by Deborah Carr
‘Thank you,’ Miss Tweed said shyly. ‘that’s very kind of you.’
But Florence wasn’t going to have the kindly woman say any such thing. ‘It is not. You deserve this week off and to enjoy it.’
With that, Miss Tweed left to type up the letters while Florence checked through the advert that she had requested to be run in the Nottingham papers for the new scent she had been instrumental in naming, Lareine’s Jersey Castle Eau de Cologne. Jesse had suggested that she call it after something in Jersey and Florence’s first thought had been the two castles that the island was so proud of, Elizabeth Castle, just outside St Helier Harbour, and Mont Orgueil, known to islanders as Gorey Castle, as it stood high on a granite and grass mound overlooking Gorey Harbour and the picturesque bay of Grouville. It was a connection to her much-missed island, and she was proud to introduce it to the store. She hoped it sold well and, having tested the scent samples as it was produced, she felt sure it would do so.
She took the draft advert through to Jesse’s office to show it to him. Entering, she smiled at him and placed the sheet of paper on his desk. ‘What do you think?’ He studied it briefly and then, looking up at her, didn’t smile as she had expected him to. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?’
Jesse rubbed his chin with his twisted right hand. ‘It’s not that I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘I know you’ve worked hard bringing this cologne to fruition, but I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it’s time we withdrew the trinkets and stock like this we sell. Should we not be removing these from our shelves and allowing more space for other more practical items?’
Florence wasn’t surprised to hear him say as much. ‘It had also occurred to me to wonder if this sort of thing is rather pointless or misplaced right now,’ she admitted. ‘But seeing the women in the store and factories who now, more than ever before, are living with constant fear, I believe they need something to boost their morale. Scent and little treats can help remind people of a happier time and –’ she placed her hands together – ‘maybe they will give them hope that there will be a time in the future when things will return to a much happier time for us all.’ When Jesse didn’t argue, she added, ‘We might all be living through one of our darkest times in history, but women need hope, especially those waiting for their loved ones to return. I know I do.’
‘Yes,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘I see your point.’
‘I think it’s times like the one we’re all living through that make little treats like these even more special.’ She waited for Jesse to consider her comments.
Eventually, he nodded, slowly. ‘I think you’re right.’ He pushed the draft advert back across the desk to her. ‘I think we need to approve this and have it published as soon as possible.’
Florence was relieved. Kissing him goodbye, she made her way to Miss Tweed’s office, signed off the advert, and handed it to her.
‘Once you’ve sent that on to be printed, you can go home. I hope you have a wonderful week away,’ Florence said, smiling. ‘I look forward to hearing all about your holiday on your return.’
Miss Tweed beamed at her. ‘Thank you, Lady Boot. I’ll look forward to telling you all about it.’
Florence and Jesse spent a relaxing weekend at Plaisaunce, their holiday home. The anxiety she felt never seemed to leave her now and once again she thought of her two children so close to the Front and an ever-threatening danger. She wished with all her heart that they were with her now, safe and happy. Florence knew she and Jesse were luckier than most to have so many happy family memories to keep them going. She never ceased to be glad that they had invested in their beautiful holiday home on the bank of the River Trent years before when their children had been small. She gazed at Jesse as he dozed in his wheelchair in the shade and recalled happier times when their children had been with them to enjoy all that this riverside home had to offer.
Her book lay on her lap as she stared out at the water as it rushed past the bank at the end of the garden and she pictured the many parties they had held over the years for their business acquaintances and staff. She especially enjoyed the sports days and the musical concerts they had put on over the years and thought fondly of the sewing circles she had held there since the war had begun. They were very lucky to be able to share their good fortune with those who helped them make it and she knew she would never tire of entertaining people, but she longed to be able to spend time as a family here once again.
On Sunday evening, they travelled in Jesse’s specially adapted motor back to St Heliers House. Although she had enjoyed the peace of her holiday home, it had given her too much time to ponder and fret about John and Margery so she was relieved to be returning home and looked forward to getting back to work.
Florence joined Jesse in the dining room the following morning back at St Heliers. Meadows brought in Jesse’s newspapers and set the first one down in front of him.
‘Thank you, Meadows,’ Jesse said. ‘Any news of your nephew and how he’s getting along?’ he asked as he spooned a mouthful of his porridge past his lips with difficulty.
Meadows stood by the table, his hands behind his back. ‘They tried to save his leg, Sir Jesse, but, unfortunately, it was too badly damaged for them to be able to do so.’
Florence was saddened to hear yet another young man would have to cope with life-changing injuries. ‘Your sister must be worried for him,’ she said, her heart aching for him and his family.
Meadows lowered his gaze. ‘She was devastated. But I told her that at least they saved his life and, hopefully, sometime soon, he’ll be on his way back home to her.’
‘Yes, that’s the way to think,’ Jesse said with a gentle understanding. ‘Stay positive. Look at me with my useless legs now. I still work and others can do, too.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Any other news to report?’
‘More of those Zeppelin bombings, Sir Jesse. That’s the big story of the day, it seems.’
Jesse frowned at him. ‘Casualties?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Florence shuddered. It was one thing knowing that there was a war going on nearby in France and Belgium but another entirely now that they were being attacked on home soil, and from the air, too. Who had ever considered such a terrifying thing could happen? It was the stuff of nightmares and all too unnerving. ‘Where were they this time?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Hull, Lady Boot.’
Florence dropped her fork, hardly hearing it clanging loudly as it landed on her porcelain plate before dropping to the polished floorboards. ‘Hull?’ she whispered, horrified. ‘And people were killed, you say?’
Meadows stepped forward and bent to retrieve her fork. ‘That’s what the broadsheets are saying, Lady Boot.’
Florence had to battle to remain calm. She wiped the side of her mouth with her napkin as she struggled to gather herself. ‘Do we know how many people and where exactly in Hull this might have been?’
Jesse cleared his throat. ‘Why are you asking so many questions, my dear? Are you concerned about anyone?’
‘Yes, Jesse.’ She was aware her voice was high-pitched but couldn’t seem to help it. ‘Hull city is where Miss Tweed’s sister lives. It’s where she’s gone to stay for the week.’ She turned her attention back to Meadows. ‘Please can you have a quick look at the paper and tell me what it says?’
Jesse motioned for him to take the paper. Florence listened as Meadows read the news, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. It seemed that at least twenty people, probably more, had been killed by the thirty-minute bombing around midnight the night before.
‘Thank you, Meadows,’ she said, feeling sick. ‘I know it’s probably an odd thing to say, especially when thousands of men are being killed on the Front, but it seems incredibly shocking when men, women and children are killed in their beds. Surely, we should all be able to feel safe at home?’
‘It’s not a strange thing to say at all,’ Jesse argued. ‘It is terrifying
to think that nowhere is safe any more.’ He wiped his mouth and took a sip from his glass of water. ‘Do you have the address where Miss Tweed is staying, so we can make enquiries about her and her sister?’
Florence tried to gather her thoughts. ‘That’s a good idea. I don’t have the sister’s address but maybe Miss Tweed’s assistant, Miss Lightbody, has a note of her whereabouts. I’ll ask her as soon as I arrive at work.’
She had to contain herself not to give into her concerns for her secretary while she waited for Jesse to ready himself and be helped into the motor. Florence hoped desperately that Miss Lightbody would have the address to hand so that she could reassure herself that her secretary, a woman whose friendship and confidence she valued highly, was safe and well.
‘I have it here somewhere,’ Miss Lightbody said as she rifled through her desk drawer.
Florence found it almost impossible to hold onto her patience. How could the girl have misplaced something she had probably only been given in the past few days? She held her tongue, not wishing to fluster her even more, and only just managed to stop herself from tapping her toe impatiently. If she was concerned then surely Miss Lightbody would be, too.
‘Yes, here it is,’ she said, holding up a piece of notepaper triumphantly.
Florence stepped forward and took it, reading her assistant secretary’s neat script. Her heart sank. She had been right. Miss Tweed would have been staying in Hull city and not in a village on the outskirts, as she had hoped. ‘Thank you,’ she said aware now that her impatience had probably been obvious. ‘I’ll take this, if you don’t mind, and return it to you once I’ve noted down the address.’ Florence, the note shaking in her hands, went to leave the room.
‘It’s to do with last night’s bombing raid, isn’t it, Lady Boot?’ the woman asked quietly, her voice filled with concern for her colleague.
Florence immediately regretted being impatient with her. She wasn’t the only one fond of Miss Tweed. As far as she knew, all the other staff respected her secretary and Miss Lightbody probably more than most as she was the one who worked in the same office with her each day.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Florence forced a reassuring smile. ‘We mustn’t jump to conclusions yet, though,’ she said trying to reassure her despite having done exactly that earlier. ‘We should say our prayers for Miss Tweed and her sister that they’re safe and well. Hopefully, we’ll know soon enough.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. Will you let me know if you hear any news?’
‘Yes, of course I will. Now I’d better go and make enquiries about Miss Tweed.’
‘Thank you.’
Florence hurried to her own office next door and copied down the address, then went to Jesse’s office and handed it to him. ‘Would you like to phone the police station, or should I?’
‘Leave this with me. I’ll contact the Hull police and try to find out whatever I can.’ He looked at her. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I don’t want you worrying about Miss Tweed. Not yet at least.’
Florence shook her head. ‘I’m fine,’ she fibbed. Then, aware that he knew her well enough to see through her reassurances, she turned and opened the door. ‘I have a lot to be getting on with. I’ll speak to you a little later.’ She stepped out into the corridor. ‘Please let me know as soon as you hear any news.’
Jesse was staring down at the address. ‘You’ll be the first one I speak to when I do.’
Relieved that Jesse was on the case, Florence went back to her office and studied the letters piled neatly on her desk awaiting her attention. She did have a lot to do but couldn’t push away the nagging feeling that the news would be bad. She had always been a positive person, but the past year had changed her outlook on life. Florence couldn’t bear it if Agnes Tweed had been injured, or worse. She shook her head to try to dispel the negative thoughts. She needed to focus on her tasks in hand, but it was going to be difficult to concentrate on anything until she knew her secretary was safe.
‘That’s enough,’ she murmured, irritated with herself. She expected Gladys Lightbody to concentrate on her work and she must lead by example. After all, what else could she do while she waited?
Chapter Eleven
The morning dragged. Florence’s mind kept wandering to Miss Tweed and her sister. She prayed several times that they were safe somewhere before forcing her attention back to her work. She had given Miss Lightbody enough dictation to keep her busy replying to all the letters that had arrived in the morning post, and met with another three female staff who had come to her office to give her notice. Florence was concerned to hear that three of her girls, all cousins, were leaving to go and work in the gunpowder factory at Waltham Abbey.
‘Our aunt works there,’ one of them informed her proudly. ‘She says we can stay with her for the time being and doesn’t think we’ll have any problem being offered work with her standing as our guarantor.’
Florence felt obliged as their boss to at least try to dissuade them from going but knew they would listen to their aunt over her when it came to suggestions for their futures. She realised she was probably wasting her time trying to dissuade them from leaving but did her best to tell them that the extra wage they would earn working there was for doing dangerous work.
‘You could be putting your life at risk working in these places,’ she had said, going on to explain how she had heard that the factories needed solid brick blast walls dividing different areas where staff worked.
Each of the women had listened politely, but Florence was sad to find that none of them changed their minds.
Two further male staff also gave notice that they had enlisted. For once, Florence was almost overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness. Usually, she could talk herself into finding a positive aspect of most situations but not this time.
She decided to go for a walk around the store to take her mind off her woes. As she crossed the second floor, she noticed that although her staff wore smiles a lot of them didn’t reach the women’s eyes. What were they dealing with at home? Florence pondered. Do they have a brother or cousin, or even a beloved man, fighting somewhere? Could some of them have mothers at home nursing wounded loved ones who had returned from the Front or elsewhere injured or traumatised by their experiences? Everyone was fighting their own private battle to find ways to cope with the drastic change in their worlds, Florence thought miserably. The ache in her heart at being separated from her own two children and the fear she felt for their safety never left her. It was all too sad and the thought that this could continue for months or probably even years was extremely frightening.
Florence stopped at each counter to speak to her girls. She had always enjoyed taking the time to chat to her staff, believing that if they felt comfortable with her on a daily basis then they would also have the confidence to come to her with any troubles she might be able to help them with. Now, though, with all the turmoil of the war and so many Nottingham soldiers being injured or killed, she felt it more vital than ever to keep communication open with her staff.
Florence had only had time to catch up with three of her staff when she noticed Miss Lightbody rushing towards her. She could see that her assistant secretary was doing her best to appear as if she was walking calmly although not quite managing to hide her urgency. Florence thanked the girl she had been talking to and went immediately to meet Gladys. The girl’s eyes were wide and her hands balled into fists. Florence suspected Jesse must have sent her with news. She concentrated on keeping her demeanour calm. It wouldn’t do for customers or members of staff to see her ruffled.
Keeping a smile on her face and her voice low, Florence asked, ‘My husband has some news for me?’
‘Yes, Lady Boot. He asked me to fetch you to his office as quickly as possible.’
‘Then let’s go. Try to act calm. Everyone seems to be on high alert at the moment, what with all the bad news that keeps coming. We don’t want them to think something is wrong here, do we?’
‘No, Lady Bo
ot.’
Florence didn’t want to wait for the lift. It usually had others riding in it to different floors and people generally wanted to pass the time of day with her and she couldn’t bear to waste a minute that she didn’t have to. She walked as quickly but as gracefully as she could towards the stairs, giving those she passed smiles and brief quips about the weather, or complimenting the item that they were buying. Gladys followed silently.
‘Thank you, Gladys,’ she said as she reached Jesse’s office door. ‘You can continue with your work. I promise that if it’s news about Miss Tweed then I will come directly to your office to let you know.’
‘Thank you, Lady Boot.’
Florence waited for Gladys to walk into her office and close the door before entering Jesse’s room. She was happy to tell Gladys any news, as she had assured her she would, but Florence knew that she would first need to come to terms with whatever Jesse was about to share with her.
‘You called for me, Jesse?’
‘Yes, my dear. Please, sit.’
Florence studied his face as she did so. Ordinarily, she could read his emotions, but he was keeping them closed from her at that moment. She knew without him saying anything further that he was trying to protect her and that the news was bad.
‘I’m afraid I have the worst news for you, my dear.’
Florence winced. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and clasped her hands together trying to remain composed. ‘Go on.’
‘I am assured by the local constabulary in Hull that Miss Tweed and her sister were killed last night.’
Without meaning to, Florence let out a sob. ‘Poor Agnes,’ she cried. ‘After all those years spent caring for her mother, and now this happens just when she takes a little time to go on holiday.’ It broke her heart to think that Miss Tweed’s few days away staying with her sister had been the cause of her death. ‘This interminable war.’ It was harrowing enough to think of soldiers being killed overseas but to have such a thing happen to innocent women and children on the Home Front seemed like an invasion of the worst kind.