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

  He narrowed his eyes, staring at them for a few seconds. ‘I’m happy to go and introduce myself, if you think I should,’ he suggested.

  ‘No. They’ll only make up what they want to anyway.’

  ‘Fine. Then I suggest we ignore them.’

  Florence smiled. She liked his way of thinking. ‘Good idea,’ she agreed. ‘There are probably others here who will recognise me, either from chapel or the shop. They might also be wondering what I’m doing spending time taking tea with a stranger.’

  He took a drink from his cup before replacing it onto the saucer. ‘But I’m not a stranger, am I?’

  ‘No,’ she said, relieved that this was the case. ‘You are not.’

  They ate the rest of their sandwiches, passing the time in light conversation. The waiters came and removed their plates, replacing them with fresh crockery and holding a cake stand for them to choose what they would like to eat next. Cakes chosen; Jesse waited for them to leave.

  ‘Do you think your father will allow you time away from the shop to come out with me somewhere tomorrow?’

  Florence, delighted to have already had the conversation with her father, smiled. ‘Yes, I believe he would. Where would you like us to go?’

  Chapter 10

  ‘I was thinking of seeing another part of the island. Maybe somewhere on the north coast? Jane often recalled how she had enjoyed her train journeys there.’

  ‘I’m afraid the trains only go east or west,’ Florence said, concerned that she needed to ensure the journey wasn’t too arduous for him. ‘We could go by charabanc though. That wouldn’t be as comfortable as the train, but they are fairly quick and only slightly less comfortable.’

  A shadow passed across his face. It was brief but unmistakeable. For a moment Florence thought she had upset him, and it worried her. He was a proud man and she imagined that the thought of her trying to rearrange their day to accommodate any health issues he might be dealing with was not something he would accept kindly. He had never mentioned anything about his condition, but she had noticed him covering a grimace when the pain took him unexpectedly.

  As quickly as the shadow had appeared, it vanished like a mist she was certain she had seen, but couldn’t otherwise prove. He smiled at her, although it didn’t reach his hazel eyes and she saw a sadness there that she had never noticed before.

  ‘Florence,’ he said lowering his voice, ‘I am older than you and I have my—’ he hesitated, staring at her thoughtfully ‘—crosses to bear, but I hope that you would never change anything about yourself, or your plans, because of me.’

  Unsure of his meaning, she hesitated. Keeping her voice low so the next table could not hear, she said, ‘You are a strong man, Jesse. You have a dream to make the lives of others better in all ways, like your father did before you. You are working hard to achieve that and so much more. I feel certain that you will do all that you set out to do. But—’ she hesitated, uncertain whether to continue. She was either going to become a closer friend to him by what she was about to say or ruin any closeness they had. But if she acted the part of a timid lady now, then that would set the scene for their future, whatever that might end up being.

  No, she had to be true to herself. Jesse had liked her character enough so far to want to take time out of his busy schedule running his businesses to see her, and she owed him the honesty to show her true self.

  She felt the intensity of his gaze on her and forced herself to continue. ‘You are not infallible and need to know your limitations. We all do. I, as a woman, am reminded of mine constantly, by my parents, my friends and societies parameters. You don’t have the same barriers to overcome because you are a man. Your—’ she struggled to find the right word.

  ‘Continue, please,’ he said, his eyes softening.

  She took his gentle tone not as one of suppressed anger that someone trying to trick her into saying her piece might use, only for them to then use it to end a friendship, but of someone wanting to honestly know her thoughts.

  Buoyed by this, she added. ‘Well, your own restrictions. We each have them, just in different ways and some are more obstructive than others.’

  He considered her words silently, their tea and cakes forgotten in the heaviness of their conversation. After a moment’s thought, he smiled. ‘My dear Florence, you are correct in what you say. I like to hide my – what was the word you used? – limitations, even from myself. I am never used to hearing about them from anyone else.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, you are the only person who has had the courage to mention them to my face.’

  ‘I don’t mean to offend you, just be open with you.’

  ‘I see that, and I am touched that you care enough about me to be honest with me.’

  Florence sighed heavily. ‘Do you really not mind me saying such things?’ She thought he was being honest, but really, how well did she know this man? she wondered.

  ‘Yes.’ He shrugged and took a drink from his cup. ‘It is not something I wish to discuss on a daily, or even monthly, basis.’ He gave her a smile that this time did reach his eyes and softened his words further. ‘I feel that in you I have met a very decent soul. You are a strong, kind woman, Florence. An independent thinker who doesn’t let other people’s reservations stand in your way. I don’t believe you are aware of how refreshing you are to others. To me.’

  It took a few seconds for her to process what he was saying to her. She had never been given such high praise before. Mostly her life had consisted of her parents doing their best to ensure that she kept her opinions to herself. They worried that she was too assertive and ready to follow her own independent thoughts. Their constant reminders to ensure she be seen and not heard had resounded through Florence’s life. It had made her very aware that she was expected to repress her opinions – not that she succeeded in doing so very often.

  Jesse Boot, however, was sitting opposite her and telling her that she was refreshing. She couldn’t help but smile. He had not taken what she tried very clumsily to say to him in the wrong way. In fact, she realised, he was complimenting her on her character and all the things that her parents had tried to suppress in her. This man really was someone she could see being in her future. They suited each other very well; she felt certain of it.

  He cleared his throat quietly. ‘Through you I have discovered that although working hard to achieve the dreams my parents and I have been aiming for is a good thing, there is also far more to life than work and ambition alone.’

  Hearing him saying these things made her happier than she had ever felt before. He was a man who had achieved so much and someone she admired greatly. For him to think of her in such a way was remarkable. Florence took a steadying, calming breath, determined not to make a fool of herself by over-reacting. She listened, awestruck, as he continued.

  ‘You have shown me that taking time to experience life is also vital to one’s health and well-being; to enjoy the pleasures that travel, sunshine, friendship and quiet moments of reflection by the sea offer. There is a value to knowing that these things are as important as spending hours inside an office, or factory walls, nursing an ambition.’

  She was unable to hide her happiness from him any longer, nor did she want to. Wasn’t it this joie de vivre that he liked so much? Florence wiped away a stray tear with the back of her lace-covered hand.

  ‘Thank you, Jesse. I have to admit that it makes me happy to think that I have added so much to your life,’ she said, feeling more satisfied with her existence than ever before. ‘You, too, have brought much joy to mine.’ She took a moment to assemble her thoughts.

  ‘Becoming friends with you and our time spent together has taught me much about myself. I am ambitious,’ she said, keeping her voice low, so as not to sound vulgar to anyone nearby, ‘which for a woman is not often something that is encouraged, or indeed praised. You, however, don’t see my dreams for my future as a bad thing, nor do you have issue with my independent ways, as my mother likes to refer to them. That is
refreshing to me. A precious commodity,’ she added as it occurred to her how much she valued his approval and encouragement of her.

  Buoyed by his smile, she continued, ‘My earliest recollections are in shops. Mostly I remember toddling round the counters at my father’s side and watching him at work. He always told me, and still does, that all labour is dignified and that to be courteous and obliging is a great asset in the business world.’

  ‘I agree with him,’ Jesse said, nodding.

  ‘As do I. He also believes that working in a shop ought to be a high calling and thought of in that way by others.’ She smiled. ‘I’m proud to do the work that I do.’

  ‘Good. It is a job that provides much to others in many ways.’

  Satisfied with their continued agreement about how they saw their business lives, Florence realised her mouth was becoming dry after so much talking. She picked up her teacup and finished the cooling liquid. She placed the fine bone china cup back onto its saucer.

  Jesse looked thoughtful and didn’t speak for a moment.

  ‘I don’t wish to offend your father by keeping you out too late,’ he said, standing and walking around to behind her chair and pulling it back as she rose. ‘I’ll see you home and speak to your father properly about tomorrow.’

  She was disappointed that their afternoon was coming to an end. Their time together had flown by and she could have happily stayed there with him for several more hours. However, like Jesse, she had no wish to annoy her father by arriving home late. She stood up and walked with him slowly, making their way through the town to Queen Street. Florence couldn’t help thinking how natural it felt to be in Jesse’s company. She could not deny he was more mature than her friends, both in age and behaviour, but whereas she had enjoyed their company, she couldn’t help feeling that she was meant to be with someone like Jesse. They even shared similar ambitions and he didn’t seem as if he would feel threatened by her independent ways, not like she expected most men would be.

  He might be older than her, but he was refreshing in so many different ways. He had proved his kindness too, by going out of his way to help her and Amy rescue Lily, forgetting his own plans. He didn’t know Lily at all. In fact, despite the girl being nothing to him, he had still helped her without a second’s thought.

  ‘Penny for them,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts.

  Florence laughed. ‘I’m not sure I want to share them.’

  ‘Then shall I share mine with you?’

  She resisted from replying instantly, not wanting to sound too forward. ‘If you wish to,’ she said, giving him a smile. ‘I suppose, as we’re walking together, I won’t have much choice but to hear them anyway.’

  ‘I suspect you are teasing me, Miss Rowe,’ he said, laughing. ‘And so I shall share them with you.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I was thinking that maybe I should ask your parents if they wish to come out tomorrow. I assume Amy will be needed to run the shop, if you and your father are absent. What do you think?’

  Think? She was confused and not a little disappointed. Hadn’t he asked her to accompany him out tomorrow? She hadn’t thought that he had also been meaning to invite her parents. She battled with her emotions momentarily before being able to speak without exposing her true feelings.

  ‘I’m sure they would be happy to accept,’ she was finally able to say.

  They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Acquaintances of her parents stopped to wish her a good day. She could tell that they were really interested in being introduced to Jesse because when she mentioned his name, neither the husband or wife reacted, apart from the husband shaking his hand and asking how his businesses were doing in Nottingham.

  They walked on and Jesse said, ‘I presume they already knew who I was when they stopped to say hello to you?’

  ‘It would seem so,’ she said, glad of the change of subject. ‘This is a small island and in this town most of the people know each other’s business. Us having tea together this afternoon will be the talk at quite a few dining room tables tonight, I think.’

  As they walked up King Street, Jesse slowed his walking even further. ‘You don’t mind me asking your parents to join us tomorrow, do you?’

  Shocked that he should ask her opinion, she couldn’t think what to reply. Then she remembered that this was Jesse, the man who enjoyed hearing her opinion. She was about to answer him honestly and tell him that she would rather that they didn’t have company for their next time out together, then realised how forward that would be. And not very ladylike.

  She took a moment to process her thoughts. She wished she could admit to Jesse that she wanted him all to herself. They had so little time to spend together before he must return to his life in Nottingham, and she would rather not have to share his presence with her parents.

  Aware that she could not possibly act in such a blatant way, she simply said, ‘I’m certain my father will be delighted to receive your invitation, as will my mother.’

  *

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ her father said, having greeted Jesse and welcomed him into the flat. Her mother said hello and then went to continue with whatever she had been doing in her room.

  Florence remained standing and waited for Jesse to speak to her father about the following day’s proposed outing. The room was filled with the scent of lilies that her mother had probably bought at the Central Market earlier in the day. She loved to have flowers to brighten up their sunny living room and each week there was a new display in one of her crystal vases.

  Florence gripped the top of her mother’s empty armchair and waited while her father mulled over the invitation.

  ‘Mrs Rowe and I would have liked to join you, very much,’ her father said sombrely. ‘However, we are both already committed to appointments that we will be unable to break.’

  ‘I understand,’ Jesse said apologetically. ‘I should not have asked. I’m aware it is very late notice to offer an invitation to you both.’

  ‘Not at all,’ her father said, shaking his head. ‘We appreciate you doing so.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You are joining us at church on Sunday, aren’t you?’ Jesse nodded. ‘Then, why not come for lunch here with us. We would love to have you here?’

  ‘That would be delightful,’ Jesse said, glancing briefly at Florence.

  She would rather go out somewhere, but to know he would be coming to their home to take part in their family meal was something to look forward to and she would just have to wait until then to see him.

  ‘I have no issue with you going out with Florence again tomorrow though,’ he said, his voice quieter.

  Florence suspected it was because he didn’t want her mother to know about the outing until a little later. She presumed that he would then spend time persuading her mother that it was fine for him to have given his permission.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Rowe. Florence has been very kind taking the time from her work to show me your beautiful island. I appreciate you giving her the time off.’

  ‘As do I, Father,’ Florence said, slightly stunned to have more time off. Her father must really like Jesse, she decided, relieved. It helped to know he wasn’t against them becoming friends, especially when her mother had reservations about them spending time together.

  Her father offered Jesse a cup of tea, but he refused politely. ‘I really ought to leave you good people in peace. I feel I’ve taken up a lot of your time lately and should be on my way.’

  ‘Not at all,’ her father argued. ‘It has been enjoyable meeting and getting to know you, Mr Boot.’

  ‘Please, I believe we are friends and I would be delighted if you would agree to call me Jesse.’

  Her father beamed. ‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said. ‘And you must address us as William and Margaret.’

  Florence couldn’t help smiling at her father’s pleasure in Jesse’s request. She was thrilled that they were becoming good friends and hoped too that her mother would begin to soften in he
r attitude towards the man that she was becoming more fond of each day.

  He stood up to leave. ‘Goodbye, Miss Rowe. What is your preferred time for me to collect you here tomorrow?’

  ‘Ten-thirty?’ she said, unsure, but presuming that would be early enough for them to have time to visit the north coast if that was what he still hoped to do.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said, picking up his stick and following her father out of the room.

  She waited until she heard the front door closing before going into the kitchen to see her mother.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Don’t think I missed your father giving you permission to go on yet another outing with Mr Boot tomorrow,’ her mother said in a low voice without diverting her attention from peeling a bowl of potatoes. ‘I don’t understand how I am the only one to see the danger in this—’ she hesitated as if struggling to find an acceptable word ‘—relationship.’

  ‘Mother, I …’

  Her mother spun round to face Florence, her eyes narrowed in barely controlled temper. ‘I hope that I’m proved wrong,’ she said, oblivious to the potato in her hand dripping onto her prized linoleum flooring, ‘but I can’t help worrying that you are becoming embroiled with a person with whom you have very little in common. Despite what you may think.’

  Upset to think that her mother saw so little potential in her friendship with Jesse, Florence opened her mouth to argue.

  Her mother noticed the puddle at her feet. ‘Now look what you made me do,’ she scowled, facing the sink once more and dropping the potato back into the bowl. ‘Fetch the mop and clean that mess up immediately.’

  She did as she was told, determined to have her say. When the floor was once again dry, she put away the mop and went to stand by her mother. ‘Would you like me to take over the peeling?’

  ‘No,’ her mother said. ‘It’s keeping me busy while I try to calm down.’