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

  Work is, as always, busy, but satisfying. Last year I took on my first pharmacist, a Mr Edwin Waring. I had the idea to do this after a change in the law at the start of this decade that allowed limited companies to sell poisons and dispense prescription medicines. Mr Waring is a young man of 27 years and his hard work and vision has helped me make the move into the dispensing business for my company. With him at Goose Gate, we have halved the cost of prescription drugs and updated the packaging.

  As a retailer I am sure you can see that this has not made me very popular, but it has made medicines more affordable to the public and that, to me, is a vital necessity. My father believed that everyone deserves the best healthcare possible and it is something that I have continued to work towards since his, and now my mother’s, death. Customers should not receive preferential treatment simply because they have the means to pay more than others. My aim is that medical aid is available to all, no matter where they stand in society, or where they live in the country.

  My apologies. Again, I am discussing my work. Jane is always telling me that I need to step away on occasion and to at least try to focus on a life for myself. Talking of Jane, she came to my office to see me the other day and asked that I forward her best wishes to you and your family.

  Until next time,

  My very best wishes,

  Your friend,

  Jesse Boot

  Florence sighed and pressed the letter to her chest. He had been pleased for her, as she had known he would. How many other men did she know who would express any interest in her working day, let alone care that she had come up with an idea and be impressed that it had succeeded. How many people cared as much as he did about those he didn’t know? Jesse Boot was different, and very much someone with whom she wanted to keep contact.

  She heard footsteps and quickly folded Jesse’s letter and stuffed it with the envelope into her skirt pocket. She had enough time to open the trunk containing a delivery of coloured inks and stationery, and was lifting out a red leather writing folder when her father entered the storeroom.

  ‘What is taking you so long?’ He glanced at the paper in her hand. ‘Are these from the new firm we ordered from last week?’

  She nodded. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good, hand that to me and get a move on unpacking the rest. I need to step out for a while after this customer has left.’ He went to walk away then changing his mind, turned to face her. ‘Amy is still out on deliveries, so I will need you to cover the shop.’

  ‘Yes, Father. I won’t be long now.’

  Ten minutes later Florence watched her father put on his hat and walk out of the shop. It was a relief to have a moment to herself in between visits from customers to have time to absorb Jesse’s most recent letter.

  She was about to retrieve it from her pocket when she heard a commotion outside. A man’s voice yelling for someone named Lily to ‘come back here’ resonated along Queen Street. Aware that her father would like her to remain inside the shop, but unable to resist from looking, Florence walked around the counter to the shop door and opened it.

  She had barely peeked outside when she spotted a skinny young girl of about fourteen running as fast as her tatty shoes would allow her along the street from the direction of Snow Hill. Seeing Florence, she swerved and ducked inside the shop, stopping briefly to look around her before running breathlessly to the back of the shop and disappearing into the storeroom.

  Florence was stunned for a moment. She saw the terrified girl staring back at her from around the storeroom doorway, a silent plea from her large brown eyes unmistakeable. Florence put a finger up to her lips to indicate that the girl remain silent and closed the door quickly.

  ‘Lily! Where is that damn girl?’ she heard a man’s voice ask someone nearby.

  She stared out of the window and saw an elderly woman pointing in the direction of her shop. ‘Nasty woman,’ Florence mumbled, hearing a whimper from the storeroom. She didn’t want to alert the man who was now glowering in her direction. Carefully and without making it obvious, she didn’t look at the girl but barely moved her lips and whispered, ‘Shh, stay still.’

  He marched up to the door, his fists clenched. Florence’s heart pounded, although she felt sure it wasn’t pounding nearly as heavily as the young girl in her back room.

  He opened the door, glared at Florence and bellowed, ‘Lily, damn you, where are you?’

  Florence stood in front of him. She was tall and her father had often said that when she took a mind to it, she could scare those less brave than herself with one look.

  ‘How dare you enter my shop in such a fashion?’

  ‘It isn’t your shop, miss,’ he snarled, saliva shooting out between the gap in his front teeth. He seemed only slightly unnerved by her stance, she realised. He stepped to the side to look past her, but Florence moved in front of him once more.

  ‘It is my shop while my father is not here.’

  ‘I want my daughter back. Now.’

  She could see his fists clench and hoped it was simply to frighten her. The smell of drink hung around him, mingling with the unmistakeable stink of someone who had not washed for a long period of time.

  ‘Sir, I do not know your daughter, although I have to admit that I pity the poor girl. She is not here and if you do not vacate these premises immediately, I will call for the centenier.’ She knew that there would be a police constable or maybe one of the Honorary Police nearby who would soon assist her.

  ‘Is that right?’

  Albert slipped in behind the man and went to stand next to Florence. ‘Yes, and if he doesn’t come, I shall evict you from this shop myself.’

  Florence wasn’t sure how her skinny friend would manage such a thing against a drunken man twice his size.

  The girl’s father glanced from one to the other before opening his mouth to speak and being overcome by a coughing fit. They waited as he collected himself, wiping his mouth on the back of his mucky sleeve.

  ‘If she comes this way, you tell her to get ’erself ’ome. She’s got chores to be gettin’ on with.’

  ‘We will tell her, if we see her.’ Florence moved to stand next to the door, waiting next to it for him to leave. After another glance around the room, no doubt to satisfy himself that his unfortunate daughter wasn’t there, he grumbled something Florence couldn’t make out and left.

  Florence quickly closed the door behind him.

  The sound of the bell alerted the hiding girl to chance a peek out from behind the storeroom door. ‘Has … has he gone?’

  Florence peered out to the street, relieved to see the man ambling away back in the direction of the public house. ‘He has, for now. Stay there for a few more minutes in case he decides to come back and check for himself.’

  She turned to Albert. ‘Thank you for coming to help me.’

  He shook his head, his face pink from temper. ‘People like him infuriate me. He’s nothing more than a drunken bully.’

  Florence pulled a face at him to remind him that the man’s daughter was still with them. He might be a lout, but she was his daughter and it wouldn’t help her to hear them say things about the man that she would, no doubt, have to face at some point that day, or the next.

  Florence pretended to busy herself, checking every so often that the man wasn’t coming back.

  ‘I’d better return next door,’ Albert said. ‘Customers won’t be very happy with me if they can’t buy their favourite mix of tea.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said a timid voice from the back of the room. ‘My name is Lily.’

  Albert went to shake her hand. ‘I think we gathered as much,’ he said gently. ‘Will you be all right to go home?’

  She didn’t look very sure for a moment. ‘I’ll wait until I know he’s probably asleep. That’s what I usually do. He’ll have forgotten about this by tomorrow afternoon when he wakes.’

  It occurred to Florence how very lucky she was
to have a sober father and never to have to be concerned about being bullied by either of her parents. Her mother might have her own ideas about how she saw Florence’s future, but she only had her best interests at heart. She smiled at the skinny, frightened girl and wondered how long it had been since she had eaten.

  ‘Would you like something to eat or drink?’

  The door opened and the girl gasped before disappearing back into her hiding place.

  Amy strode in, looking from Albert to Florence. ‘I can tell I’ve missed something, but what?’

  ‘Albert was just leaving,’ Florence said. ‘Thank you, again.’

  He gave her a brief nod. ‘Amy, I’m sure your sister will tell you everything as soon as I’ve left.’

  The door closed behind him and Amy took off her hat, hanging it on the coat stand near the front of the shop. She patted her hair to check it was in place and opened her mouth to speak, stopping when she noticed movement in the storeroom.

  ‘Is someone in there?’ she asked, concerned.

  ‘It’s all right, Lily,’ Florence said quietly. ‘This is my sister Amy. You can come out now.’

  The girl did as she asked, her hands clasped together in front of her unkempt skirts.

  Amy forced a friendly smile, as Florence knew she would.

  ‘I’m sure Amy won’t mind looking after the shop while I run upstairs and fetch you something to eat and drink.’ She doubted the girl would have the confidence to follow her up to the flat and also wasn’t certain her mother would take kindly to her bringing in a stranger without warning.

  Lily looked nervously from one to the other of them. ‘Yes, please.’

  Amy walked over to the chair next to the counter and carried it to the back of the shop. ‘You can sit here and wait if you like while Florence goes upstairs. Then while I’m sorting through these books, you can tell me about what has happened to bring you here.’

  She glanced at Florence, her thin, pale face questioning whether or not to do as Amy asked.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,’ Florence said, smiling at her, trying to put her at her ease. ‘If you’d rather, you can look at some books, or our stationery. Don’t feel you have to stay seated. It’s up to you. Now, I won’t be long.’

  Upstairs, Florence explained to her mother what had happened. ‘I don’t know the last time she ate,’ Florence said, concerned for her. ‘The poor girl looks terribly thin and frightened. I hate seeing someone in such a state.’

  ‘Do you think she will come upstairs to eat?’ her mother asked, drying her hands on a towel. ‘It would be more comfortable for her and she would be less likely to be seen by one of the customers or passers-by who could alert her father to her whereabouts. We don’t want any further trouble when your father isn’t here to help us. The father could reappear with his friends, if he thinks we’re harbouring his daughter.’

  Florence hadn’t considered such a thing, but it troubled her. ‘I’ll go downstairs and invite her up here then.’

  Florence hurried back downstairs and explained her mother’s thoughts. ‘My mother believes you would be safer and more comfortable upstairs in our living room. Then you can eat in peace. What do you think?’

  Florence could see that what she had said about the girl’s father coming back had unnerved her. ‘Yes, I think I would rather be upstairs, for now. Me Dad is probably lookin’ for me in The Exeter,’ she said, referring to the public house across the street. ‘I ran in there once before, but they’ll soon chuck him out again. He’s been banned from there for a long time.’

  ‘Good,’ Florence said, leading the way. ‘Follow me.’

  Florence settled Lily with her mother and hurried back to the shop to Amy. She wasn’t certain that her father would take kindly to her bringing in trouble to his shop and didn’t want to upset him.

  She explained to Amy what had happened, knowing that her sister would have done the same in helping Lily to escape her father’s drunken abuse. But Florence was aware that many simply turned their heads, not wishing to sour their day with unpleasantries. However, when she watched Lily, what she saw was a girl living on her wits. Whereas she and her sister’s worst problem was what to wear, or in her case, whether her father had given her the same opportunity he would if she had been a boy, Lily had to contend with the humiliation of others knowing that her father was a drunken lout.

  The contrast in their lives was vast and the thought of it almost brought Florence to tears. It occurred to her that it was only a matter of luck that she had been born into the Rowe family, where pleasing unpleasant customers was something she dealt with several times a week; in comparison Lily was alert to avoiding beatings from her father

  ‘I’m not certain how we’re to smuggle her out of here without her father or indeed one of his cronies spotting her?’ She straightened a couple of books thoughtfully. ‘She seems to think that if she can get away from him and wait for him to go home and sleep off his drink, then he’ll have forgotten he was angry with her by tomorrow.’

  Amy tutted. ‘I’ve just noticed two men talking together across the road after stopping to stare at our shop. Maybe they’re friends of Lily’s father?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Florence said, concerned by what Amy had just told her. ‘I only met him briefly, but I did pick up that he doesn’t seem the sort of man to let someone get the better of him. Even though I insisted she hadn’t come into the shop, that probably hasn’t fooled him.’

  Florence walked up to the window to see if the men were still lurking nearby. She spotted two men, now talking to a third and hoped they weren’t the ones that Amy had been referring to. ‘We need to find a way for her to leave the shop without them noticing her. We could try out the back.’

  Amy looked at her doubtfully. ‘If they’re that intent on catching her when she leaves, they’ll probably have someone keeping watch out the back of the shop, too.’

  ‘Yes, more than likely,’ Florence said, disheartened and wondering if maybe her helping Lily had made things much worse for the girl.

  Poor Lily, having to live in such a way. ‘It makes you think how lucky we are to have a father who has never drunk alcohol; how very different our lived are to hers,’ Florence said. ‘And being a Wesleyan, Jesse will also not drink, like Father.’ She heard her sister giggle and realised she had spoken her thoughts about Jesse aloud.

  ‘Jesse, is it now? When did you progress from calling Mr Boot by his first name?’ Her sister’s eyes glistened with amusement.

  Florence was annoyed at her slip, but knew Amy was only teasing. ‘We’ve been corresponding since his return to the mainland.’

  ‘I had noticed.’

  She was about to explain their friendship, then decided that if she wanted to continue with her friendship with Jesse then she would and without any apologies for how it progressed to her family, or anyone else.

  ‘More importantly, what are we going to do to help young Lily now?’ Florence asked, concerned for the girl. She had witnessed other men bullying and on occasion slapping their female companions. It had always horrified her to see such things. She might not be able to help all the woman living nearby who survived difficult circumstances, but she was going to help Lily if she possibly could.

  Maybe one day, she mused, she might even be in a position to help women on a large scale. The thought warmed her. She was unsure how, but it was something to which she intended giving thought. If Jesse’s father had that ambition years before and Jesse was still working hard to assist those with less than himself now, then there was no reason for her not to find a way to do her bit to make a different to those less fortunate than she.

  Amy took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure.’

  The bell jangled and they both gasped as they turned to see who it was. Florence stared at the man standing in the doorway, smiling at her. Relieved it wasn’t one of Lily’s dad’s cronies come to cause them trouble, it took her a few seconds to register that Jesse was standing
there, waiting for her to acknowledge his arrival.

  ‘Jesse?’ she said, stunned. ‘You’re here?’

  Amy laughed and walked up to him, welcoming him inside. ‘I think that’s plainly obvious, Florence. Good day, Mr Boot. How wonderful to see you again on our island.’

  He touched the rim of his hat and gave her a brief nod. ‘I am very pleased to be able to revisit you all sooner than I had anticipated.’

  His smile faltered and he asked, ‘Is there something the matter, may I ask? I did look into the shop briefly before entering and you both seemed involved in a very serious conversation.’

  It dawned on Florence that Jesse’s unexpected arrival was exciting in more ways than the obvious. She indicated the chair and asked him to take a seat. ‘We have a problem that you might be able to help us find a solution for.’

  He looked intrigued and took a seat. ‘If there is anything that I might do to help you two ladies, then it will be my pleasure to do so. Please, tell me how I may be of assistance to you.’

  Florence quietly and quickly told him all about Lily and what had happened to her earlier. ‘So, you see, she needs to be helped to leave the shop, but we can’t fathom out how.’

  ‘And she is upstairs with Mrs Rowe now?’

  The women nodded.

  He stood up. Florence noticed him wince, but he covered it up almost as soon as he did it. ‘I have the perfect solution,’ he said, making her heart soar in more ways than one. ‘I have a carriage waiting for me a little down the street. I shall go now and ask him to draw up next to the shop, while you go and fetch Lily. I can then take her to wherever it is that she feels she’ll be safest while she waits for her father to sober up. At least then she will be away from him and his friends until that happens. I doubt that they will dare interfere with a horse and carriage with a driver and male passenger. These men are usually cowards.’

  It was a brilliant idea and Florence was delighted that Jesse had come to their rescue.

  ‘I’ll go and speak to Lily and bring her down,’ Amy said. ‘You keep a look out here, Florence, while Mr Boot arranges for the carriage to pull up outside.’