The Robin staggered through the narrow passageways of the Cragg, his satchel laden with correspondence.  He silently cursed his lot, why did these folks need post anyways? t's not like many of them could read. 

Still, it was his job to get letters and bills to the correct persons in this hodgepodge of houses. He knew many of the families here by heart: there were the Smiths on the east end, the Smiths on the west end, the Russells with pies so sweet, and the Derricks they lived here too.

Then there were the Wards.

In the opinion of this humble civil servant of Her Majesty's Royal Mail, old man Ward was a sour old bastard in both odour and temperament. His daughter was pleasant enough, the one with the wild ginger hair. She was the one who quietly took the post from his hand. Compare her to the grumbling or the shower of spittle. For that family it was mostly bills..

Today would be different. He had a package to deliver to the Wards. Getting rid of it would lighten his burden considerably. Wrapped in brown paper and twine, it had the feel of something soft and was addressed to Anne Ward. There was no sender, rather a middle aged woman stopphim and asked "would ye mind? if yer goin' that way anyway..." 

The two extra shillings jangling in his pocket was proof that he did not if fact mind at all.

Anne had woken up with a sense of dread in her stomach. The day was here. She was sixteen. It was a day like any other. They never celebrated birthdays in a grand way. There was work to be done if they wanted to eat. And it wasn’t that different from turning fifteen. Only it was... To Anne it was.

She sat up with a jerk when she heard movement in the other room. Her father was already up and lighting the stove. That was Anne’s job. She had not heard the clock strike four. It was a day like any other and now she was gonna get told off. She should hurry. A merciful distraction.

She washed quickly and slipped her clothes on. Then she looked in the cracked mirror and the inevitable dread returned. She really ought to start wearing her hair up permanently now. She already did it to church. She enjoyed it on those occasions, because people told her she looked elegant. It was playing at being a woman. But from today on, it was not a child’s game. She was a young woman.

She brushed her hair slowly, dreading the sight of her pinned up hair more than her father’s reprimands for being late.

Sixteen. She was now as old as Maggie had been when she got married. It was hard to believe. Maggie had seemed so old and grown up in her eyes, although her father had thought her far too young at first, invoking the promise to their mother that the girls would not marry before they were nineteen at least. In Anne’s eyes Maggie had been a woman grown. Anne studied her own reflection. She looked quite grown up with her hair up. She had already started wearing longer skirts. But she felt like a girl.

At sixteen, Rose had been a maid in York, far away from her family, working to support them. And at sixteen Alice… Anne still shuddered to think of it. Noah Longbottom of all boys. Anyway, Alice too had married at sixteen.

Maggie seemed ever pregnant and miserable. Rose had been miserable in service. Her marriage ought to have brought happiness, but Anne could feel something was wrong. And as for Alice… It seemed there was nothing left of her sister. Alice didn’t even write back to her these days. Womanhood had brought her sisters no happiness.

And now she was next.

She certainly wouldn’t rush into any marriage. She would let no boy trick her. She would reject promises of wealth and happiness. She knew she wasn’t very brave, but she’d rely on herself.

She’d rely on herself.

She stood before the mirror in silence for a moment, then she turned and knelt by her bedside. Her prayer was no doubt a heresy, but the vow was solemn. She rose with a dignity that was quite unknown to her.

She felt ready to face her father’s reprimands, but the only shouts that greeted her that morning were “happy birthday!” It was not yet four. But her brothers were up as well as her father and all her chores had been done. Her father seemed quite emotional as he hugged and kissed her, and told her her mother would have been so proud if she could see the good little woman Anne was growing up to be. He told her that she was to take Ellie and Kate to have ice cream at the new parlour on Saturday and buy a new pair of good shoes. Will gave her decorative flowers for her hat. Bram, much to his family’s surprise, had won two tickets for a magic lantern show in a spelling contest at school last week, which he now offered to his sister for her birthday with much pomp and ceremony. Anne, quite overwhelmed, asked him if he would please accompany her to the show, which he accepted with evident relief.

And then the day continued as usual. Her father and Will off to sea. Bram and herself off to the Scaur to pick flithers, until Bram had to leave for school. Anne had just returned to the yard, carrying her basket on her hip, when the postman arrived.

She put the bait down and took the package, studying it for an address. There was only her own. No sender. For a moment, she wondered if, or maybe just hoped, it was from Alice. But the handwriting didn't match. All the same, she was thrilled. She had never received a birthday package in the post before.

She opened it, then thought better off it and washed her hands. Flither picking was a mucky job. When her hands were clean, she took the package inside, sat down and opened it further, her stomach fluttering with excitement.

The brown paper and string fell away to reveal a neatly folded cream shirt with the bright buttons and puffy sleeves that were the style of the day. Beneath the shirt, peeked the folded mass of an olive green woolen skirt. Atop this pile was a note addressed to Anne:

Dearest Anne,

On ye sixthteenth birth day, ye are no longer a girl, but a woman. Ye deserve to dress as such, these clothes are a gift from me to ye. It will match nice with your straw hat. I hope that it fits, if not, come up to Osway and we'll get it mended. I hope ye enjoy yeur day.  Best wishes from the Blacke family.

- Mrs Blacke

P.S. I love ye very much, my darling - 'Mam'.

Anne was overwhelmed. The shirt was beautiful and stylish, the skirt smart and just the shade of green she adored. But it was the note that really reduced her to tears. She pressed it against her heart and allowed herself to shed tears of love in the rare privacy of her home. What had she ever done to deserve such a kind and loving mother hen in her life. Perhaps she cried because Mrs. Blacke reminded her of the mother who wasn't here to see her grow up. Perhaps she cried because Mrs. Blacke did so much to make up for it and she felt so immensely grateful. It felt good to be loved.

When the first strong emotion had passed, she dried her tears and got up. She went to her bedroom, reread the letter and then hid it in her clothes drawer. There was little privacy in this home, but she knew that her father and brothers would never dare go through her underthings. And so this was where Anne hid her treasures.

She returned to the kitchen, folded the skirt and shirt carefully and returned outside. They'd have to wait until later. There was bait to be prepared, lines to be fetched, dinner to be made, lines to be mucked and rebaited...

But Rose came to help her and when her father returned and saw what Mrs. Blacke had given her, he told her to put it on and show them.



"Does it look bad?" Anne asked anxiously, when her father, Rose and Will all looked at her in stupefied silence.

"Bad?" Rose finally manage to say. "My dear, you're beautiful." Anne blushed deeply. "Quite the fashionable young lady."

"That's settled then. Dad's never gonna let you go out again, or you'll be snatched up."

"Stop teasin' your sister, Will," her father protested. "Anne's smarter than that." He reached out and Anne gave him her hand. Her father put his other hand on top of it lovingly. "But don't you go growing up too fast, dear child. You 'ave a whole life ahead of ye. Now, you better run over to Oswy street and thank Mrs. Blacke. We'll manage 'ere. But be home well before dark and don't go by the harbour."

Her father had never told her not to go by the harbour before. She felt rather pleased with herself.



Anne, with her new clothes and her straw hat on and a woolen shawl over her shoulders to keep her warm, nearly flew over to Oswy street. A free afternoon was a rare treat. A free afternoon to be spent with Mrs. Blacke, after being spoiled rotten all day? It was almost too much. But the best thing of all would be the moment she could give Mrs. Blacke a big hug. Anne rapped on the door like a maniac, and as soon as Mrs. Blacke would open, she'd embrace her "Mam".

The banging on the front door was loud enough to be heard out down the back as Lottie wrestled with the laundry. She shuffled with haste down the main hall wiping soap bubbles off soaked palms and onto her apron.

"Alright, alright. Stop ye bangin'.. I'm nowt on fire," she muttered.