Mrs Boots

by Deborah Carr

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  21 September 1885

  Miss Florence Rowe

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  Dearest Florence,

  I will be leaving Jersey Harbour mid-morning and have asked a messenger from the hotel to deliver this letter to you in order that it reaches you as soon as possible.

  I feel certain that you will be as downcast as me to know that we are about to begin a long period of separation, but as I leave to take the ferry back to the mainland, I know that the time will pass quickly and that once it is over we will be married and then no one will ever have the right to part us again.

  I have much planned for the coming months and hope that you, too, keep busy, not only working at Rowes but with your sisters and your friends, with whom I feel sure you will find distraction and support. Write to me often, so that we may share our daily lives. I will then be able to imagine you at work, reading, going for strolls along the beach, taking outings with your friends and attending chapel on Sundays.

  I wish that I had been able to stay on the island long enough to buy you a keepsake of our time together here, but will send you something small enough to enclose in a letter on my return to Nottingham.

  I am being called now and must sign off so that this reaches you today.

  Remember, dearest, that this too will pass and in no time we will once again be together.

  My love, until then,

  Your most sincere,

  Jesse

  Florence hugged Jesse’s letter to her heart. He had been thinking of her this morning while she was silently pining for him, as she knew he would. She re-read his words and then, hearing footsteps on the hall stairs, hurried to her bedroom to put the letter away in the drawer of her mahogany writing slope that her father had given her on her previous birthday. It was her favourite possession and he had seen her polishing it over the months in the shop. Opening the gift had been one of her most special days.

  Now it would hold her precious private letters from Jesse. She couldn’t think of a better place in which to store them.

  She washed her face and hands and sat down to write back to him.

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  22 September 1885

  Mr J Boot

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  Dearest Jesse,

  Your letter was a welcome treat for me to discover after I finished work today. Thank you. I have been trying to keep occupied all day, but, despite my good intentions, my mind keeps slipping back to you and the wonderful times we have shared.

  I went to see Albert at the grocer shop next door earlier and he, as usual, cheered me up. He suggested we attend a concert at the Casino de Jersey later this week with friends. I tried to tell him that I was not in the mood to do so, but he insisted that it would be the best thing to cheer me up. I hope you don’t have an issue with me going. I don’t assume that you will, but want to be certain.

  Apart from that, I have nothing much to report. I am a little concerned about Lily and thought I saw her through the shop window walking passed on the opposite side of the road, but when I went to the door intending on speaking to her, I realised it wasn’t her at all. I can’t help worrying about her and hope to see her soon, to ensure she is well.

  By the time you receive this you will probably also have the letter I posted to you this morning. I hope your journey wasn’t too tiring and look forward very much to hearing from you again.

  With fondest love,

  Florence

  She finished her letter and placed it on the small table in her room ready for posting first thing in the morning. She supposed that if they did keep in constant contact it would help ease their separation. If Jesse had already written to her even before leaving the island, then surely she could trust him to write to her often enough to keep her mind busy, either mulling over what she had written to him, or her thinking of information she could include in her letters back to him.

  She took another piece of paper and began listing all the things she would be able to write to him about in the coming months. The rest of summer, fun with her friends, customers at work, even the soon-to-be-planned-for Harvest Festival at chapel. She thought of Christmas and her mood dipped to think that they would be apart on what should have been their first Christmas together. She could at least buy him a gift and would ensure that she posted it to him early so that he received it in good time to place it under his Christmas tree so that he would be reminded of her and know that she was thinking about him at all times.

  Chapter 17

  Florence was working on her list of things to write to Jesse about when her mother knocked on her bedroom door.

  ‘Florence? May I come in?’

  She quickly turned over the piece of paper, hoping the ink was dry enough not to smudge her table, and screwed the lid back onto her fountain pen. She placed the pen onto the table.

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ she said, standing up to go and open the door. What could her mother wish to discuss with her that had to be done in the privacy of her bedroom? she wondered. Florence wasn’t in the mood to discuss Jesse again. She would not have minded speaking about him to Amy, or even Adelaide, or Albert, but knowing her mother didn’t approve of them being a couple soured the subject.

  She walked over to the door and opened it. ‘Please, come in,’ she said, standing back to let her mother enter her room.

  Her mother stood at the end of her bed and scanned the room. Florence could see her taking in the tall sash window high above the busy street. Despite the streets being much quieter than earlier, the sound of chatter drift into the open window.

  ‘I remember when we chose that for you,’ her mother said, indicating the floral wallpaper that she and Florence had picked out several years before when Adelaide had married her husband and moved out of the flat into her own home. Florence had been excited to finally have her own bedroom then. It was a new experience after sharing her private space with Amy since they had moved to the flat at Queen Street.

  ‘You have everything laid out very well,’ her mother said approvingly. ‘I don’t know why I’m surprised; you’ve always been excellent at creating impressive displays downstairs in the shop.’

  Florence was secretly thrilled at her mother’s compliment. She rarely gave them. She had told her children when younger that to over compliment a child would risk the chance of them becoming over-confident and that was something she would never tolerate. Hearing her being so open about her liking of this room and the way Florence arranged the displays made her slightly anxious. What was her mother leading up to?

  ‘I so rarely come into this room,’ her mother said wistfully. ‘And you’ve changed it somewhat since the last time I did.’ She walked over to the window and peered down at the people outside. ‘It’s noisier than most of the rooms, but sunnier too. I remember when we set it up for you after Adelaide left.’

  ‘So do I,’ Florence said, unsure where this conversation was leading.

  ‘You were very excited.’

  ‘I was. I still love it in here,’ Florence said, although resisted adding that despite her love for this room she would give is up in a heartbeat to be with Jesse.

  ‘Shall we sit?’

  Florence nodded and sat on the edge of her bed letting her mother take the bedroom seat.

  She watched her mother smooth down her skirts, her bony hands adorned with her thin gold wedding band that Florence noticed for the first time was worn after so many years of wear.

  ‘I don’t wish for us to become estranged over this business with you and Mr Boot,’ her mother said eventually.

  Florence wasn’t surprised at her mother’s usual blunt and to-the-point comment. She would have been more concerned if she had not got straight to the point.

  ‘Neither do I,’ Florence agreed. ‘But I can’t help feeling ups
et by the restrictions you’ve insisted Father put in place until next summer.’

  Her mother gazed at her, studying her face until Florence became uncomfortable. What was she looking for so intently?

  ‘I am your mother and, despite what you may think right now, your happiness is of the utmost importance to me.

  ‘Yes, I know that,’ Florence admitted, wishing she could argue but knowing it would be disrespectful to do so.

  ‘I’m aware that you yearn for your own home and your independence, but I worry that by marrying Mr Boot you will not end up with the independence that you so crave. Can you see how that could happen?’

  Could she? Florence thought about it. Did she truly not see an issue as Jesse aged, or was it that she was simply ignoring any chance that their future together could be marred by his progressive arthritis? Was it that she was so focused on the excitement of a new future with him that she was blind to any hint of troubles that might work their way into their married lives, or was it that she simply loved him enough not to care about what may lay ahead for them?

  ‘Mother, I love you dearly, you know that, but I also love Jesse and now that he has shown his intentions towards me are in a marriage, I love him even more. I am so excited for our future together and can’t imagine that anything could mar them.’

  Her mother’s face darkened, as she stood. ‘Then you are being a fool.’

  Angry that her mother didn’t allow her the freedom to make her own decisions about something as important as her future, Florence said, ‘Maybe so, but didn’t you decide to marry Father without knowing what was to lie ahead in your future? Doesn’t every woman who accepts a man’s hand in marriage do the same?’

  ‘Your father was healthy,’ she snapped, walking to the door. ‘He still is remarkably strong for his age.’

  Florence could feel her hackles rising. ‘That’s as maybe, but, in your case, surely the issue wasn’t one of health, but one of finance.’

  Her mother spun around. ‘What on earth do you mean? You know nothing of our finances.’

  Florence had heard arguments behind closed doors between her parents over the years. She was aware that there had been times her father struggled to keep the shop going and the roof over their heads. She had found her mother in tears several times during her childhood and later wondered if this had been due to money worries. Why, she wondered, did parents feel the need to hide so much from their children, especially when they were grown up, like Florence and her siblings were?

  Chapter 18

  It was three days before Florence received another letter from Jesse. She was beginning to worry that something had happened to him on his journey home when nothing arrived with the post the previous day. Now, though, she spotted his handwriting on an envelope at the top of a pile on the counter and slipped it into her pocket to read as soon as she had a moment to herself.

  ‘I’m just taking a quick break,’ she said to Amy after the lunch rush had dissipated. ‘I’ll only be twenty or so minutes. Do you mind?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘No. Don’t be any longer though. Father will be wondering where you are otherwise.’

  She ran up the stairs to the flat and quickly went into her bedroom to open it. Without waiting to take off her Boot, Florence sat on the edge of her bed and opened his letter.

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  24 September 1885

  Miss Florence Boot

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  My Dearest,

  I have arrived home after a rather lengthy journey, with far too many delays along the way. I have to admit it was made all the less bearable by my sadness of our last meeting and having to leave you behind. I am aware that should your father have agreed to my proposal for your hand that I would not be arriving home alone now and kept trying to remind myself of that fact. Somehow it did little to alleviate my having to leave you behind.

  I am aware that my previous letter to you was full of positive notions and intentions, and, maybe when I wake tomorrow refreshed after a good night’s sleep, I might be in a better frame of mind. I probably should not be admitting my low spirits to you. Perhaps I should be less selfish and pretend to you that all is well. Today, though, I find that I am unable to.

  I have now changed and had some hot, sweet tea. My soul feels salved by it somewhat and I had considered discarding this letter to you and starting afresh. Then I thought of you, dearest Florence, and I realised that you are a woman who is truthful and would want the same in return. So, I am continuing with the same letter and hope that I was right to do so and that you are not offended by me doing so.

  I have spoken to my secretary and arranged for a full diary to be kept for me for the next few weeks, or at least until I am in better spirits and more able to focus on looking forward to the joys that lie ahead for us when we are able to begin our lives together. I long for us to be the decision makers in our future and not to have to bear the choices of others, albeit they make these decisions with your best interests at heart. Of that I am certain, even though I do not enjoy having to abide by them.

  I must sign off now. My carriage is waiting for me outside ready to take me to my first port of call at the factory where I have urgent matters that will no doubt keep me busy for the rest of the week.

  I long to read your next letter and will have more to tell you when I reply to it.

  With the fondest of wishes,

  Yours very truly,

  Jesse

  Florence re-read his heartfelt words before resting his letter on her lap and staring out of her window at the darkening skies. Winter was coming and it seemed that Jesse was suffering as much as she over their enforced parting. She couldn’t help feeling guilty that his sentiments made her feel slightly better. Was that selfish? Probably, but at least it reinforced her feelings towards him and confirmed to her, yet again, that he did love her as much as she loved him. The thought gave her a warm feeling. Today had been a far more satisfying day than she had dared hope it could be when she woke that morning.

  She didn’t want Jesse to feel sad though, so immediately took off her Boot and sat down to write back to him.

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  27 September 1885

  Mr J Boot

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  Dearest Jesse,

  I’m sorry that your journey was not as I had hoped it would be for you. I am relieved, however, to hear that you are now back at home and have returned to work.

  Please, do not ever hold back from speaking your truth to me. I wish to know all that you feel and if it is sad, then so be it. Mostly I hope that you are happy, and, despite your missing me, that you are keeping yourself busy with your businesses.

  We must be honest with each other at all times. If we are to get to know the real people that we both are then facing our sad days is surely as important as facing and sharing our better, happier times.

  The weather today in Jersey is miserable. It is misty and wet and all the customers coming into the shop today moaned about it in varying degrees. I had to walk to the post office for Father and as I walked I thought of poor Lily and her worn Boot and how they would be wet through. It made me think of the destitute families you mentioned living in or near the Lace District in Nottingham. How difficult it must be for those poor people to cope at any time, but especially when the weather deteriorates.

  When we are married, we must make a plan to help the people in the Nottingham area as much as we are able.

  Until next time, as always,

  Florence

  Chapter 19

  Florence kept as busy as possible over the next few weeks. It was now mid-October and she was slowly getting used to finding ways to keep her mind from dwelling on what could have been.

  She wrote to Jesse and was even persuaded by Amy to accompany her during two evenings at poetry re
adings, but she knew that her best days were the ones where she received a letter from Jesse. She decided she would need to find a way to focus her attention to keep from becoming too dependent on the arrival of his letters. Her good intentions were forgotten though when the postman arrived and handed her a letter with one hand and a bundle for her father with the other, two days later.

  ‘You bin waitin’ for this, Miss Rowe?’ the man asked cheekily.

  Amy marched over from where she had been working on a display of picture postcards that her father had brought in from a contact in France. ‘I’ll thank you not to be cheeky to my sister,’ Amy said, marching over and glaring at him.

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ he said, his face reddening as he marched out of the shop.

  ‘Well, really,’ Amy exclaimed, shaking her head at Florence and turning to go back to what she had been doing.

  Florence was walking back to the counter when she heard a cry and the postman snap at someone. ‘Get out of my way, they don’t want the likes of you in this shop.’

  Shocked to hear him speak to someone in such a way on their behalf, Florence spun round to look out of the door and see what was going on. She saw him push a young woman out of the way. It was Lily, who, she noted, was about to do as he instructed and walk away.

  Florence hurried up to the door. She had waited a long time to catch up with the young girl and an insolent postman was not going to send Lily off on Florence’s behalf.

  ‘Lily, stop,’ she pleaded. Lily waivered and for a second Florence thought that she would have to race after her down the street. Then Lily, glancing at the postman, did as Florence asked. ‘Come inside a moment, will you?’

  Florence could see Lily wasn’t wearing a shawl over the threadbare dress. She would need to do something to rectify that, she decided. First, though, she needed to speak to the postman.

  She waved the young girl in.

  ‘Amy, could you come and look after Lily here for me please. I won’t be long.’