Mrs Boots Goes to War

by Deborah Carr

  Mrs Boots Goes to War

  Deborah Carr

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

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  Copyright © Deborah Carr 2021

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  Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

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  Deborah Carr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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  A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

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  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

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  Source ISBN: 9780008436339

  Ebook Edition © February 2021 ISBN: 9780008436322

  Version: 2021-01-29

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading…

  You will also love…

  About the Author

  Also by Deborah Carr

  One More Chapter...

  About the Publisher

  To my brilliant publisher, Charlotte Ledger. Thank you for everything. x

  Chapter One

  21 September 1913

  Florence Boot reread the letter she had dictated to her secretary earlier that morning. Her staff were waiting patiently for her to come and speak to them, but she was nervous. It wasn’t like her at all. Then again, Florence mused, she had learned the hard way never to act without considering the consequences first.

  She glanced at the Punch cartoon depicting her declaration that she would take on fifty college girls as shop assistants in Boots stores. It had been published a week before and her husband Jesse had brought it to her the previous evening stating that her intention was likely to lead to a superior type of shop woman. Florence still felt sick at the sight of it and the reaction she feared it would cause among her girls. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten any of them into thinking that they might be in danger of losing their positions within the company to those college girls. She needed to reassure them without delay that their jobs were perfectly safe.

  In fact, she thought, rather than them losing their jobs, she needed to confirm to them that the reason she had set up the series of evening classes to run in partnership with Nottingham’s Education Committee was to help all her girls, not just newly employed ones.

  ‘My intention had been to encourage my female employees to take these classes as a way of helping themselves,’ she explained to Miss Tweed. ‘It’s taken a huge amount of work and I’m horrified to think that the magazine has pre-empted my announcement to my girls. Don’t they realise that by doing this they’ve probably caused panic among my shop assistants?’

  Miss Tweed shook her head. ‘I don’t think they care one way or another.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Florence sighed heavily and unscrewed the top of her favourite fountain pen. ‘I just want to ensure that this silly cartoon doesn’t instil fear into my Dear Girls. I need to reassure them of my belief in the importance of their roles at Boots.’ She pushed the magazine aside. ‘Especially the girls who left school at fourteen and came directly to work here as shop assistants. I valued the work I did as a shop assistant very highly then and do so now. I won’t allow some faceless cartoonist to take that away from either me or my loyal staff.’

  Florence’s thoughts returned to the letter on her desk. ‘I want my staff to know exactly how much I value them and I hope this letter gets that message across.’ She signed the letter before picking up her blotter and rolling it over her signature, then handed it to Miss Tweed. ‘Thank you.’

  Florence needed to keep her mind off her worries and looked at her notes from her most recent trip to New York on the RMS Caronia. She had had so little available time since returning to Nottingham that she still hadn’t managed to put her notes in order for Miss Tweed to type up and file.

  It had been a busy trip, as always, but, this time, she had taken her children Margery and John with her. John had been very entertaining during the voyage, as she had known he would be, but had continued his journey, travelling to Boston to carry out business on behalf of her and Jesse, while she and Margery had remained in New York City to visit suppliers.

  Florence recalled fondly those blissful six days during the transatlantic crossing when she could spend time with her youngest daughter and son. She had missed Jesse and worried about him being in Nottingham without her, especially now that he was becoming more disabled each month, but his male nurse George was staying at the house and would take good care of him.

  Margery was a smart twenty-one-year-old woman now and Florence thoroughly enjoyed her company. She had been concerned that Margery and her sister, Dorothy, might wish to join the suffrage movement, as Florence herself had been tempted to do, but had been somewhat disconcerted when suffragettes burned down the Nottingham Boat Club building on the Trent Embankment, because it was a men-only organisation. She did sympathise with them, but that really was a step too far.

  The previous evening, before Jesse’s return home, Florence had spent a few hours chatting with her two daughters, listening to their opinions, determined to let them know that what they had to say about current situations was valued by her. Once again, Margery had brought up the subject of the brutal death of the suffragette Emily Wilding Davison. Florence had now also seen the footage at the picture house of the poor woman being hit by the King’s horse, Anmer, during the Epsom Derby three months before and understood Margery’s horror. She was glad her daughters took an interest in the women’s suffrage movement and how they could help themselves as well as other women.

  ‘I was speaking to Father about the Cat and Mouse Act,’ Margery had told them. ‘I think it’s disgusting that they’ve been allowed to force feed the women suffragists, but he explained that the act made the hunger strikes legal.’

  ‘That’
s right,’ Florence said, still horrified to think that the legal system could allow something so cruel to be passed. ‘I hadn’t realised it was the case until recently. Apparently, they brought in the act so that they can release the women from prison temporarily when their health deteriorates. Then, once their health improves again, they can re-arrest them and take them back to jail to complete their sentences.’

  ‘Why would they do that? It all sounds so cruel.’ Margery said, scowling.

  Florence agreed. Personally, she didn’t believe the women should be treated so harshly in any way. ‘I gather they believe that if the women are weak from their hunger strikes then they’ll be too unwell to commit further unlawful acts.’

  ‘Well, I think the way they treat them is disgusting,’ Margery said. ‘I don’t think there’s any reason to inflict such torture on these poor women; they’re only fighting for something we would all like to have. I’m not surprised they feel compelled to go to these lengths.’

  ‘I read somewhere,’ Dorothy said, thoughtfully, ‘that there’s an advertisement saying something to the effect of, “women bring the voters into the world, so should be entitled to vote themselves”.’

  Margery gasped. ‘That’s true. We can give birth to these men but not be equal to them.’ She shook her head. ‘How long do we have to wait for this unfairness to be wiped out?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Florence admitted. ‘It’s wrong that we’re not seen as equal and I completely understand your fury. However, don’t think I’d be happy for either of you to take part in anything illegal.’

  Dorothy laughed. ‘We have no intention of doing anything silly,’ she said looking at her younger sister. ‘Do we, Margery?’

  Margery pretended to consider her sister’s words then pulled an innocent face. ‘Of course we don’t, Mother.’

  Florence could tell that Margery was teasing her and believed her daughters had more sense than to do anything they’d later regret, which was a relief.

  ‘Anyway,’ Florence said, ‘I believe I can do far more for women in leading by example. And I think that the two of you must find ways to do the same.’

  She watched Margery stare back at her in awe as if Florence had just shared some incredible secret. ‘Mother, that’s exactly what we should do.’ Margery frowned. ‘But what can I possibly do to inspire others? I haven’t achieved anything yet.’

  ‘You work hard at Boots, like many other women. I’m sure you will think of something, in time. Right now, though, the most important thing you can do is live your life in a way that helps others.’

  ‘Yes, but how do I do that?’

  Florence gave her daughter’s question a little thought. She didn’t want to put her off from trying to help others, but also doubted she was ready to make big changes to her life. She certainly didn’t want Margery racing off to join the suffrage movement and become carried away and end up in some kind of trouble. ‘The most important way we can all change other’s days is simply by being kind. If you see someone needing help, then step up and do what you can. You’re already hard working and get along very well with your colleagues at the factory and that’s a good start.’

  Margery didn’t seem impressed. ‘But it’s not very likely that I’ll make a big difference to many people by doing that.’

  Florence put her arm around Margery’s shoulders. She loved that her daughter was so determined to find a role for herself. ‘Your time will come, I promise you.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She stared at Florence silently for a few seconds. ‘When you were a shop assistant at grandfather’s stationer’s did you know that you wanted to achieve all that you have done since?’

  Florence laughed and shook her head. ‘Not at all. I do recall that I didn’t want to marry and give up my independence. I thought – mistakenly, as it turned out – that if I became someone’s wife then it would mean I would spend my days running a house and bringing up children while my husband achieved things outside the home.’

  Dorothy leant forward in her chair, grinning. ‘But you did run a house and bring up children,’ she said, giggling. ‘You just managed to do it while also going out to work all day with Father.’

  ‘Dorothy’s right. I’ve no idea how you fitted everything into your day. I still don’t know how you do what you do.’

  ‘Mother has more energy than most of us.’ Dorothy laughed, raising an eyebrow at her younger sister.

  Florence loved times like these, when she and her daughters could have fun together. ‘I don’t, I just plan my days well.’

  Florence grinned as both her daughters fell back in their chairs, laughing and holding their stomachs. She hadn’t expected them to find what she said quite that amusing but loved that they did so. ‘It wasn’t that funny, surely?’

  Tears ran down Dorothy’s cheeks. She wiped them away with the tips of her fingers and nudged her sister. ‘It was, Mother. You are funny, but you’re also someone who we look up to.’

  ‘And love, very much,’ Margery said as they both stood to move closer to her and give her a hug.

  Chapter Two

  Later that evening, when the girls had retired to their rooms, Florence sat quietly on her bed. She had intended reading but, although she was enjoying the novel she had brought up with her from their small library, she couldn’t take her mind off what she and the girls had been discussing.

  After some consideration about the suffrage movement, Florence reasoned that she had been right to suggest the girls could do more for women by example. Just like her. Hadn’t she worked next to her husband since their marriage and shown that she had the brain to compete with any man, and the strength of character and determination needed to get ahead in business and make her ideas come to fruition?

  It had also dawned on her that she was able to help many women already, both with her new project of free evening classes for her staff and also with her continued planned outings and help with their welfare, giving advice to those who needed it.

  Her family was growing up and seemed to be settling down now. Florence loved that John had been working with the company for a couple of years and knew that Dorothy was ready for a new direction in her life. Florence had been aware of her twenty-three-year-old daughter’s wish to do more with her days, but she had still been surprised when Dorothy met and fell in love with Captain Wilfred Montagu Bruce.

  Florence was used to Jesse being known by people she met and all of them knew exactly who the captain was, having read about his heroic exploits in the newspapers. She was in awe of the captain’s bravery in taking part in the two southern voyages with his brother-in-law Captain Robert Scott on the Terra Nova between 1910 and 1913. She could not deny that her daughter’s beau was a real-life hero and understood why a young woman would have her head turned by someone who had achieved so much already in his life.

  She was a little concerned though that he might have too much life experience for her daughter, who had enjoyed a very sheltered upbringing with her and Jesse. She had been pleased for her daughter when Dorothy and the captain had become friends before his final voyage, but hadn’t anticipated anything more might come of their friendship. She looked back now thinking about the evenings Dorothy had been dressed up, excited to be accompanying the captain when he collected her to take her to friends’ parties. They always seemed to enjoy each other’s company and Florence prayed that the hopes she instinctively knew Dorothy held for a future with the captain were not dashed at any point.

  Now, though, Dorothy had confided in her that since the captain’s return to England on the 14 June, they had become much closer and he was ready to propose to her.

  Florence was determined not to stand in the way of her children’s happiness – as her own mother had temporarily done with her, believing she was protecting her. She had to trust that her and Jesse’s upbringing of their three children had given them the confidence and awareness to make informed decisions about their own futures.

  ‘He’s here, Mother,’
Dorothy called as she stared out of a window to the side of the front door. She spun to face Florence and rushed over to her. ‘Do you think Father will be gentle with him when he speaks to him?’

  Florence thought back to her conversation with Jesse only an hour before, and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure he will.’ She straightened the small gold brooch on Dorothy’s dress, wondering if it was a gift from her captain. ‘Try not to fret. This will soon be over and, if the captain walks into this house and sees you in a state, well, it’s not going to give him much confidence, is it?’

  Dorothy frowned. ‘No, you’re right.’ She straightened her shoulders and stood next to Florence, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

  Seconds later, Meadows marched through the hallway, glancing only briefly towards the two women before opening the front door. Florence took her daughter’s nearest hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. She recalled only too well the excitement and nerves she had felt when Jesse had come to her parents’ flat above her father’s stationery shop in Queen Street to ask his permission to marry her.