The Lady of Pelham Street

by Deborah Carr

  Harriet groaned in pleasure. ‘This is incredible,’ she said, immediately taking another bite.

  Cook was last to finish hers.

  ‘Well, Mrs Rudge, what do you think?’ Florence waited for her cook’s verdict. She knew that Mrs Rudge always liked to feel superior when it came to her knowledge of food, but wanted her to agree that this particular loaf was, indeed, delicious.

  Mrs Rudge’s lips slowly drew back into a wide smile. ‘I have to agree with Harriet, madam. I thought I knew about bread, but this is something that’s new to me. I think I might even try to replicate it for the other servants when we return to St Heliers House.’

  Their weekend by the sea passed far too quickly for Florence’s liking and on Sunday night she stood hand-in-hand with Jesse staring at the incoming tide.

  ‘Thank you for arranging this for my birthday. It really was a perfect treat.’ She gave him a quick kiss, aware that her enjoyment of his surprise had made him happy.

  ‘I’m pleased that everyone had such a good time.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s time that we left now though. The charabanc will be waiting to take us back to town.’ He waved at the three children making the most of their last few minutes on the sand. ‘Hurry now, children. Come and fetch your bags.’

  The children grimaced and then did as they were told.

  ‘I wish we didn’t have to take the boat back to the mainland in the morning,’ Florence groaned.

  Jesse put his arm around her waist and pulled her gently towards him. ‘We can come back any time.’

  She knew he was right but doubted they’d be able to replicate the joy that each of them had experienced over the past few days. It had been truly perfect.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 30

  May 1907

  Florence gazed happily out of the library window and watched Jesse being driven out of the driveway. The vehicle had given Jesse a new lease of life. He loved the speed and got along well with Sam. The last three years had been busy, but satisfying ones, despite Jesse’s deteriorating health.

  John had left school the previous year, unfortunately without passing any exams. Jesse had been furious and, yet again, they had quarrelled. Florence wished Jesse would stop expecting John to be a replica of himself. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as proud of John as she was. Their son was a kind and decent man, and she never minded that he hadn’t excelled in his education despite Jesse’s annoyance. Florence believed that everyone’s strengths, and weaknesses, were different to everyone else’s; it was what made them all unique. John would find his way in the world, of that she was certain. She believed in John; she just wished Jesse would begin to, too.

  Now, with the latest upset when John had dropped out of his place at Jesus College in Cambridge a few months before, Jesse’s irritation with their son had escalated, culminating in a row the previous evening after dinner. Florence exhaled sharply at the memory of what had happened.

  ‘You will do as I say,’ Jesse had shouted, glaring furiously at John, who paced back and forth in the living room. ‘I’ll give you until Monday and then you’ll begin working for the company. Boots is your heritage, for pity’s sake. Most young men your age would be only too pleased to be given a position at the firm. You, of course, aren’t interested. You’re ungrateful, that’s what you are, John. And I won’t stand for it a moment longer.’

  Florence had been pretending to read her novel when their quarrel had begun. Her breathing sped up as she tried to refrain from becoming upset. ‘John is not ungrateful, Jesse,’ she said as calmly as she could manage, hoping that her intervention might reduce the tension between them.

  ‘I don’t know if I am interested yet,’ John snapped before her words were barely out of her mouth. ‘What if I want to build a career for myself in an entirely different field?’

  Florence immediately looked at Jesse to see his reaction.

  His mouth fell open for a couple of seconds before he closed it. ‘What career? You’ve never shown any interest in anything else. I might be able to understand your reluctance to work for me if you did have a passion for something else, but you don’t, do you?’

  John glared at his father. He looked as if he wanted to tell him something, but changed his mind before he actually said anything. Florence wished he would share what was on his mind. Maybe then she could help father and son find a way to bridge their differences.

  ‘John, darling,’ she said, going over to him.

  ‘No, Mother,’ he said angrily. Then softening his tone, he added. ‘I’m sorry. I know you want me to work at Boots with you both, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Or if I ever will be,’ he added before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

  Florence went to follow him, then thought better of it. John was upset, that much was obvious. He was struggling and it broke her heart to see him this way. She decided to let John calm down. She would speak to him tomorrow when Jesse was at work.

  ***

  ‘You can’t expect John to want the same things that you do,’ she had said over breakfast that morning when Jesse had brought up the subject yet again.

  ‘He’s not going to spend his time sitting around the house and vegetating,’ Jesse grumbled, before eating his last mouthful of egg. ‘He can come and work for Boots. It’s the family firm and it’s about time he started paying some attention to it.’

  Florence had known Jesse wouldn’t back down. When an idea formed in his head he was rarely able to let it go until he discovered that it wasn’t going to work. Unfortunately, in this instance, his determination was causing friction within their family. The girls were beginning to make excuses not to share breakfasts with them and Florence suspected it was because of Jesse’s annoyance with John.

  Even John hadn’t come down to breakfast this morning, which was out of character, and this upset her deeply. She didn’t want her son to feel like he had to stay away from Jesse to keep the peace. What would he do next, she wondered: plan to move out of St Heliers? She hoped not. It had been bad enough when he was away at boarding school, and she wasn’t ready for him to move out of the house for a long time yet.

  ‘I think John should be allowed to find something he wants to do,’ she argued. ‘You’re both so different, and he’s still only young. Give him time to find something that suits him.’

  Jesse drank the last of his tea. ‘He is eighteen, Florence. It is high time he stopped messing about and did what’s expected of him.’

  Florence could see the hurt in Jesse’s face and it occurred to her that he wasn’t trying to be difficult, but that it was upsetting him to think that John didn’t have the same passion for the business as they both did. Florence didn’t blame either of them for struggling to cope with each other, although she knew that if she was the one at the helm of the business, she and John would have little problem working together.

  Jesse wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘I’m getting older, Florence. I need to train him up so that he can at least take on some of the work for me. At this rate, I don’t imagine he’ll ever have enough knowhow to take my place in the company.’

  She wasn’t sure either, but didn’t say so. ‘Right now, you have a great team of managers working with you, and you also have me, don’t forget.’

  Jesse’s expression softened and he sighed. ‘I am eternally grateful for all that you do for the business, and for our family, Florence. You are the glue that binds everything together for me, do you know that?’

  She was aware that this was how he saw her, as he’d told her many times over the years, but hearing Jesse telling her these things never failed to make her heart swell. ‘And I’ve loved every moment.’ She took his hand and kissed the back of it.

  She turned away from the window and left the library. Apart from the quarrel with John and Jesse’s increasing frailty, the rest of their lives were wonderful. Florence was grateful for everything that they had together. Their daughters were happy, if growing up
a little too fast for her liking. It only seemed like a year or so when her children were small. Now Dorothy was seventeen, beautiful and confident, as was Margery at fifteen. Even the business was going well. It had taken them many years to get to this point and in a few months she and Jesse would be celebrating twenty-one years being married.

  She needed to take her mind off Jesse and John clashing with each other. It was a beautiful spring day after several days of intermittent rain, so Florence decided to pick some roses to display in one of her crystal vases. Jesse rarely noticed flower arrangements, but the floral scents in her living rooms always made Florence’s day a little brighter. She fetched her favourite wicker garden trug and secateurs and went outside. The sun warmed her face as she walked over to her rose garden. It was looking especially colourful this year and the scents transported her thoughts away from her worries.

  Her favourite rose was one that Jesse had surprised her with several years before. She had loved her Belle of Tehran rosebush so much that she had treated herself to several more and now had a rose bed purely for that one rose. It was situated outside the library where she could look at it from her favourite chair. Often she felt compelled to step outside and breathe in the heavenly scent emanating from the pink-tinged buds that opened into full white cushiony blooms.

  The day was peaceful and the only sound, other than that of a neigh from a horse, was the birds singing in the trees. Florence lifted the final bloom to cut and was relishing the beautiful scent of the velvety petals when she heard Margery calling for her.

  ‘Mother!’ Margery shouted from somewhere inside the house.

  Florence called back to let her daughter know where she was. She thought that Margery sounded tense, but, aware that it could be anything from a falling-out with a friend to discovering something she needed in a magazine, Florence wasn’t overly concerned.

  ‘There you are,’ Margery said, a little breathless and red-faced. ‘I couldn’t find you.’

  Florence was used to Margery’s tendency towards the overdramatic on occasion. She smiled at her younger daughter and held out the rose she had just pruned for Margery to smell.

  ‘Breathe in this delicious scent,’ she said. ‘It will make whatever’s worrying you less important. This rose is nature at its finest.’

  Margery glanced at Florence as if she wasn’t convinced, but after a second’s hesitation did as she asked.

  Satisfied that her daughter had taken a moment to calm herself, Florence placed the flower onto the others she had cut. ‘Now,’ she said, her instincts telling her that Margery was still agitated, ‘why are you frowning? Shall we sit down out here and you can tell me what’s happened?’ Florence placed her trug on the table and went to pull out one of the heavy wooden chairs to sit.

  When Margery didn’t move to pull out a chair for herself, Florence turned to her. ‘What is it?’ She took hold of Margery’s arms lightly. ‘Has something happened to you?’ she asked, trying not to panic.

  Margery shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Florence’s. ‘I almost don’t know how to tell you this.’

  Panic welled up in Florence’s chest. ‘What? Tell me, right now.’

  Margery frowned, then held out a folded piece of paper that Florence hadn’t noticed she was carrying until now. ‘I found this.’

  ‘Where?’ Florence asked, reaching out to take the note from Margery.

  Margery hesitated before letting it go. ‘In John’s room. When I went to see where he’d got to. He had agreed to go into town to meet some friends with Dorothy and me later on and I wanted to know exactly what time I should be ready.’ She let go of the letter. ‘He’s gone, Mother. John’s packed his things, and left.’

  Florence didn’t understand what she meant at first. She stared at her youngest daughter trying to take in what she had just told her, then looked down at the piece of paper in her trembling hands and unfolded it. She read it silently to herself.

  Dearest Mother,

  I’m sorry to do this to you, and know that you will be shocked and probably angry when you read this letter and discover that I’ve gone away. I know also that you will be disappointed with me for not staying and sorting everything out with Father. I was going to, but I can’t see the point when there is little chance of him changing his mind, and I’m not ready to change mine either.

  Florence gasped. Maybe John and Jesse were more alike than either had ever imagined. She read on, horrified.

  I booked a passage to Canada. By the time you read this I should hopefully have departed from Liverpool. I am truly sorry to do this to you Mother, but I don’t feel that I have any choice. Please don’t worry about me. As you know, Frank Hamilton always offered for me to stay with his family in Vancouver and so that is what I’m going to do. I don’t know when I will return, but maybe I’ll be able to make a life for myself there. He’s told me so much about his home and I feel certain that I will love it. I do hope so.

  Please tell Father that I love him, but I can’t see how I would fit in with the company, or working for him at Boots. He’s never thought I could do the work to his satisfaction and, rather than disappoint him, again, I believe it’s better if I leave now before we fall out any further.

  My love to Dorothy and Margery. Please apologise to them for me. I had agreed to go out with them, but didn’t want to confide my plans to my sisters and put them in the difficult position of knowing my intentions and having to keep them from you.

  My love to you, too, dearest Mother. I know that out of everyone you are the one I shall miss the most. Please try not to worry about me. I am fine and believe that this time away in Canada will be the making of me.

  I will write again as soon as I’m settled.

  Your son, John

  Florence’s knees gave way and she sat heavily on the oak garden chair behind her. She blinked away tears that made his words swim in front of her eyes, and cleared her throat. Then she read her son’s words several more times, trying desperately to absorb that he had indeed gone. She battled to compose herself. She didn’t want to upset Margery any more than she had already been. She took a deep breath and brushed the tears away with the back of her right hand, only for her cheeks to be wet with fresh tears immediately after.

  ‘He’s gone? You’re certain?’

  ‘I am,’ Margery cried. ‘I checked his wardrobe. Most of his clothes are missing.’ She hugged Florence from behind. ‘Do you think he’ll be all right where he’s going?’

  Florence realised she needed to pull herself together. This was no time for weakness. She needed to be strong for the rest of her family. John’s departure was going to devastate Dorothy, too, and Florence could only imagine what it was going to do to Jesse. She just hoped that the shock of discovering what John had done would not bring on another breakdown. Jesse was too frail to cope with another emergency like that.

  Florence stood up and pulled Margery into her arms. ‘Your brother will be fine,’ she reassured her. ‘I’m certain of it. I don’t believe John should have gone, but he’s no fool and can look out for himself. Besides, we all know Frank well, and if his family are nearly as kind and thoughtful as their son, then John will be well cared for.’

  As she said the words, the realisation of what had happened began to sink in further. Margery must have taken some comfort because Florence could feel the tension in her daughter’s body relax slightly.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Margery said and sniffed. ‘I wish he hadn’t gone though. I’m going to miss him and I know that Dorothy is going to as well.’

  ‘We all will,’ Florence said, her chest aching at the thought of her precious son going to the other side of the world. ‘You must remember how Frank always used to tell us how Canada is such a magnificent place? He showed us photos once of some incredible views near where he lived. At least we know that John will have a wonderful time.’

  As Florence spoke she knew she was trying to reassure herself as much as Margery. It did help though to think tha
t her son was going to stay with someone they all knew and were fond of. Frank’s family had written to her and Jesse to thank them for inviting their son to stay at St Heliers during holidays when he was unable to travel back to Canada. They had offered for John to stay with them several times, hoping to repay Florence and Jesse’s kindness to Frank. It helped her to focus on this, but only a little. She was going to miss him dreadfully.

  Florence let her arms drop from around Margery’s slim back. ‘I need to go and check John’s room for myself,’ she said, wanting to be sure that there hadn’t been any mistak. Maybe her son had changed his mind at the last minute and had forgotten to dispose of his letter.

  Florence hurried to join Margery in John’s room. By the time she reached her daughter she was standing next to John’s open and empty wardrobe.

  ‘You see?’ Margery said, indicating the bare hangers and near-empty cupboard drawers nearby.

  ‘There can be no doubt about it then,’ Florence said miserably, half to herself. ‘I was hoping …’

  ‘I know, I was hoping I’d imagined this when I checked in here the first time.’

  Florence stared at the light-filled room, still containing most of John’s personal treasures, but somehow already lacking his warmth and personality.

  ‘We could try to pretend he’s away at boarding school, then maybe we won’t feel so miserable,’ Margery suggested, her eyebrows raised in a hopeful gesture.

  ‘We could,’ Florence agreed, putting her arm around Margery’s slim shoulders. She doubted there was anything she could do to persuade herself that John was only away for a short time, but if it helped Margery to feel better, then she wasn’t going to dissuade her.

  Florence stared around the room, at a loss for what to do next. Then, taking a deep breath, she decided that she was going to do her utmost to bring her son back to where he belonged. There had to be a way to persuade John to return home and she was determined to find it. Then she would somehow make John and his father learn to muddle along together. Other fathers and sons managed it, and there was no reason why the men in her house couldn’t do the same thing.