The Lady of Pelham Street

by Deborah Carr

  Now though, as they ate their meal, Jesse seemed thoughtful.

  ‘A couple of days ago, Dorothy came to me with an article in a newspaper,’ Jesse announced, making all of them look across the table at him.

  Florence caught Dorothy’s eye and looked at her questioningly. She wondered what the article could have been about, but knew she didn’t need to ask as Jesse was obviously about to tell them. ‘Go on,’ she said.’

  ‘Do you want to tell them what it was, Dorothy?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No, Father, you’ll explain it better than I can. You tell them.’

  Jesse gazed at their eldest daughter proudly. Florence hoped that he would look at John in the same way one day, but maybe the issue between Jesse and his son was that they were both men, with a natural instinct to want to take charge.

  ‘As you know, Florence, I’ve been hoping for our personal funds to increase so that we can take on board larger philanthropic projects and do something to help the welfare of the working class somehow.’ Florence nodded. It was the subject that had been closest to both their hearts for many years now and they were frustrated that most of their money was tied up in the business.

  ‘I had been thinking about what to do with the extra funds that I should have at my disposal next year. My lawyers are confident that we will be able to free money for new projects,’ Jesse continued. ‘Then, when I read the article that Dorothy handed to me about Miss Florence Nightingale becoming the first woman to receive the Order of Merit, I thought it the perfect opportunity for me to do something constructive.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ Florence said, intrigued. She was always pleased when a woman received acknowledgement for hard work and in Florence Nightingale’s case, she thought her very deserving of the recognition. ‘Yes, I do. I believe people should be acknowledged for their hard work.’

  Florence continued eating her roast chicken. So often it was men who received awards for their work. Women, as she knew only too well, had to work harder than men to be noticed and if they weren’t fighting for the right to carry out their work, they were having to fit it in with social expectations and, more often than not, a family’s needs. She wondered if women would ever be considered equal to men. She doubted it. She realised Jesse was speaking and turned her attention to him.

  ‘Reading this feature gave me an idea,’ Jesse explained, and waited expectantly for her reply.

  Jesse’s ideas always meant a lot of hard work, for him especially but also for her, and Florence was immediately intrigued to discover his latest plans. ‘Go on. Tell us about your idea.’

  ‘Thinking about her fame stemming from everything she achieved during the Crimean War, I began to wonder about the veterans who fought in the Indian Mutiny and more recently in the Boer War. There must be many injured men who can’t provide for their families as they could once do.’ Jesse sighed. ‘I want to build almshouses.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Homes for army veterans who’ve given the best part of their lives and themselves to protecting the Empire, and also their wives, who probably now have to care for their husbands.’ He placed his knife and fork down on his plate, his food only half finished, and looked at Florence for her reaction.

  As Jesse had been speaking, she pictured some of the veterans that she saw in the streets of Nottingham. He was right; this was a marvellous idea. She couldn’t help wishing Jesse would learn to take things easier and accommodate his own disabilities, but how could she expect him not to carry out this project now that he had thought of it? It would be wicked to try to change his mind and deny these deserving families much needed homes.

  ‘I think it’s a marvellous idea.’

  ‘I thought I’d name the new homes in your honour, Dorothy.’

  ‘Mine?’ Dorothy looked confused at the notion.

  ‘Yes, you were the one to show me the feature that gave me the idea. So they’ll be known as The Dorothy Boot Homes.’

  Dorothy and Margery gasped.

  ‘Oh, you lucky beast,’ Margery said with a scowl.

  ‘Now, now, Margery,’ Florence said quickly, desperate to defuse any jealousy between her daughters. She could see Margery was put out by Jesse’s intention. ‘I’m sure your father will think of something for you at some point.’

  Dorothy threw her napkin onto the table, pushed back her chair, and ran to her father, wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you very much, Father. That’s jolly exciting.’

  Florence mouthed for Margery to stop sulking.

  Dorothy returned to her seat at the table, her pretty face beaming with joy at her father’s announcement.

  Jesse turned his attention to Florence. ‘So, my dear, what do you think?’

  Florence thought it was an excellent idea. She swallowed the lump in her throat, delighted that Dorothy was to have a project named in her honour.

  ‘How kind you are to think of this, Jesse.’ She smiled proudly at him. ‘I think you should definitely go ahead.’

  ‘Where will you build these homes, Father?’ Margery asked, cheering up at the excitement around the table.

  ‘I bet I know,’ John said.

  ‘Go on then, where?’ Jesse rubbed his right knee a couple of times. Florence could see he was in pain and decided that as soon as supper was over she would check he had taken his latest dose of painkillers.

  John finished a last mouthful and placed his knife and fork neatly on his plate. ‘I thought that land you have in Wilford would be perfect for the project. Don’t you think?’

  Florence was impressed. She agreed with John’s suggestion and tried to picture new buildings on the land near to their home Plaisaunce. ‘I think that sounds like the perfect location.’

  Jesse raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed with John’s idea. ‘That’s exactly where I was thinking about. Well done.’

  He seemed surprised and Florence was relieved to see them both agreeing so easily on something. Maybe the way forward with them both working at Boots wasn’t going to be as difficult as she had expected. It gave her hope that everything would work out well.

  ‘You’ve given this a lot of thought already, haven’t you?’ Florence said, smiling at Jesse. ‘How many properties do you think you’ll build?’

  ‘I was thinking about ten, or twelve, but I’d need to see some architectural drawings first to be certain how many can comfortably fit on the land.’

  It was just like Jesse to be thoughtful. She loved the enthusiasm in his voice whenever he began planning a new project; it seemed to instil a new lease of energy into his weary body. The one thing about Jesse that she loved above all else was that he always found his best inspiration when trying to help others.

  Intrigued by the thought of the houses, Florence was looking forward to hearing more about Jesse’s plans. ‘When you say comfort, what exactly did you have in mind?’ she asked, aware that although this was a recent idea, Jesse would have wasted little time in making plans either on paper or in his head. He always knew exactly what he wanted and rarely took long to make a decision. It was why, she imagined, he had achieved so much in his life.

  ‘Things like heating, and I thought each must have a bath. I know how much a bath soothes my poor body and these veterans will all have some sort of injury to have to cope with.’ Florence opened her mouth to speak, but before she managed to, Jesse continued. ‘And free medical help, whenever required.’

  ‘And a garden,’ shouted Dorothy.

  ‘What about a clubroom?’ John suggested.

  ‘Yes, those things, too.’ Jesse beamed at them all in turn.

  Florence took his hand in hers. ‘You are the kindest man I’ve ever known, Jesse Boot, and this is a brilliant idea. I look forward to seeing the plans when you’ve had them drawn up.’ She studied him silently for a moment.

  ‘What?’ he laughed.

  ‘You’ve already written to an architect about this, haven’t you? Go on, admit it.’

  Jesse threw
his head back and guffawed loudly. ‘You know me far too well, my dear. I have to admit that I did dictate a brief letter to Miss Tweed before leaving for home this evening.’

  Florence was not at all surprised.

  Chapter 34

  June 1908

  Florence sat in her office watching Agnes Tweed leave the room, a pile of papers balanced on one hand. It had been a busy year since John’s return from Canada. Florence pictured her nineteen-year-old son standing in his Territorial Army uniform and how proud he had been to be gazetted as a Lieutenant. She was thankful that this interest kept him busy during non-working hours. The thought of him looking for something more fulfilling and setting off once again to the other side of the world worried her. But he seemed happy now and that was all that mattered. John had been working for Jesse for almost eleven months now and rarely complained about his job to her.

  John worked hard and did his best to take some of the pressure off Jesse, but Florence knew that her husband hadn’t made life easy for John where work was concerned. When she confronted him about it, Jesse had been insulted and insisted that he didn’t want any of his managers thinking that he was guilty of nepotism. She understood what he was aiming to do and hoped that by her mentioning her concerns to him about his attitude to John, maybe Jesse would ease up on their son a little.

  Dorothy was now eighteen and had delighted Jesse by going to visit him at his office and requesting a position in the business. Florence had hoped that Jesse might offer her something in one of the stores, but he had asked Florence to find Dorothy a position at the Island Street factory. Florence had been relieved when her daughter had shown herself to be a diligent and popular member of the Dry Packed Goods department. She had visited the department on several occasions and always found her daughter working hard and seemingly enjoying her time at the factory.

  Now all she needed to do was to persuade Margery that she might want to become involved in some way with Boots.

  Florence rested her chin on her clasped hands. Her relief at her children’s participation in the business had been counteracted by her mother’s devastation, and her own, at her father’s death earlier that year. While they both knew he had been rather unwell neither they nor the other siblings had expected his illness to take his life. Her father’s passing made Florence concerned for Jesse. He was now fifty-eight and his mobility was decreasing by the month. It hadn’t stopped him wanting to grow the business though and take over the Gas Works in Nottingham and work hard to finalise the Dorothy Boot Homes project.

  She hadn’t noticed Miss Tweed coming back in to her office and realised she was speaking to her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’

  ‘I can come back later, if you’re busy,’ Miss Tweed offered.

  ‘No, please carry on. I’m afraid I’m still a little weary from the upset of my father’s recent passing and all the travelling back and forth to Jersey that I’ve had to make. I do appreciate your help with these arrangements.’ It had been hard work for both of them. ‘Did I mention that my mother’s coming to stay for a few weeks? My sister Amy is travelling over with her for a holiday.’

  ‘That will be something to look forward to, I’m sure,’ Miss Tweed said, her usual cheerfulness returning to her face.

  Florence had been thinking that now her mother and sister didn’t need to work in the shop they could do with some time to enjoy St Heliers and the beautiful restful gardens. Her mother always enjoyed having a household of people to look after her and ensure that her every whim was catered to. Florence was also planning to take them to Plaisaunce for a few weekends while they were staying.

  ‘The children must be excited to have their grandmother and aunt to come and stay?’

  ‘They are,’ Florence admitted. She was grateful to have such a close family and after the less than perfect start to her mother’s relationship with Jesse, Florence enjoyed seeing them spending time together in the garden chatting and getting along famously.

  Florence was happy to focus on work. Every time she thought about her mother, her mind would then whirl back to some memory of her working with Florence’s father in his shop. She missed him. Most of the time Florence was relieved to be able to pretend that he was simply back in Jersey. However, when her mother was staying with her and Jesse, Florence was unable to keep thoughts of her father at bay. It was especially difficult when at least several times each day her mother mentioned him, which, Florence knew, was only to be expected.

  Florence couldn’t help thinking back to when she was a young mother fighting against social expectations of how the wife of an up-and-coming entrepreneur should remain at home and care for her new baby. She had expected some people to look down on her for making the decision to continue working, and especially because she insisted on taking John to work with her. However, she naively hadn’t expected the worst offenders to be women. Maybe they were voicing the concerns of their husbands, but she doubted it.

  If Florence hadn’t realised what a devoted husband he would be when she married him, she certainly had done when he backed her decision to continue working and not retire from the business. They might have had many disagreements during their marriage, but he had allowed her to do as she wanted when it came to work. Probably, she thought, because work was so important to him. Still though, most men only thought about life from their own perspective.

  Florence was surprised that so little had changed where women’s welfare was concerned, including the traditional expectations of them as married women and mothers. She thought back to how stretched she had felt at times, trying to care for her children while running a household and keeping on top of everything at work.

  Would she have made different choices back then if she had known how much of a struggle it would initially be to juggle motherhood with working long hours next to Jesse? Probably. Should she have spent more time with her children when they were growing up? Maybe, Florence mused. But she also knew that, unlike so many other women she had met over the years, she had always felt fulfilled as a mother, as a wife, but mostly as a woman. No. She didn’t have any regrets. None as far as her life was concerned anyway. She did wish that she could have helped more women, but she was still only forty-five and had plenty of time to find ways to help make other women’s lives better.

  Florence arrived home later that day and quickly changed out of her work clothes and into a lighter dress to go and find her mother and sister. She spotted them sitting under a large sunshade at the side of the house. Her mother had her eyes closed and Amy was reading a book, as she always did when she had any time by herself.

  Florence strolled over to them and took a seat next to Amy. ‘Enjoying yourself?’ she asked quietly, not wishing to disturb her mother.

  Amy placed her cloth bookmark in between the pages, closed her book, and placed it on the table next to her. ‘Mr Meadows brought this jug of orange juice out to us only a few minutes ago, so it’s still cool. Shall I pour you a glass?’

  Florence could see that her mother’s glass hadn’t yet been used and presumed that she must have been dozing for a while. ‘Yes, please. I am rather thirsty; it’s been a long tiring day at work today. It’s a little hotter out here than I had realised. How is she doing?’ she asked indicating her mother with a nod.

  ‘I think Mother’s feeling a little better today,’ Amy whispered. ‘It was definitely a good idea of yours for her to come here to stay here with you. She needed to get away from everything that reminded her of Father, even if she didn’t think so.’

  Florence was relieved. Her mother hadn’t wanted to leave Jersey initially and insisted all her friends and everything that was familiar to her were there. Jesse had suggested that she simply come to Nottingham for a holiday and take it from there. There had been no mention of her wishing to return home to the island since her arrival, and that pleased Florence very much.

  She and her mother had always been close and it was only when Jesse and Florence had become close tha
t the distance between them had come about. Now, though, they were good friends. After all, thought Florence, how could her mother still be unsure of Jesse’s ability to give her daughter a good life? Hadn’t he proved himself time and time again since they married twenty-two years before? Florence believed it was her turn to care for her mother at this later stage in her life, and she had more than enough space to do that at St Heliers. She also had enough servants to enable her mother to do as she liked without feeling as if she was troubling Florence or Jesse in any way.

  ‘Where are the children today?’ Amy asked.

  ‘John is still at work and will be going straight to meet his Territorial pals afterwards,’ Florence said before taking a sip of her sweet drink. ‘Dorothy will be working until later, too, and Margery is out with friends for the day. The girls will be back later for supper though.’

  ‘You must be so proud of them, Florence. I know that if I had been lucky enough to have children I would want them to be just like yours.’

  A lump formed in Florence’s throat and she swallowed it away. She would have loved to see her younger sister with a family, too. ‘You’ve been happy though, haven’t you?’ she asked, having always believed Amy when she had insisted that she enjoyed being an independent woman.

  Amy gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You know I have. I also think that if you hadn’t met Jesse then you would never have married either. You still would have been happy though because you’d have done the things you chose to do. You’re just luckier than most woman, Florence, in that your husband not only allows you to do all that fulfils you, but he encourages all your endeavours.’

  ‘Well, most of them,’ Florence said with a laugh. ‘Don’t think there aren’t times when we have to battle out our opposing ideas.’ Her sister was right though; she would always have worked whether she was married or not. It was good to know that if she had her time again, she would almost certainly make the same decisions.

  They heard movement and noticed their mother rubbing her eyes and looking a little bemused as she sat up straighter in her chair.