As she turned to leave she almost knocked
Hannah over. Just for a moment she glanced
down at the little girl. Did Hannah detect a
hint of a smile? But then she was gone.

Hannah stepped up to the counter. She
proudly announced her own order. Mr Brown
seemed quite pleased to have a rather less
demanding customer. He
handed over the candles,
carefully wrapped in brown
paper and tied up with
string. He slid a broken
biscuit across the counter
with a wink. “Save it for
Christmas Day.” he smiled.

Christmas was not going to be very exciting in
Hannah’s home. The best part about it would
simply be that no-one had to go to work.
Father had been smuggling home a couple of
extra vegetables in his pocket every day for
the past two weeks and had promised mother
a big fat rabbit to cook for Christmas dinner.
Last year Hannah had had an orange, an
apple and some hazelnuts in one of her stock-
ings and, as a special treat, a wooden top that
the farmer’s children had grown too old for.

16

Hannah asked Mr Brown what his clock said.
“It says that you’re old enough to tell the time
young lady” he laughed, then added “It’s close
on five to nine.” Hannah gasped. She was
already running late. John would be looking
out for her up at the workshop.

She rushed from the shop, past the old cross
in the centre of the village, thick with snow,
past the Post Office where Sam the post boy
was just emerging, laden with Christmas
cards for the big houses. He waved and called
hello, but Hannah didn’t even look up. She
struggled up Eagle Brow toward the fustian
cutting workshops where her mother and
brother worked. She dodged the splashes from
the passing horses and carts. She lingered a
moment to watch Mr Charles the boot repair
man working away in his window. It reminded
her of just how freezing cold her feet were. She
could hardly feel them now; she was almost
numb with the cold. She pressed on and
finally turned the corner toward the row of
cottages belonging to Mr Cooke. He ran the
fustian cutting workshops on the top storey.

Hannah had never been in the workshop and
didn’t really understand the work her mother

17

and brother did. All she knew was that they
often seemed to come home late and were
constantly complaining of backache.

Hannah’s father had wanted John to join him
on the farm, but he had always been a sickly
boy and after a few months the farmer said he
would have to let him go as he was not strong
enough to pull his weight. Not that the cutting
workshop was any better for him. The
windows were always closed to keep in the
warm, and the dust from the cloth seemed to
settle on his lungs so that he soon developed a
worrying cough. At first he made lots of
mistakes and got no pay at all, so came home
in tears. Mr Cooke was a bully and would
shout at him when he spoiled a length of
cloth. If it were not for her mother and the
other workers looking out for him he would
not have been able to bear it.

Hannah and John always used to play out
together when they were both at school, but
somehow that had changed forever. John was
twelve now and since he first went to work,
when he was ten, he seemed to have grown up
very quickly.

18

CHAPTER TWO

Hannah Has a Fright

When Hannah arrived at the workshops
she looked up at the little top storey
windows and just for a moment she saw
John’s face pressed against the glass. She
hesitated, uncertain what to do, when the
door at the top of the outside steps opened
just enough for her brother to creep out. He
shut it silently behind him. He ran down the
stairs and gave his little sister a hug. There
was a half-smile on his face yet somehow he
still looked uneasy. “Well done, Hanny.” he
said, taking the candles. “You’re a good girl.
Now be off, quick. You’re already late for
school.”

He turned and was starting to tiptoe back up
the stairs when the door flew open. Out
stepped Mr Cooke, his huge form blocking the
boy’s way back into the building. “And where
do you think you are going?” bellowed the
boss at John. Hannah could see that her

19

brother was shaking. “If you please sir, I just
went to collect some candles.” But the man
seemed far less interested in him than the
little girl he saw at the bottom of the steps.
“And who might you be, young lady?” he said
to Hannah in a tone that was suddenly, but
unconvincingly, friendly. Hannah looked first
at her brother who seemed frozen to the spot.
She tried to speak but had to swallow before
the words would come out. “I’m Hannah sir;
Hannah Thompson.” At the sound of this last
word her brother’s eyes squeezed shut and
stayed closed for what seemed an age.

“Thompson? Thompson? Why, young John,
you never told me that you had a little sister!”
He pushed the boy aside as he descended the
steps. “Come here girl.” Hannah looked again
to her brother for help. She was frightened
now, mainly because she could see the fear in
John’s eyes. She stepped forward, nervously
squeezing as hard as she could on the empty
money bag in her pocket as if that could
somehow drain away the fear. The owner
towered over her, hands on hips and looked
the little girl up and down. “Nine?” he
guessed.

20

“I’m nearly ten.” answered Hannah.
“Oh really!” came the reply as if he were
genuinely impressed by the response. By this
time the little girl’s mother had appeared at
the top of the steps. Hannah wanted to run to
her, but the terrifying man still stood over her
and she didn’t dare move.
“On your way now.” he suddenly shouted at
Hannah. “We will meet again. And you, young
man,” he said turning to John, “will not leave
your bench without permission or you’ll be
out on your ear.”

21

The last words Hannah heard floating through
the snow as she turned away were “Mrs
Thompson, we need to talk.” She wondered
what it could be about. Christmas perhaps?
Or was mother now in trouble too?

22

CHAPTER THREE

Hannah Makes a Find

By now she was late for school. What a
horrible day this was turning out to be.
She thrust her head down and walked as fast
as she dare over the thin blanket of snow. She
would probably be in trouble for her lateness,
but she knew well that there were other girls
of her age who hardly went to school at all.
Just as she turned the last corner she saw
something small and bright, covered in tiny
silver bobbles lying, almost covered, in the
snow. She stooped to pick it up, looking
around her as she did just in case anyone
challenged her. She had just slipped the mys-
terious item into her apron pocket when she
heard her teacher’s voice at the door of the
school. “Hannah Thompson, come inside this
minute. You are soaked through to the skin.”
Obediently she dived beneath the arch of her
teacher’s arm into the classroom where a fire
was roaring in the grate.

23

Hannah loved her teacher, Miss Warburton,
almost as much as her mother, sometimes
more, though she knew that was wrong. The
teacher tried to be strict with the girls and
would tell them off if they spoke out of turn or
were sloppy with their work, but even Hannah
could tell that Miss Warburton felt sorry for
some of the children.
She made Hannah
take off her boots,
threw away the rags
and hung the stock-
ings in front of the
fire. “Now you sit
and warm your feet
for five minutes; not
too close mind.”

The young teacher
thrust a bible into her hand. “Luke Chapter 2
Verses 8 to 20; I will hear you read later.”
Hannah read the story of the shepherds
visiting the baby Jesus, holding the bible with
one hand while she sneaked the other into her
apron pocket to feel her exciting discovery.
Whatever it was she didn’t dare take it out in
case she was accused of stealing it. As her
fingers drifted over all the tiny bobbles she

24

struggled to imagine what it might be.

Today was the last day of school before
Christmas and after they had recited their
tables, copied words from the blackboard and
learnt about Christmas all over the British
Empire, the children were allowed, in the after
-noon, to make a Christmas card for their
family as a special treat to take home. Even
this, which should have been fun, could not
take Hannah’s mind off the events of the day:
the trip to Brown’s, the horrible man at her
mother’s work and her mystery find.

When everything was cleared away, and with
the children sat bolt upright at their desks in
neat rows, in silence, the teacher took out her
hymn book and the children watched as she
carefully wrote the words to “Hark the Herald
Angels” on the blackboard. Then they all sang
it together. After that, Hannah, who was one
of the best readers, was chosen to come out to
the front of the room and read the story of the
shepherds to the rest of class. As she walked
up she was aware of the weight of her secret
find in her apron, pressing against her knee.
She worried that Miss Warburton would see it.
But the reading passed without incident and

25

at last it was time to go home. The teacher
wished them all a very Happy Christmas and
looked forward to seeing them all again in two
weeks’ time. They all wrapped up as warm as
they could before venturing out into the snow
covered village.

Hannah always took her time on her way
home. There would be no-one else home for
hours and she didn’t like being in the cottage
on her own. Today though she was in more of
a hurry. She wanted to get her small gift of a
Christmas card back in one piece and dry for
her mother. And also, of course, she couldn’t
wait to look at her little treasure.

On her way though she just couldn’t resist
pausing for a moment to gaze into the window
of the sweet shop near the canal bridge. As
usual there were jars of all sorts of treats like
marzipan, liquorice, humbugs and toffee. For
two weeks now Mrs Hanson, who owned the
shop, had also put out little Christmas gifts in
what she called her ‘threepenny window’.
There were things like spinning tops and other
small toys, lace handkerchiefs and glassware.
Coming home from church with her family on
a Sunday, Hannah and John liked to play at

26

“Choose your Favourite” as they passed by all
the shop windows. John insisted he was too
old for anything in the threepenny window
and wanted a cap like his father’s, though
Hannah suspected he would really have liked
the catapult from Mrs Hanson’s window.

Hannah was never in any doubt about her
own favourite. She had her heart set on a little
ruby red drinking glass that seemed, to her,
impossibly beautiful for just threepence. She
strained to read the writing on the glass

27

through the shop window. All she could see
was what looked like the word ‘Forago’.
Hannah looked again today and frowned. She
had paid attention in geography lessons but
had never heard of such a place. Perhaps it
was in India where tea came from. She closed
her eyes for a moment and imagined drinking
her tea from it. It was strange but the more
she looked at it, the more she longed to own
this glass from the mysterious place.

“Penny for your thoughts”, said a voice
suddenly from over her shoulder. She spun
round to see the cheeky face of Sam the post
boy with a sack full of cards in the bag over
his shoulder. Hannah felt herself blushing
though she wasn’t quite sure why. “I was just
wondering what to buy my mother for
Christmas.” said Hannah, quickly gathering
her thoughts and trying to impress Sam. “I
might just buy her that ruby red glass.”

Sam laughed. “My word! Rich all of a sudden
are we? And since when have you ever had a
penny to your name? I’d heard your family
can’t even pay the rent.”

Hannah thought she liked Sam but sometimes
he just couldn’t help being mean.

28

“That’s all you know, Sam Davies. You just
leave me alone. I’ll buy it. Just you wait and
see.” As she pushed past him she felt the
tears welling up in her eyes and she ran the
whole way home without once looking back.

She almost threw herself in through the front
door, slammed it shut and leant, with her
back against it, panting and heaving after her
run through the snow. She was cold again. It
was always cold when she got home but she
couldn’t light the fire yet. It was her job but
not till after five o’clock. That way the cottage
would have begun to warm up when the
family got home from work at seven or eight.

She took off her apron to hang it up and as
she did so she felt the weight of her find in the
pocket. She reached around for the Christmas
card but it wasn’t there. It must have fallen
out of her pocket as she ran. Hannah felt the
tears returning. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was
fair. Some of the other girls had talked about
having presents for Christmas. She was sure
she would have nothing and now she had lost
the one little gift that she had made for her
mother.

Just a few days before, after she had gone to

29

bed, she had heard her parents talking about
how they were going to manage through the
winter. “We’ll just have to cut back.” she
heard her father say.
“Cut back on what exactly?” her mother had
answered. “We have nothing.”
“Then you’ll have to see if you can work longer
and you must train John better so he doesn’t
waste cloth.”
At that point Hannah had pulled the blanket
up round her ears. She didn’t want to hear
any more.

30

CHAPTER FOUR

Hannah Gets a Shock

At last, when she had finally got her
breath back, Hannah reached into her
apron pocket to see what she had found. She
pulled out … a silver purse. She was already
worried about getting into trouble for not
showing anyone what she had found. Now
that she realised it was something that might

contain money she was
positively scared. What if the
purse belonged to Miss
Warburton? But Hannah
realised it was probably too
fancy for her teacher who
liked simple things.

Even though she knew no-one would come in
she ran upstairs to open it. She had almost
decided that if there were threepence inside
she would buy the ruby red glass and would
somehow make up a story about how she had
got the money.

31

She curled up on her bed with her blanket
wrapped around her and tipped the purse
open. Five coins rolled out. But these were not
like the smooth copper pennies she had been
holding earlier in the day. These were bright
and heavy. Hannah stared at them in disbelief
for a few moments. These were sovereigns.
Each one of them was worth two hundred and
forty of the pennies she had held earlier. In
class they would chant together “Four
farthings make one penny, twelve pennies
make one shilling, twenty shillings make one
pound.” And a pound was a sovereign.

She felt excitement and terror in equal
measure. There was a brief moment when she
imagined handing over the money to her
parents to pay the rent, buy new clothes and
have the best Christmas ever. But that was
followed just a second later by the thought of
a far more likely outcome. They would be
angry and even tell her she was dishonest for
holding onto it. Would she have to go to the
police station? Could they take her away and
send her to prison?

Suddenly she wished she’d never seen the
purse. Maybe she could bury it and forget all

32

about it. She dropped the coins back into the
purse, her hands shaking and with a feeling of
panic in the pit of her stomach. As she did
this she noticed for the first time a small card
in an inside pocket. She pulled it out. It read
simply Mrs Hurst, The Hall, Lymm. In that
moment she remembered where she had seen
the purse before. Of course! It belonged to the
elegant lady in Brown’s who had been
ordering that huge list of provisions.

Hannah felt her breath quicken and her
stomach churn again as she realised what she
was holding. Mrs Hurst was the most
important lady in the village, ‘gentry’, as her
mother referred to her. A little demon sat on
one of Hannah’s shoulders whispering “She’s
rich… her family can afford to lose five
pounds.” But the voices of her parents and
her teacher in her head were reminding her
that ‘Honesty is the best policy’.

Hannah needed time to think, but time was in
short supply. She could tell by the darkness
that it was time for her to start her
housework. She hid the purse and ran
downstairs. She began by lighting the fire.
Once that was roaring in the grate she

33

collected some carrots and potatoes from the
basket and peeled them into a pan for the
family meal. Every slice of carrot seemed to
look like a sovereign and every shiny white
potato was a purse. Soon the family would be
home and Hannah was practising in her head
how she would explain her find to them in a
way that didn’t make her seem dishonest.

Just before eight o’clock there was a sudden
rush of freezing air into the cottage as the
front door flew open and the rest of the family
stumbled in out of the cold and stamped their
feet to shake the snow away.

There was plenty to talk about; more than
usual. John told his father about how horrible
Mr Cooke had been and how he had kept
pestering Ma all day about when Hannah was
going to leave school and start work. Father
explained how he had asked his employer, Mr
Knight, for a small loan to help pay the back-
rent. Instead he had received a lecture about
saving and been told “Neither a borrower nor a
lender be.”

“Fat chance we have of ever saving. It’s all we
can do to keep warm and fed.” said her father
as Mother dished up the food. All three of

34

them were so busy with their own affairs that
no-one seemed to notice how quiet and
withdrawn Hannah was this evening.

Over their meal the talk turned to Christmas.
“I’ve heard there’ll be a big party up at the
Hall tomorrow evening.” said Father. “The
Knight family will be there and at least fifty
more besides.” Mother explained that no-one
was to expect presents, but that they would
have a lovely day anyway as they would all be
together and there would be rabbit stew for
dinner and maybe oranges and apples for tea.

Even though Hannah had no school the next
day, which was Christmas Eve, her parents
still seemed keen to pack her off to bed. So
before she knew it she was sent upstairs in
the dark without ever finding the right
moment to explain about the purse.

It soon became clear to Hannah why she had
been bundled off so early, as snatches of
conversation drifted up the stairs. At first they
spoke almost in whispers and she heard just a
few words like ‘rent’ and ‘borrow’. But
gradually the conversation became louder as
they must have assumed Hannah was asleep.
Father did most of the talking. “It’s all very

35

fine us having this cottage for ourselves and
when I was labouring on building the railways
we could afford it. But things are different
now. It’s poor money working on the farm. The
way I see it, we only have two choices; either
Hannah starts skipping school and earning
her keep or I am going to have to find work
away where I can earn more. I’ve heard there
is good work down in London labouring on
the new railway they are building to run
under the ground. They say it’s hard graft, but
good money. Maybe I should give it a go.”
Soon after that Hannah heard tears. She
couldn't be sure if it was her mother or John
or both of them.
For the third time that day Hannah felt tears
welling up in her own eyes too. She clutched
the purse that she knew could solve their
money worries- at least for a week or two –
and she pushed her face into the pillow so
that no-one would hear her. She pulled the
blanket round her head. Not for the first time
she had heard more than enough. It was ages
before she finally got off to sleep.

36

CHAPTER FIVE

Hannah Makes a Decision

When Hannah awoke it was already
getting light. She lay motionless staring
at the ceiling. The fast fading memory of a
hundred dreams flashed through her head. A
policeman laying his hand on her shoulder,
laughing because she couldn’t tell the time,
the five gold sovereigns turning into broken
biscuits as she tried to give them to her
mother, looking again at the ruby glass in the
sweet shop and reading not forago this time
but simply thief and, as she tried to rub out
the word, the glass breaking into tiny pieces
in her hands making them bleed ruby red.

Hannah rolled her head from side to side as if
that could somehow shake out those horrible
images. She slid her hand under the pillow
and found the purse. That at least had not
been a dream. It was a reality she was going
to have deal with. If she had gone to sleep
confused she had woken certain of what she

37

must do. She had heard her teacher say once
that if you had a problem you should “Sleep
on it and you will wake with the answer.” This
time it had really worked.

She threw on her clothes. She slipped on her
boots without bothering with the rags. She
didn’t even stop for a warming cup of tea.
Within five minutes she was out of the door
and heading up the hill toward the village.
Hannah marched purposefully over the bridge
without a second glance at the canal, past the
sweet shop with the beautiful ruby glass, past
Mr Brown’s shop and finally to the cross. But
this time instead of turning toward school or
up Eagle Brow toward her mother’s work she
headed for the little gate in the wall where she
had seen servants coming and going. It led
toward the grand sweeping drive of the hall.
She tried the latch and it was open. One deep,
brave breath and she was through.

This was new territory to Hannah. She kept
her head down as she didn’t want to see
anyone on the way and hoped no-one would
see her. So intent was she on her mission that
she didn’t hear Brown’s horse-drawn delivery
cart coming up the drive until it was nearly on

38



top of her. At the last minute she jumped out
of the way and tumbled onto the grass verge.
She picked herself up and wiped herself down.
She was not a pretty sight by now: a tattered
old shawl, her tangled hair, her boots flapping
open and her clothes spattered in mud. But
her determination and pride were intact as
she pressed on toward the house. She hesi-
tated for a moment as she saw Brown’s lad
delivering at the side door and wondered if she
should go there too. No, her business was not
with the cook or the housekeeper but with the
lady of the house, she told herself.

She approached the huge front door. There
was no knocker and the rap of her tiny hand,
shaking with nerves, barely
made a sound. Then she spotted
the long chain with a handle so
she pulled on it with all her
might. She heard the sound of a
bell ringing deep inside the
house. She waited... and waited
for what seemed an eternity and
with every waiting moment she
felt her courage draining away.
She was about to turn and run

40

when the door was opened, not by Mrs Hurst
as she had somehow expected, but by one of
the housemaids. Hannah recognised her from
the village and the maid obviously knew who
Hannah was too.

“Hannah Thompson! What do you think you
are doing coming here? If it’s carol singing
then come back this evening with the rest of
the church and if it’s begging then be gone
now before the butler catches you and sees
you off with a tanned backside. Look at the
state of you for goodness sake.”

Hannah stood her ground. “If you please,
miss” she replied, “I have a very important
message for Mrs Hurst.”

“Oh my word!” laughed the maid. “An import-
ant message for her ladyship from young Miss
Hannah Thompson! Whatever could that be?”
She was mocking her now. “For the last time,
be off with you.”

Just then another voice was heard from inside
the house. “Sarah, who is it calling? You
know I am far too busy with preparations to
take callers without an appointment this
morning.”

41

At the last word a face appeared over Sarah’s
shoulder. It was Mrs Hurst herself.

“Well, what have we here?” said Mrs Hurst,
looking Hannah up and down in disbelief.
“You look like you’ve fallen in a ditch then
rolled around in it.”

She looked at Hannah again quizzically. “I
know that little face. Now where have I seen
you before?”

“If you please ma’am I was in Brown’s
yesterday.” replied Hannah.

“Ah yes,” recalled Mrs Hurst, “Such a polite
child, waiting patiently. Now what’s your
business?”

This was not what Hannah had planned at all.
It was always going to be hard enough to
explain how she came to have the purse in the
first place, but stood there on the doorstep
facing the two of them she suddenly felt very
small and very afraid.

“If you please.. I’ve.. I’ve found..” The words
broke into tears that quickly turned to sobs.
Hannah swayed and she felt herself falling to
the ground in a faint.

The next few minutes were a blur, but Sarah

42

the maid told her later that Mrs Hurst had
picked her up herself and carried her into the
drawing room. Sarah had been sent to bring a
bowl of water to wash her down, a clean
smock for her to wear and a warm drink to
revive her.
When she came round the purse was already
out on a table beside the sofa with its contents
laid out next to it. A stern voice was saying “I
think you have some explaining to do young
lady.”

43

CHAPTER SIX

Hannah Tries to Explain

It was clear that Mrs Hurst’s first thought
was that the little girl had somehow filched
the purse from her bag as she was leaving the
shop. But then perhaps the girl had lost her
nerve when she realised what she had stolen
and was now trying to get a reward instead.

Hannah had not intended to tell the whole
story, but somehow it all spilled out. With her
head bowed and her hands pressed hard
round the warm cup, she explained nervously
how she came to be last in for school and saw
the little object in the snow and picked it up
without knowing at first what is was, how she
panicked and didn’t tell her teacher, how she
was sent straight to bed and heard the talk
downstairs and finally how she knew that
honesty was the best policy and how she just
wanted to be rid of the purse and she was
very, very sorry and please could she go home
now?

44

“Not so fast young lady.” came the sharp
reply.
Could this really get any worse? Was Mrs
Hurst going to call the police? Hannah finally
dared to look up. The house, the room and
Mrs Hurst herself were all quite overwhelming.
The lady was dressed elegantly in a full length
silk dress – a different one from the previous
day. Hannah thought just for a moment how
beautiful she looked but she was also a little
fearsome.
Mrs Hurst quizzed her more about her family

45

and her life at home. Hannah told her about
where her mother and brother worked and
about father needing to go away. She told her
too about all the jobs she did in the cottage,
making up the fire, cleaning, washing and
preparing the food. Finally she explained how
it seemed that soon she would have to say
good-bye to Miss Warburton and leave the
school that she loved to join her mother and
brother at the workshop.

As she spoke she started to regain her
confidence just a little and looked around the
room. There was a grand piano, rich,
upholstered sofas and a roaring fire in the
hearth. There was a smell of lavender in the
air. The walls were hung with portraits and
pictures of countryside scenes. Most of all
Hannah was dazzled by the gorgeous rugs
that lay in front of the huge fireplace. They
certainly looked grander than the rag rug on
the floor of her own home that she and her
mother had made together over last winter.
Through the doorway she caught the occa-
sional glimpse of servants scurrying to and
fro, carrying trays laden with dishes and
baskets full of linen. The whole house looked

46

magnificent beyond anything Hannah had
ever imagined. She wondered for a moment
how one family could have so much while hers
worked so hard yet had so little. One day,
when she was older perhaps, she would
understand.

When Mrs Hurst spoke again her voice was
less stern. “You’re an honest girl, Hannah
Thompson, and that’s the reason that this
whole business has been making you feel so
bad. It’s because you know you needed to do
the right thing. And now you’ve done it. It
sounds like you are a hard working girl too
and bright enough to read and write. I am
sure you deserve better than a life cutting
cloth with a knife.”

She paused for a moment as if gathering her
thoughts and coming to a decision before she
continued.

“I have a proposition for you. Do you know
what a proposition is, Hannah?”

“Is it a bit like a plan?”

“My word you are a bright girl.” answered Mrs
Hurst, smiling for the first time. Yes that’s a
much better word. I have a plan.”

47

And she laid it out to Hannah.

“It’s clear that your mother doesn’t want to
see you end up in the cutting shop like your
brother. Before too long I am going to need
another maid in the kitchen, but not yet a
while, and anyway you should stay in school
and learn all you can until you are twelve.
Meanwhile I could maybe call on you now and
again to help out here at the hall on special
occasions, and I will make sure that cook has
sixpence to give you for your trouble each
time. It’s all hard work mind, but nothing
you’re not used to at home and I like to think
that we’re a happy family here. I’m sure you
would fit in well. Now, how does that sound to
you?”

Hannah could not believe her ears. Mother
had talked to her once or twice about the idea
of going into service one day. It would almost
certainly mean living away and Hannah could
not bear the idea of leaving her family. For
once she was speechless and wanted to hug
Mrs Hurst, but knew she couldn’t. Instead all
she could manage was to breathe in a very
deep breath, smile a very big smile and nod
her head vigorously.

48