Hannah and the Ruby Glass (with covers)

“Now you had better be on your way in case
your parents are worried about you. Take this
envelope and whatever you do, don’t lose it.”
Hannah had heard that warning before! “It’s a
little reward for your honesty that may just
help you out over Christmas. Five pounds is a
lot of money. I had just taken it out of the
bank to buy presents for Christmas, so I was
very upset when I thought I had lost it. And
you must keep the smock as a little gift. I have
a daughter, just a little older than you. It fits
you well and she has no more need of it.
Sarah has put your old one in a bag for you.”
Hannah wanted to tell Mrs Hurst just what a
huge weight she had lifted from her shoulders
and how happy she had made her, but she
was still just a little frightened so all that
came out was another whispered, “Thank you
ma’am.” She did at least to remember to
curtsey as Sarah came to take her to the door.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Hannah Gets a Reward

If Mrs Hurst had looked out of her drawing
room window just a few seconds later she
would have seen a very happy girl running
down the drive and occasionally spinning
round in circles, waving the bag with her old
dress above her head. Hannah stopped, still
panting, when she reached the huge elm tree
at the end of the drive, out of sight of the
house.

Hannah fingered the envelope trying to guess
what was inside. Sixpence would buy her
more coloured paper and pencils to make
Christmas cards for the family, to replace the
one she had lost yesterday – perhaps there
would even be a couple of pennies over for
humbugs too, so that she could give
Christmas gifts to her family. But maybe
sixpence would pay for some coal to keep
them warm over Christmas. How much did
coal cost? She had no idea. She only knew

50

that it cost so much that sometimes they went
without and burnt twigs and bracken from the
woods. Or maybe she should buy a sixpenny
plum pudding like the ones she had seen in
Brown’s window. But what was she thinking?
If she had sixpence she should give it to her
parents to spend wisely for all of them.

She slid her hand into the envelope and pulled
out a coin. She held it up to the light and
carefully read the writing on the small silver
coin. It said “one shilling.” Her hand went
back in four more times and she pulled out
another shilling each time. She had taken five
pounds to Mrs Hurst who had replaced every

51

gold sovereign with a silver shilling. Now she
understood what the lady had meant when
she said it might just help over Christmas.

She got to her feet, folded the envelope care-
fully into the pocket of her new smock and
strode out proudly for
the village. She passed
the plum pudding in
Brown’s window - that
was just too big a
decision for her to take
- but she did stop at the
sweet shop. She paused
again to gaze at the ruby “forago” glass, but it
would not be right, she thought, to use any of
the reward to treat herself to a present.
Instead she had decided that she would buy
the coloured paper, the pencils and some mint
humbugs. Altogether it came to sixpence and
a halfpenny, but Mrs Hanson let her off the
extra halfpenny as it was Christmas and
because she had always had a soft spot for
the little girl.

Hannah hurried on past the bridge. It must be
midday by now and everyone had promised
they would be home early to prepare for

52

Christmas Day. As soon as she got in she
kicked off the hateful boots with the holes and
changed back into her old dress. She laid out
the coloured paper on the table and set to
work with her pencils just as she had been
shown by Miss Warburton. Her pictures were
of the shepherds, of the Angel Gabriel and
baby Jesus in his manger surrounded by the
animals. She had enough for three cards and
two sweets to slip inside each one. She stood
back to admire her work. Gabriel’s wings
looked a little crooked but that was fine. They
certainly weren’t as grand as the cards she
had seen in the shop windows. But she knew
these were special because she had made
them. She hid her presents upstairs under the
bed before collecting some wood from the back
door for the fire.

The kettle was just coming
to the boil when her mother
and John arrived home with
a small bag of shopping.
Her brother ran straight
upstairs with it. Hannah
smiled. She knew it would
contain the oranges and

53

hazelnuts for tomorrow. Before the tea was
even poured, the door opened again and
Hannah’s father came in beating his arms
against his sides to get warm. He was smiling
for once.

“Well this is a fine welcome and no mistake;
the fire lit and hot tea on the stove. Well done,
Hannah Thompson say I.”

“Gosh, he really is in a good mood for once.”
thought Hannah.

The reason for her father’s cheeriness soon
became clear. In an unusual fit of generosity
the farmer had just that day offered Mr
Thompson a small allotment of land on the
farm where he could grow his own vegetables.
“It’s a difficult little patch”, he explained to the
family, “just behind the barn and covered with
nettles in summer, but I am sure if I had three
willing helpers of a Sunday we could soon be
growing all our own veg. We may even have a
few extra to take to market. Any volunteers?”
Three hands shot up to the general sound of
laughter in the room.

Next up was John. This week for the first time
there had been no spoiled cloth at work. It
meant an extra three shillings on the table.

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Now at last it was Hannah’s turn. Where
should she start? In the end she told them the
whole story from the finding of the purse to
the gift of five shillings and Mrs Hurst’s
‘proposition’ for Hannah’s future.
The rest of the family listened in disbelief.
How could they not have realised how upset
Hannah had been the previous evening? How
could their brave girl have had the courage to
go to the hall on her own? It seemed that John
wasn’t the only one who was growing up fast.

55

CHAPTER EIGHT

Father Lays Down the Law

Ma and John both gave Hannah a big
hug and ma told her how proud she
was of her. Only her father sat tight-lipped.
After a minute he spoke.
“Seems to me”, he said, speaking slowly as if
he were still thinking it through, “seems to
me, that if she’s as grown-up as you say, she
could be working with the two of you at the
cutting shop and making more money too, I’ll
bet, than as a drudge in some rich woman’s
house or wasting her time at that school.”
The colour drained from Hannah’s cheeks as
she took in what her father was saying and
she looked desperately to her ma for support.
“Look what happened to my sister, your Aunt
Maud” he went on, “When did we see her last?
Years ago – that’s when. And why? Because
she went into service down at Northwood Hall.
That’s why. She writes me now and again. She

56

tells me she works every hour God sends, with
just Sunday afternoon to herself and not even
enough time to get home and see her family.
That’s no life, say I”.

Hannah bit her lip and fought back the tears.
John said nothing for fear of making his
father angry. For once though, it was her
mother who broke the uneasy silence.

“Now you listen here, Joseph Thompson” she
started defiantly. ““I’ve been cutting cloth in
that workshop for over twenty years now. It’s
left me half-crippled and just as poor as the
day I started. That workshop is no place for a
young girl. I feel bad enough taking John
there, but he’s a lad and can look after
himself. There’s some good people there sure
enough, but there’s bad’uns too. It’s not right
for Hannah. She’s a good pupil, Miss War-
burton says. If she stays at school a while
more and learns arithmetic and some sewing,
who knows where she may end up. And if she
were up at the Hall at least we’d be able to see
her now and again even if she lives in.”

Father looked stunned. He wasn’t used to
being challenged in his own home. Silence fell
on the room again and Hannah saw an

57

anxious look in her mother’s eyes. Had she
pushed him too far? Father didn’t often lose
his temper but when he did it sometimes
frightened Hannah.

Hannah realised that what her pa said next
could decide her future for years to come.

Father pushed his chair back from the table
and stood up. The rest of them held their
breath and looked at him expectantly.

“I will decide who does what in this house”,
he announced firmly “and no-one else. I say
it’s time for the reckoning. Martha, clear the
table.”

Hannah knew what would happen next. Every
week on pay day all the money was put on the
table and father would divide it up into small
piles: rent, food, coal, clothes, club - to pay
the doctor’s bills. It wasn’t usually a happy
time as there never seemed to be enough for
everything. Tonight though, there was more to
go into the kitty than most weeks, what with
John doing so well and Hannah’s gift from
Mrs Hurst.

The rest of the family knew better than to be
around while father was at this job. Ma and

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Hannah busied themselves preparing the meal
and John disappeared upstairs to polish his
boots.

It seemed to take an age. “What’s taking him
so long?” whispered Hannah to her mother as
they worked away at the sink. “He’s thinking.
It’s no good rushing him.” answered her
mother with an anxious smile.

Every now and then there would be a sigh, a
mutter or a shake of the head as father totted
up his numbers again and slid coins from one
meagre stack to another. At last he spoke. “I
need to think. I am off out for a Christmas ale
or two. There’ll be food on the table in an hour
I am guessing. I’ll bring coal.”

And with that that he scooped one of the piles
of coins into his pocket, picked up his coat
and was gone slamming the door behind him
just a little harder than was needed.

Hannah was confused and disappointed.
Father seemed to have listened to Ma yet he
had almost stormed out giving Hannah no
chance to speak or maybe even give him a
hug. Instead it was her mother who put her
arm round her.

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“Come and sit down”, she said “and let me try
and make you understand. Life is not always
easy for us but it’s nothing compared to how
your father grew up. He had five brothers and
two sisters. Only three of them even made it
past twenty. I wouldn’t want to tell you how
his family had to live in Manchester, but I’ll
just say there were precious few hugs in that
house. When he was thirteen he walked out
and took to the road. In the end he got work
as a navvy building the railway, and that’s
how I met him, when he came to the village.
He had all sorts of great plans, America even,
but in the end there was hardly enough
money to get us through the week, let alone
save anything.

But he still wants better. It’s maybe a bit late
for him and me but there’s still the two of you.
We’ve talked about it. Your pa’s a good man.
He just finds it hard to show his feelings
sometimes. I just hope he is thinking things
through even now and realising what a good
girl you’ve been and how you deserve better.
Now we should be getting that tripe cooking;
we don’t want to disappoint him.”

It was dusk by the time father returned with a

60

bag of coal over his shoulder, a rosy glow in
his cheeks from the beer and with his pockets
bulging. He sat them all down at the table and
began to speak.

“I’ve been thinking and this is the way I see it.
We’ve had one good week. That five shillings
was a blessing, no question. We must thank
Hannah for that, but it won’t ever happen
again. John’s extra money is welcome. Let’s
hope he’s turned the corner and can keep it
up. With three of you working together we
would have more chance of a decent living, no
doubt about that. And the stories my sister
tells me make me think that being a maid is
just one step up from slave labour if you get in
the wrong house.”

This was not going well and Hannah could
already see her dream fading. Pa drew breath
and went on.

“On the other hand I have that piece of land to
work now. I hear enough stories in the Fleece
of a Saturday night to know that the cutting
shop is a hard life for a young girl. I was
drinking with Tom Foster the gardener from
up at the Hall. He tells me that the Hursts are
good people. They nearly lost a daughter at

61

Hannah’s age just a couple of years back and
couldn’t do enough to help Tom and his
missus when their lad went down with scarlet
fever. He pulled through too, Thank God. Your
ma and I never went to school and look how
we ended up. Maybe this is our chance to
change things.”

He drew breath and continued, warming to his
subject.
“I reckon Hannah will stay at school another
year at least till she’s eleven. If the Hall will
take her then, that’s all the better. She’ll have
to skip school in the summer to help with the

62

harvest anyway and she can walk up to the
farm after school some nights and do some
work on our plot. As for the money at least we
can end the year with our heads held up.
There’ll be no more talk of moving out or
working away for a while yet. We’ve money for
the rent and the doctor’s bills too.”

He seemed pleased with his speech but just in
case anyone needed reminding he added,

“That’s what I’ve decided and so that’s what
we’ll do.”

It seemed that mother knew him very well.
Hannah and her mother exchanged a secret
smile. Father pushed back his chair and stood
up, enjoying his position as head of the family.
He winked at the children and reached in his
pocket. “I’ve still fourpence left. If you’re quick
I saw there was one pudding left in Brown’s
window. He may just let you have it cheap to
be rid of it.” John and Hannah had their boots
on in the blink of an eye but then Hannah
remembered to thank her father and even
managed to give him a quick hug before she
and her brother rushed out of the door. They
arrived breathless just as Mr Brown was
pulling down the blinds and shutting up shop,

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but he was happy to open the door to sell his
last pudding. On the way back they stopped
for one last look in Mrs Hanson’s threepenny
window. They were disappointed to find that it
was completely empty and the shop all closed
up. Hannah couldn’t help but wonder what
had finally become of the ruby glass.
After their meal there was fun and games.
Hannah couldn’t wait for Christmas Day and
gave everyone their Christmas card and the
humbugs. “So that’s where the extra sixpence
went”, laughed John. Then there was a game
of hunt the thimble and even father joined in
when the family draped sprigs of holly round
the room for Christmas Day. By eight o’clock,
with the fire low, the candle burnt down and
with everyone exhausted, it was time for bed.

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CHAPTER NINE

Christmas Morning

Hannah woke to the rich smell of rabbit
stew already cooking in the big pot
downstairs. For the second day in a row she
slid her hand into the secret hiding place
beneath her pillow but this time it was to find
her new smock from the lady at the hall.

John was already awake peeling an orange
and with a new cap on his head that had once
been his father’s. He was trying out his new
catapult, his reward for doing so well in the
workshop. Hannah was happy for her brother
and tried hard not to feel just a little jealous.

As Hannah swung her legs out of the bed her
feet knocked against her boots though she
was sure she had left them at the end of the
bed the night before. She picked them up to
move them. No holes! Father must have
bought new soles while he was out and
mended them himself after the rest of the
family had gone up.

At the end of the bed Hannah’s stocking was

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bulging with fruit and next to it, with the
morning sun shining through it … was a ruby
red glass ... the ruby red glass... the ‘forago’
glass. Hannah could barely contain her
excitement. She flung herself across the bed
and, lying on her back, picked it up and held
it to the light.
Turning it round slowly in her hand for the
first time, she could read the whole message.

It said ‘For a good girl’.
Hannah smiled proudly. She held the glass up
again and played at looking round the room
through the red glass. It made everything look

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different. As she gazed through the glass her
mind wandered back over two very busy days
when she had done a lot of growing up. She
thought of all the kind people like the
shopkeepers, her teacher and, of course, Mrs
Hurst. She shuddered at the thought of Mr
Cooke and felt angry inside that her mother
and John had to go there every day. She
thought about what life must have been like
for her father growing up in Manchester and
what he had said about being ‘in service’. She
just hoped that life would surely be better at
the Hall than in the workshop. Above all she
had learnt that when it comes to doing the
right thing, in the end, you must work it out
for yourself.

“Are you two coming downstairs this side of
dinnertime?” Ma’s voice boomed up the steps.

Hannah smiled. “Just coming Ma”, she called
back.

She put on her new smock and her mended
boots and, with her brother John behind her,
she bounded down the steep stairs, carefully
clutching her precious ruby glass. The future
would wait. Hannah and her family still had a
whole Christmas Day before them.

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AFTERWORD

A Little Bit of History

Well that’s the end of the story. You could
close the book now if you like but if you
have questions like “Did this really happen?”
then do read on.

The short answer is that of course it’s just a
story. There was no such person as Hannah
Thompson or her family. But the important
fact is that there were lots of girls and families
living lives just like hers in Lymm (which is a
real place) in Victorian times.

The first school that was open to all the
children in the village had started just a few
years before the time of this story. That’s why
Hannah’s mother couldn’t read or write. She
may have had the chance to go to an evening
school twice a week when she was younger,
but she would have been tired after working
all day and anyway some of the other children
may have laughed at her for going to lessons.

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It is certainly true that Hannah’s brother
could have been working full-time in the
fustian cutting workshop at the age of twelve.
In 1863, just ten years before the time of this
story a very important report tells us that over
a hundred children aged under thirteen
worked at fustian cutting in Lymm. Often they
were there for more than twelve hours a day!
Two of the workshop buildings, that still stand
in Lymm today, are on Church Road and on
Woodland Avenue. They are tall three storey
terraces and the workshops were on the top
floor – you can’t miss them.

Hannah didn’t really understand the work her
mother and brother did; “fustian cutting”. It is
quite hard to imagine. The workers had to lay
a piece of rough cloth on a long table and then
walk up and down with a very sharp, fine
blade on a wooden handle, cutting through
tiny loops. They had to concentrate hard and
leaning over all the time meant it was really
bad for their body especially for children,
whose bones were still growing.

What about Hannah’s home and the food she
ate? Many people at this time lived in very
small houses or cottages with very little

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furniture and few home comforts. The only
heating would have been a single open fire
where they also cooked. But even they were a
little better off than many of the mill workers
in the big towns and cities like Manchester
and Salford where Hannah’s father grew up.
Children would certainly share a bedroom and
quite likely a bed too. Sometimes a whole
large family would sleep in in the same room.

Hannah had only one brother and no sisters
which was unusual. Maybe there had been
other children in the family who had died very
young. Many families had six or more children
but there were many serious infectious
diseases and some children may not have
survived. Lymm had an isolation hospital
where children would be taken and kept away
from people while they were infectious so they
did not spread disease.

Food was very basic and many people ate
mainly potatoes, other vegetables and bread.
Once or twice a week if they were lucky there
would be cheap meat, maybe tripe (the
stomach of a cow) or a rabbit. Dripping, that
Hannah had for breakfast, is the dried animal
fat that comes from beef when it is cooked.

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The railway that Hannah could see from her
bedroom window has come and gone. The
trains started running in 1853, about twenty
years before the story and it certainly changed
the village as many more well-off people like
cotton merchants and businessmen from Man
-chester came to live in Lymm and started to
build huge new houses near the station on
Whitbarrow Road. Today the old railway line
is the Trans-Pennine Trail. The Ranger Hut,
near the Lymm Hotel, stands on the site of
what was once the station.

The Bridgewater Canal was still important but
gradually the railway was taking over as it
was so much quicker for moving people and
goods to and from Manchester. It was the
canal that carried the fustian cloth to and
from the city. You can still spot the little
tunnel where they kept the ice-breaker boat
that is mentioned in the first chapter of the
story. It’s between the village and the library.
You can see it best from the towpath on the
other side of the canal. The canal also took
passengers on the ‘packet boat’ all the way to
Manchester but that took many hours. When
the railway opened it took only half an hour.

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Although the village was much smaller than it
is today there were many more shops. That’s
because there was no such thing as a
supermarket and it was very difficult for most
people to travel any distance so they needed to
buy everything close to home. Although there
were more shops they were all quite small.
And there would have been many more people
making and mending things. Dress-makers,
shoe repairers, clockmakers and blacksmiths
are just a few examples.

What about ‘The Hall’ and the ‘gentry’? Well,
at the time of the story, there were several
‘grand houses’ in Lymm. Most of them have
now been demolished. You can still see the big
gateposts for one of them, Beechwood Hall, if
you walk along Crouchley Lane in Lymm.
Oughtrington Hall (now a part of Lymm High
School ) was another. The one Hall that has
survived almost unchanged is Lymm Hall so
that is the one we have used in the story. It is
hidden away in the centre of the village with
big grounds around it and it is still someone’s
home so it’s not possible to visit except
sometimes on special occasions. If you are in
the middle of the village by Lymm Cross you

73

should be able to spot the gate on Rectory
Lane that Hannah slipped through on her way
to return the purse.

The gentry were wealthy people who owned
land and property. Often they were so wealthy
that they didn’t have to work. They could live
off the rent from their properties. Some gentry
just enjoyed their wealth but others felt they
had an important job to do in serving their
community. They would become magistrates
or councillors as well as providing the money
for important local projects like repairing the
church, or building a school or road.

All the gentry employed servants. It looks
from the story as if Hannah may one day
become one of those servants. By the 1870s
Lymm Hall’s estate was quite small compared
to many grand houses but even then they
would have had perhaps six full time staff
looking after the grounds, the kitchens and
the housework. Many other houses, some of
them quite modest, around the village would
have had at least one servant. This meant
that hundreds of people in Lymm, mainly girls
and women, worked in what was called
‘domestic service’. And it was very hard work.

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Young maids would work from six in the
morning till nine or ten o’clock at night with
only Sunday afternoons free.

Nothing showed up the difference between
rich and poor more than Christmas. By the
time of the story all sorts of things that we
think of as part of every Christmas were just
beginning to appear: crackers, cards, turkeys,
Christmas trees and puddings. Father Christ-
mas had only just started work and he
certainly didn’t get to every house. For poorer
people the most important thing about
Christmas was the day off work with simple
presents and the most special meal they could
afford. The idea that a family would go to a
shop like Brown’s for a plum pudding is
perhaps unusual.

Finally what about that ruby glass? Well it
does exist. It’s on a shelf in a cupboard in
our house. It has been in our family for nearly
a hundred years. It may not be quite old
enough to be in the story really but it did give
me the idea for the book so we let it in!

Maybe you have something in your home that
you could use as the spark to start writing a

75

story of your own. And if you are around
Lymm perhaps you will look again at some of
the places that you pass by every day and
think of Hannah and all the children like her
who grew up in Lymm in Victorian times.

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