Mrs Boots: A heartwarming, page-turner inspired by the true story of Florence Boot, the woman behind Boots (Mrs Boots, Book 1)

by Deborah Carr

  ‘You come from the mainland and the Midlands at that,’ she said, hoping to show that she had paid attention to what he had been saying. ‘You’re a druggist; that is something unusual in itself. You also run factories and chemists. Not like the small chemist next to Rowe’s at number twenty-nine. It’s diverting for us to think about these things.’

  He seemed pleased at her interest. ‘I wanted to build up my business, because I believe that, the larger my business, the more I could buy in bulk and thereby afford to lower costs. I liked the idea of providing health for a shilling, because I believe the health of the poor man or woman is just as important as the health of someone with money.’

  His sentiments matched hers completely. How incredible must it feel to be able to develop then produce and sell medicines, and know that products you had made could save your customers’ lives. She struggled not to sound too in awe of him. ‘Your work is very commendable.’ She was painfully aware that she wasn’t vocalising her thoughts as well as she had intended.

  ‘You’re very kind to say so. Thank you.’

  ‘Do you produce all the medicines?’

  ‘No. I was lucky enough last year to be able to open shops in Lincoln and Sheffield and take on my first qualified pharmacist. He is young man, not much older than you, and a marvel who creates and dispenses new medicines to my customers.’

  ‘I envy him. To think he has the opportunity to work for a progressive man such as yourself.’ Thinking she might have been too forward and spoken out of turn, Florence reddened. ‘I didn’t mean to offend by what I said.’

  He patted her arm. ‘No, my dear. I’m fully aware you did not. Nor have you. I am intrigued, and secretly delighted that I am considered interesting to others. It’s not something I have ever presumed to be.’

  Mr Boot might be older than her, Florence decided, but, for all his success, he didn’t seem at all judgemental or priggish. She decided that if he asked her, she would agree to meet up with him again.

  ‘I read that the train line from St Helier to La Corbière was opened earlier this month. Do you think you might consider accompanying me to see the lighthouse there?’

  Florence wondered if he had been able to read her thoughts, then shrugged off the notion as nonsense. ‘I would like that very much,’ she admitted. ‘In fact, it’s been a few years since I went there myself.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, looking, she thought, rather pleased with himself for making the suggestion. ‘Then we shall have to rectify that. What day do you next have time away from work?’

  ‘Not until Thursday afternoon when we close half-day, I’m afraid.’ She wished she didn’t have to wait so long to spend more time with this interesting man who treated her as an equal despite her younger age and being a woman. ‘However, maybe my father might make an exception as you are on holiday, and let me have time off before then.’

  ‘I can ask him, if you think he will be more likely to agree?’

  She thought that was a splendid idea and said so, trying not to show how excited she was at the prospect, as they continued their stroll to the seafront.

  Florence was used to speaking her mind up to an acceptable limit, but for some reason she felt as if she was with a kindred spirit with this man. On the face of it they had very little in common – their ages were not similar, nor were their backgrounds – but there was something about him … something she liked very much.

  Chapter 4

  Later, as she lay back against her pillows in a quiet moment of solitude before being called for supper, Florence went over her day spent with Mr Boot. She had enjoyed herself in his company. She sighed happily, thinking of their next outing together. This time they would see the west of the island. For some reason she wanted him to love her homeland as much as she. She wasn’t sure exactly why this need was so great in her, but she felt almost panic to show him as much as possible before the time came for him to return to the mainland.

  She had never expected to meet a man with whom she felt this much at ease, or who intrigued her so much. She thought about the little he had told her about his work as a druggist. It all sounded fascinating. Florence loved her job and knowing that she made the Rowes’ customers lives that much happier through the books and art supplies that they sold to them was an added bonus.

  Maybe that was what connected them: their work. Hers catered for the customers’ spirits, their creative side, either by helping them escape in a novel, or providing them with books on how to make something, while Mr Boot’s business took care of their physical health. They were two sides of a coin that served the people living near them. The thought made her very happy.

  Amy knocked on her door and opened it before waiting to be given permission. ‘Father has asked that you come downstairs.’

  Florence glanced at her small mantel clock. It was one her grandmother had left to her and Amy, which her sister hadn’t wanted. ‘It’s earlier than usual tonight,’ she said, wishing she could be left a little while longer with her thoughts.

  ‘I have a feeling he and Mother wish to speak to you about something.’

  Her stomach contracted slightly. On her return she had asked that she be allowed tomorrow off from work to accompany Mr Boot to La Corbière, but having already taken today away from the shop, she couldn’t imagine her father would agree. She hoped he would though. Mr Boot only had one week left on the island and she wasn’t looking forward to returning to find entertainment without his refreshing banter.

  She checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed down her skirt. ‘I’ll be along directly,’ she said, wanting a moment to collect herself.

  Florence entered the small living room and was taken aback to see Mr Boot standing between her parents.

  ‘Oh, I …’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling on you so very soon after bidding you farewell this afternoon.’ He gave her a polite nod. ‘I was hoping to persuade Mr Rowe to allow you time away from the shop again tomorrow.’ He looked at her father, apologetically.

  Her father didn’t look as cross about the prospect as Florence would have assumed. In fact, she thought, he seemed to be rather pleased.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said, unable to hide her smile.

  ‘Mr Boot has advised me that he’s received a letter from home and must make plans to return to Nottingham a couple of days earlier than he had planned.’

  Her mood plummeting, Florence had to concentrate on not showing her disappointment. ‘Nothing is wrong with Jane, I hope, Mr Boot?’

  He shook her head. ‘No, Jane is well, I’m relieved to say. However, there is a business matter that needs my attention. My return has therefore had to be brought forward. Rather inconvenient, I’m afraid. It cannot, however, be helped.’

  ‘That is a shame,’ she said, not allowing herself to show her disappointment at hearing this news.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I have come today in the hope that we might take another outing tomorrow. If, of course, it’s not too soon after our busy day out today?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she said, without stopping to at least look as if she was considering his invitation. She gave her father an appealing smile. ‘Father? Would you mind me taking the day off from work?’

  Her father moved next to Florence and rested his right hand on her shoulder. ‘I have given Mr Boot permission to go out with you tomorrow.’

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. Her father must like Mr Boot very much to allow her another day off immediately after the one she took today. ‘Thank you, Father,’ she said, trying not to show her delight.

  ‘I have a fancy to see the new lighthouse at La Corbière.’

  Florence only vaguely heard him. She was too stunned by her father’s permission for another day off to truly take in what Mr Boot had said.

  He cleared his throat nervously when she didn’t answer straight away. ‘Only if you wish to accompany me, Miss Rowe. Please feel free to say if you’d rather not.’ He passed his leather gloves fro
m one hand to the other.

  Horrified to have given him the wrong idea, Florence shook her head. ‘Not at all, Mr Boot,’ she said, trying her best not to sound too enthusiastic. ‘I would very much like to accompany you to the lighthouse tomorrow. Thank you for asking me.’ Her mother had a particular abhorrence of women having an unladylike enthusiasm for anything, and found it extremely distasteful.

  She waited in the living room as her father showed Mr Boot to the door.

  Her mother didn’t appear happy at Florence agreeing to go on another outing with Mr Boot. She wasn’t sure why, so felt compelled to ask her.

  ‘Do you mind me accompanying Mr Boot on outings, Mother?’

  Florence followed her mother as she walked into the kitchen, pulling the straps of her apron carefully over her head and tying it around her waist. She clattered about in the kitchen, not needing words to convey her feelings.

  ‘Mother, is something the matter?’

  ‘Nothing is the matter,’ her father said, joining them. ‘Your mother probably would like some help with the supper, or a little peace to continue with its preparation.’

  ‘Peace would be my preferred choice,’ her mother snapped without turning to address them.

  Her father waved for her to follow him back to the living room. Florence shared her concerns.

  ‘Your mother has nothing against Mr Boot,’ he assured her as they sat opposite each other on the comfortable armchairs in front of the unlit fire. ‘How could anyone have an issue with such a pleasant man?’

  Florence couldn’t say. ‘Why then does she appear upset that I am to see him again? Is it something I’ve done?’ If it was, she had no idea what it could be.

  He leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘She likes Albert. I suspect your mother is anxious that your affections will gravitate from him to Mr Boot. After all, Mr Boot is quite a bit older than you and you must have noticed his occasional pain when he moved.’

  She had but couldn’t understand what that had to do with anything. He was kind, entertaining and very good company. Surely that was what she needed from a man, not worrying about his age or the fact that once in a while he suffered pain in his legs.

  ‘Albert and I are merely friends, Father,’ she explained. ‘I only let Mother think that we might end up courting, because it stops her fretting that I’ll end up being a lonely spinster. Although, I can’t imagine ever being lonely, and I have no issue with remaining a spinster, whatever Mother says.’ As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could recall them. She hated being rude to her parents and loved her mother, never intending to speak badly about her. ‘That is to say …’

  Her father rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t concern yourself. I don’t like to think of your mother being misled. However, for the time being or until you’ve had a chance to change your mind about Albert’s prospects as a husband, maybe allowing her to believe that you have a fondness for him is the best option. .’

  ‘You prefer Albert over Mr Boot, Father?’

  He considered her question for a moment. ‘I don’t believe it’s a case of liking one man more than the other. I am only concerned that you, as with your siblings, choose to be with someone who makes you happy, be it Albert or Mr Boot.’

  Florence was relieved to hear him say as much. Although she barely knew Mr Boot, she could not deny to herself that there was something appealing about him as well as his business ethics. Her disappointment at hearing about his earlier than anticipated return to Nottingham had given her quite a jolt. It made her realise that she was enjoying his company even more than she had ever supposed she might.

  Chapter 5

  Florence had spent the morning and previous evening planning how to make the best of her outing with Mr Boot. She was looking forward to spending time with him.

  She walked down Mulcaster Street towards the Pomme d’Or Hotel, wishing she had thought to pack less in the picnic hamper she had brought with her. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea of hers, she mused, moving the handle from her right to her left hand. It was far heavier than she had expected when she’d packed it up earlier. She didn’t even know what foods Mr Boot liked, or if he would be happy with the idea of a picnic.

  ‘I’m so stupid,’ she murmured to herself. If only she wasn’t using her mother’s hamper, then she could maybe leave it with someone and ask if she could collect it later.

  She wished she had a free hand to fan herself and hoped she wasn’t too hot by the time she met him. The last thing she wanted to do was arrive in a flustered state. That really wouldn’t do at all. She passed the entrance of the hotel and spotted him waiting for her outside the terminus building. He was looking up at the blue sky, and she followed his gaze, noting that there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

  Seeing her, he waved and began walking to her. As he neared, he called out to her. ‘Good day, Miss Rowe.’ He noticed the hamper and reached out to take it from her. ‘That looks rather heavy.’

  Relieved he had taken the weight from her hand, she checked her hair was in place and her hat straight. ‘Thank you. I hadn’t thought about carrying it here when I was packing up our lunch.’

  ‘I wished you had told me,’ he said as they began walking; ‘I would have collected you in a carriage. This really is far too heavy for a lady to carry.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she fibbed, not wishing him to think of her as weak. ‘I’m used to lifting boxes of books, don’t forget.’

  He smiled at her. ‘That’s as maybe, but there wasn’t a need for you to bring this hamper all this way, especially in this heat.’

  Florence laughed. ‘I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing when I was halfway here.’

  They reached the terminus entrance. ‘I’ve already purchased our tickets,’ he explained, patting his chest pocket. ‘The train is waiting for us to board.’

  Once seated on the train, the hamper on the floor next to Mr Boot’s feet, Florence relaxed slightly.

  ‘Thank you for bringing a picnic,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t know the last time I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy one.’

  This news made her happy. It had been worthwhile trudging down across town, after all. ‘I hope you like the food I’ve packed for us.’

  ‘I’m certain I will.’

  As the train took Florence and Mr Boot from West Park to First Tower she gazed out towards the sea, silvery from the brightness of the sun, relieved she had not suggested they get tickets to travel by charabanc. Florence had noticed Mr Boot wince as he took his seat and at least the motion of the train was gentle and level, compared to the bumps in the road that the charabanc would no doubt find as the wheels hit them.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I haven’t been to the west of the island yet. I’m told by Jane that it is more rugged than the east, with a long beach and Napoleonic forts dotted along the coastline.’

  ‘She remembers our outing in a charabanc,’ Florence laughed, recalling the fun day out they had with her friends. ‘There were about twenty of us altogether. We travelled in two charabancs and we enjoyed a picnic on the sand dunes.’

  Florence was glad that Jane had enjoyed her day enough to tell her brother all about it. They both obviously had fond memories of the day that had started out with the threat of rain. It had been so bad that there was a moment they weren’t certain they would be able to go. But the clouds had parted, and everything had turned out perfectly.

  ‘Is that the harbour where my boat docked?’ Mr Boot asked, peering towards the granite pier walls to the left of the bay past Elizabeth Castle.

  ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ she said, fanning herself with the pretty fan her sister Adelaide had bought her for her last birthday. She wondered if maybe she should suggest an outing to the castle on another day, unsure whether it would be easy enough for him to manage when the tide was low and the causeway there was exposed. Deciding not to say anything for now, she added. ‘The sea seems so still today, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does.’
Removing his hat, he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

  They fell into a companionable silence. Florence stole several glances at Mr Boot as he gazed out of the window at the seascape to the left of them. Fine lines ran from the sides of his eyes to the top of his cheeks. He seemed more relaxed even from the previous day and she was certain his visit to the island was having the desired effect on him.

  He must have sensed her looking at him and turned, smiling as he caught her eye.

  Shocked slightly to be caught out, her cheeks reddened.

  ‘Sorry, did you ask me something?’ he asked.

  She shook her head, relieved he had thought she had speaking to him. ‘Err, no. That is, yes. I was wondering if you find the island to your liking so far, Mr Boot?’

  ‘I do,’ he said, sitting back in his seat to face her better. ‘Very much. I don’t know if it’s the sea air or spending more time than I usually would outside in the sunshine, but I am certainly benefitting from being here.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Not wishing to seem forward, she added, ‘I wouldn’t want a visitor to the island going home without feeling that he, or she, had taken with them a true sense of well-being.’

  ‘You can be satisfied then to know that I am feeling better than I have done for many, many months.’

  She was glad to hear it. More than she expected to be. She smiled at him and they both gazed out of the window at the shimmering blue and silver view that the sea offered to them.

  They passed The Tin Hut at West Park, along to the stop at First Tower where several passengers alighted, and others replaced them. Then they slowed to pass another rail car at Millbrook Station.

  ‘It’s a little warm today, don’t you think?’

  She nodded, wishing she wasn’t wearing layers of fabric with her petticoats and cotton summer dress. ‘Maybe there’ll be more of a breeze when we reach La Corbière?’