The Ribbon Weaver Read Free

tears as she thought of the plight of the poor girl, and in a second, Bessie’s mind was made up. Molly was known as a bit of a loner but she had always been good to the Bradley family, helping them through many a hard time. Now Bessie could finally do something for her in return.
    ‘Look,’ she said kindly, noting Molly’s pinched face, ‘you’re all in. I’ll go back to the church, see what’s happening, then I’ll run fer the doctor, eh?’
    Molly stared at her, gratitude lighting her face. ‘Oh Bessie, you’re a good ’un, but mind yer wrap up warm, it’s bitter out there and no mistake.’
    ‘Don’t yer go worryin’ about me now. You just make yourself a strong brew and get those wet clothes off, else it’ll be you I’m fetchin’ the doctor to.’ Bessie looked at Molly’s soaking wet skirt and flinched as she saw the blood on it, as well as the melted snow. Even more reason to make haste. ‘I’ll be back before yer know it,’ she promised, and with that she quickly let herself out into the blizzard. Within minutes she was back in her own cottage pulling her shawl over her head. A hundred questions were being flung at her from the children but she didn’t make time to answer them.
    ‘Now, Mary, you and Toby are in charge till I get back, do yer hear me? Tell yer dad I’ve been called away on an errand fer Molly when he comes in.’
    Mary nodded obediently as Bessie left the warmth of the kitchen to begin the journey back to the church. Within minutes she found herself up to her knees in snow, and more than once she lost her footing and almost went headlong, but still she pressed on. If the poor girl was as ill as Molly had said, then every second counted and she didn’t even pause to catch her breath.
    Attleborough Road was deserted and the odd cottages that she passed all had their curtains drawn tight against the freezing night. Now and again, the sound of families singing Christmas carols hung on the night air. Normally, Bessie would have found pleasure in the sound, but tonight all she could think of was reaching the church. At last it loomed into sight and for the first time, Bessie slowed her steps. She had never before in her life entered a graveyard at night. She was very superstitious, but after coming this far she didn’t intend to let Molly down.
    Battling up the path past the yew trees, she glanced this way and that at the tilting gravestones. Her heart was beathing wildly but she was almost at the church doorway now. The snowfall had long since filled in Molly’s earlier footsteps and appeared as a fluffy white carpet right up to the steps of the doorway.
    ‘Hello?’ Bessie called into the blackness. When no one answered, she cautiously stepped inside. Standing for some seconds, her teeth chattering with cold, she peered towards the heavy wooden doors. ‘Hello!’ Again there was no answer. She inched her way in further and further until at last her hand touched the cold brass handle of the door. But there was no one there – no girl, nor anything to suggest that anyone had ever been there.
    As Bessie plodded back to the lychgate, she had no idea that her old boots left red footprints in the snow.
    Pulling aside the curtains, Molly peered up the lane yet again for a sign of her neighbour. The oil lamp was casting a warm glow about the room and the fire was blazing merrily now, but Molly couldn’t settle, not till Bessie was back with news – and she knew that this could take some time if Bessie had to run for the doctor. But then suddenly the door banged inwards and poor Bessie almost fell into the room. She was white all over, and Molly dragged her to the fireside.
    ‘That was quick. I didn’t expect you back so soon. How is she? Did yer get the doctor to her?’ Molly bombarded Bessie with questions but the poor woman was so puffed out after her battle with the blizzard that for a few moments she could not answer. Molly pulled off her sodden boots and pressed her into a