The Lady of Pelham Street

by Deborah Carr

  Mrs Boots of Pelham Street

  DEBORAH CARR

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

  Copyright © Deborah Carr 2020

  Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Deborah Carr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008377120

  Ebook Edition © 2020 ISBN: 9780008377113

  Version: 2020-04-06

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue: March 1891

  Part 1

  Chapter 1: January 1892

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4: February 1892

  Chapter 5: March 1892

  Chapter 6: April 1892

  Chapter 7: October 1892

  Chapter 8: May 1893

  Chapter 9: June 1893

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11: November 1893

  Chapter 12: Christmas 1893

  Chapter 13: January 1894

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15: January 1894

  Part 2

  Chapter 16: March 1901

  Chapter 17: April 1901

  Chapter 18: June 1901

  Chapter 19: July 1901

  Chapter 20: July 1902

  Chapter 21: August 1902

  Chapter 22: 23rd August 1902

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24: December 1902

  Chapter 25: Spring 1904

  Chapter 26: Easter 1904

  Chapter 27: June 1904

  Chapter 28: July 1904

  Chapter 29: July 1904

  Part 3

  Chapter 30: May 1907

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33: Late July 1907

  Chapter 34: June 1908

  Chapter 35: 29th July 1908

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Deborah Carr

  About the Publisher

  To my daughter Saskia, with love and admiration for all that you’ve achieved

  Prologue

  March 1891

  Florence Boot gave one last look out of her living room window. As she took hold of the heavy velvet curtains, she smiled at the purple and orange crocuses that her husband Jesse had planted for her several months before. She sensed someone watching her and looked up to see one of her neighbours smiling from the amber glow of the gas lamp across Wellesley Road. Florence waved. It had been another tiring day working alongside Jesse at the Boots store on Snig Hill. She enjoyed living in Sheffield, although Jesse had been ruminating more often lately about returning to his native Nottingham at some point soon.

  At that moment all Florence looked forward to was spending a quiet evening at home relaxing with Jesse, their nine-month-old daughter Dorothy, and their two-year-old son John in their cosy living room.

  Florence tugged at the heavy curtains, drawing them together against the cool evening air. She turned to watch her husband slowly rotating the handle on the zoetrope that was keeping their children amused on the colourful rug in front of the fire. This was her favourite time of day, when their two live-in domestic servants had gone up to their rooms, and Eliza, who preferred to live out, had left for home.

  Dorothy burbled happily, more interested in sucking her thumb than what was happening in front of her. John, on the other hand, chuckled loudly each time Jesse stopped moving the handle to suddenly rotate it again.

  ‘He’s besotted with that toy you bought him for his birthday, Jesse,’ Florence said as she sat on her high-backed chair. ‘Let me know when your arm is tired, and I’ll take over.’

  John gave another deep belly laugh as the pictures flickered in front of his face. Florence wondered if maybe he should be moved back from the toy – seeing those pictures flickering speedily in front of his young eyes must be tiring – but she didn’t like to interrupt their fun.

  ‘I’m hoping he’ll grow tired of the moving slides soon enough,’ Jesse said, grinning as he glanced up at her, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘But he doesn’t seem to be losing any interest just yet.’

  Florence laughed and watched the three most important people in her life. She couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was to have been blessed with so much happiness. She wondered how her younger sister Amy’s life would have been if she had found someone like Jesse to settle down with. Florence smiled at the thought of her independent sister and what she would say if she was to hear her ever voice this opinion aloud.

  ‘What are you thinking about, my love?’ Jesse asked, as John giggled at the pictures moving animatedly in front of him.

  ‘Only that for a woman who never wished to be married, or indeed ever expected to have children, I’m entirely content with my lot.’ She smiled at the irony of how different her life had turned out compared to what she had always imagined she wanted.

  Jesse laughed. ‘You are still an independent woman in many ways, my dear. Never fear on that score.’

  She was, and she knew it. Florence stifled a yawn, not wanting Jesse to notice how tired she was, especially as she had only recently persuaded him that continuing to work long hours now that she was a mother with two small children was not taking its toll on her in any way. Despite being thirteen years older than her, Jesse had proved to be a very forward-thinking husband and hadn’t minded too much when she had insisted on working after John’s birth. She was careful not to give him any reason to think that it might be time for her to spend her days at home bringing up their children, now they had two of them to care for.

  She also did her best to ensure Jesse relaxed as much as possible when he was at home. The last thing she intended letting him do was worry, or spend time planning his next venture with the Boots Pure Drug Company. He needed at least a few hours each day enjoying time with his family when he could forget about business and simply be himself.

  Florence took a calming breath and sat forward slightly in her seat.

  ‘I’m not as independent as I used to be,’ she said, ‘and I’m happy for it.’

  He looked up at her from his place on the rug and sat back on his haunches. ‘Tell me,’ he said quietly. ‘I know there’s something bothering you that you’ve been wishing to discuss with me. What is it?’

  She wasn’t sure why she was surprised that he had noticed her nervousness. Florence loved that Jesse cared enough not to let any anguish she might feel continue unduly. She would have to voice her fears, because now that Jesse had become aware
of them he wouldn’t let things lie until she had shared them with him. She also knew they wouldn’t go away until she had told him. She reached out to take his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘I want us to try for another child.’

  She waited anxiously for his response. Florence didn’t elaborate, allowing Jesse a moment to absorb her thoughts. She watched him frown thoughtfully. He forgot to turn the handle on the zoetrope.

  ‘Papa, Papa,’ John whined, pushing Jesse’s arm to get his attention.

  Jesse ruffled John’s hair. ‘You try now, my boy,’ he said, taking John’s pudgy little hand and placing it on the handle of the zoetrope. ‘Turn it, slowly, like this.’ He kept his hand over John’s smaller one and turned the handle several times until the toddler became used to the motion. Then, as he rose with a little difficulty to his feet, Dorothy began to grizzle and he picked her up. He stood by Florence’s chair, still not catching her eye.

  Jesse kissed the top of Dorothy’s dark hair and then passed her down into Florence’s arms, before bending and kissing Florence.

  ‘I’m happy to try for another child, if that’s what you want.’

  Florence was relieved. Now that she had two children, the need for another was intense. She felt her cheeks flush. ‘You won’t mind?’

  ‘Not about having more children. Only that I worry for you taking on too much,’ he said. ‘I know you insist that you are fine coping with all that you fit into your days, but I wouldn’t be a caring husband if I didn’t notice that on occasion, like this evening, you’re weary.’ He sat on his chair next to hers and took hold of Dorothy’s little hand, smiling silently down at John.

  ‘What is it?’ Florence asked, seeing his eyes well up.

  He turned his attention back to her. ‘I want you to be the happiest you can be, Florence.’

  ‘I know that.’ She didn’t understand the direction their conversation was going.

  Jesse stared at her in silence for a moment. ‘You’re going to tell me that you want to keep working when this next baby is born too, aren’t you?’

  He knew her too well. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, glad to get this point of contention out of the way. ‘I am. I know most women would be happy not to work.’

  ‘But you’re not most women, Florence,’ he interrupted fondly. ‘You are truly unique, and I love you for it.’

  Florence sighed. ‘I know you do, and I’m grateful to you for caring about me enough to let me make my own choices about working.’ She hesitated. ‘I sometimes can’t help wondering though if I’m being selfish giving in to my need to continue working alongside you at Boots. There’s so much more that I want to achieve for the female employees working for the company, and I can’t help them if I’m not there. And, unlike other women, I have the freedom to take my children with me to work and look after them there.’

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘And you think you’ll be able to cope with three children to care for? You’re already tired looking after two on occasion. Especially now John is wanting to spend more time moving about, rather than sitting in the office playing with his toys?’

  Florence knew Jesse made sense. She wished she didn’t feel such a need to continue working, and could act more like other women lucky enough to enjoy her social status, but it simply wasn’t in her to do so. She had no idea how she would make it work, that was the truth of it, but she was determined to at least give it a try.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she said, sounding more confident than she felt. Florence knew from experience growing up that it was better to ask for more than you expected to receive.

  ‘Then I won’t challenge you over your decision,’ he said, leaning down to help John with the zoetrope once more. ‘However, if I do feel you’re struggling, then I will have to say something to you. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, grateful not to have to quarrel with him about her decision.

  John grizzled and tired of the zoetrope, pushing the cylinder over.

  ‘Come to Papa,’ Jesse said, scooping John up into his arms. He sat back in his armchair and, placing John on his knees, bounced him up and down to distract him from the toy.

  ‘I can’t believe that at the age of forty I’m discussing becoming a father for the third time,’ he laughed.

  Florence breathed in the familiar scent of her baby girl’s head and watched Jesse with his beloved son. Her heart felt as if it was filling almost to bursting point. She had so much to be grateful for – was she right to wish to continue working? Was it fair on John and Dorothy, and the next baby, if they were lucky enough to have another one, for them to spend so much time in an office with her? Or was she simply being greedy and selfish?

  Florence thought back to when she was younger and living above her parents’ stationery shop in St Helier. She used to go downstairs from her parents’ flat to the shop where her mother worked long hours alongside her father. The only difference between her childhood and her children’s was that financially her parents had both needed to work. Florence believed she had gained her work ethic from watching how her parents lived their life and hoped that by continuing to work, if nothing else she would be teaching her children, especially her daughter, by example.

  Florence wanted Dorothy to grow up knowing that women should have the right to make their own choices. Why should women not continue working if they chose to do so? She also wanted her son to be raised believing that it was normal for a mother to elect how she conducted her life. As far as she was concerned, she couldn’t do those things if she did as society commanded and stayed at home.

  What about Jesse though? she wondered. Was she asking too much for him to continue accepting that his children be brought to the office on a daily basis, while he was trying to work in his office next door? He had such a heavy responsibility on his shoulders already, trying to keep control of expanding their stores and factory departments. Did she have the right to be so stubborn? Or was she simply being greedy?

  She contemplated her concerns as she hugged Dorothy to her, her hand resting on the tiny round belly, as her daughter kicked her legs back and forth. If Jesse was happy for her to carry on as she had been doing, then who was she to argue? She really was the luckiest woman she knew and would be forever grateful that Jesse’s sister Jane had suggested he travel to Jersey to recuperate from his breakdown six years before. Her life would have been very different if they had never met. Florence knew she would have been happy, because she had loved living in Jersey and working with her father and sister at W H Rowe’s Stationers, but nothing gave her as much joy as the life she led now.

  She was married to a man who not only adored her, but who most of the time accommodated her wishes. He gave her the freedom to be herself and the lifestyle to allow her to continue working even though other mothers were forced to remain at home.

  ‘You have given me an inordinate amount of joy since our marriage, dearest Florence,’ Jesse said, distracting her from dwelling further.

  ‘And,’ she said, taking his hand in hers, ‘you’ve done the same for me, my love. We are very lucky to have found each other.’

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  January 1892

  ‘Mrs Boot?’ Agnes Tweed, Florence’s secretary, knocked quietly on her office door.

  ‘Come in,’ Florence called, wincing as her baby gave a couple of kicks inside her stomach. It was hard to believe that John was now three, having celebrated his third birthday the previous week. Dorothy was already nineteen months old now, and in three months Florence would be giving birth to her third child.

  She and Jesse had fitted so much into their lives since their marriage and Florence could barely believe all the things they had achieved together and how far they had come since then. Business had been continually increasing and now Jesse was in the stages of completing the paperwork to take over the rest of the factory building on Island Street.

  She wondered how much bigger their empire would need to be to satisfy h
is ambitions. They had over eighty staff working at that factory already, most of them women whom she had recruited to work there. Florence enjoyed being able to give the women placements in the various departments. There was no reason they wouldn’t be as capable as men at packing, bottling, and working in the printing department. In fact, Florence mused, the female employees had proved themselves very worthy when it came to advertising, laboratory work, and also looking after the business accounts.

  Florence had been proud when, on the way to the office that morning, Jesse had told her that they would soon be able to open their thirtieth store. She was amazed but knew that their success was bolstered by them both working up to fourteen hours each day, despite the slow decline in Jesse’s health.

  The door opened slowly and her secretary peered around it. The smile on her face disappeared as her eyes rested on John’s empty cot next to Florence’s desk.

  Florence glanced at the pulled-back crochet blanket her mother had sent over specifically for her daughter Dorothy’s birth last year. She had to admit, if only to herself, that working in late pregnancy while caring for a three-year-old and a toddler was rather more tiring than she had anticipated. Not that she had any compulsion to share her thoughts on this with Jesse. If he realised how exhausted she felt at the end of each day he would soon put a stop to her going to work, at least until this baby had been born and she had taken time off to recover from the birth.

  ‘Master John and Dorothy are awake?’ Miss Tweed asked, trying not to peer too obviously over Florence’s desk at the little camp beds behind it.

  ‘They were getting restless.’ Florence could see the disappointment on the woman’s pale face and suspected that Miss Tweed had come in before the store opened to see the children before anyone else had the chance to. Florence wished her secretary would find the young man she had confided that she longed to meet so that she could settle down and have a family of her own. Florence thought of her own intention as a young woman not to marry and give up her independence, and how those plans had dissipated when she had met and spent time with Jesse. It hadn’t taken long for her to discover how enjoyable it could be to spend time with him over anyone else.