Ruth watched as the blacksmith lifted the cartwheel he’d just been working on, the girl thought his arms resembled tree trunks and his hands, well, they reminded her of the meat pasties her Granny made. Would she miss this place when she and Reuben wed and moved into Magpies Roost? The answer was yes, but as her new home when she married Reuben Ford, was situated the other side of the Bill Jobson’s Smithy, then she supposed it wouldn’t be so bad. She would still hear the magpie’s wheezing, chittering squawk early on a summers morning as they also, were awakened by the blacksmiths hammering.

The village of Applebee was in the North Riding of Yorkshire, about one and a half miles from Hull. A pretty hamlet with a scattering of dwellings, two churches, one school, three sprawling farms, and a doctor by the name of Samuel De Witt. Ruth liked him, he had been kind to her mum during the illness, accepting in kind, a few eggs or an apple pie in exchange for treatment administered.

Fortunately, Kate Jennings, Ruth’s mother, seemed quite fit again and busy preparing for the big day; she was looking forward to the May wedding,
Ruth, however, was a little concerned about her mum, she never said much, but the girl knew about the pain her mother tried to cover up. Her heart wasn’t as strong as she made out, Ruth had watched as Kate struggled to breathe on many occasions.

“A nice time to get wed Lass.” She’d said to Ruth, “Eighteen’s a bit young, but Reuben Ford is a good Lad, and you won’t be far away.”

Ruth was fond of her Mam, and she would miss living in this cottage, but she comforted herself with the thought that her new home was only be two doors away, she could pop in every day and make sure her Mam and Dad were alright.

The 20th of May 1903 arrived. Ruth awoke to a bright morning, she stretched, and yawned, and as she lay looking up at the ceiling, a shadow came across her face. She was happy, of course she was, in a few hours she would be Mrs Ruth Ford, but this little cottage had been her home since she was baby.

Ruth hadn’t been the only child to Kate and Eli Jennings, there had been another girl but Ruby had died of consumption at the age of three. This had almost broken her parents, Ruth could only vaguely remember the tragedy, her being about five at the time, but she remembered the wooden box, and the crying.

“Come on Ruth, time to get up love.” Her mother called up the stairs. Ruth pushed the rough blankets back, and almost reluctantly left the comfy flock mattress, she was happy however that the feather pillows her mother had made for her, would be going with her to Magpie’s Roost, her new home.

Ruth poured a jug of water into the wash bowl removed her night-shirt, and began to wash, being careful not to wet the strips of rag that her mother had laboriously tied into her thick dark hair. Ruth didn’t care for this much, feeling the bits of cloth tended to pinch her neck, but she had to admit, that the ringlets were rather fetching, especially when tied up with pink ribbon.

“Breakfast’s on the table Lass, Martha laid you a nice brown egg this morning, special.” Her dad was sitting at the old, well-scrubbed table. Ruth walked in to the kitchen. She went over to her father and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Eli gave his daughter that lovely toothless smile, he gazed appraisingly at her, and thought how much like her mam she had become, same dark hair, slim figure and the dark blue eyes that set off that elfish face. Not so elfish now in her mother’s case, but then, Kate was older and the suffering was still evident in her careworn features.