by Deborah Carr
Jesse closed his eyes and sighed sadly. ‘I’m so very sorry, my dear. I know this is not what you were hoping to hear.’
Florence took a moment to be able to speak. ‘It isn’t. I am grateful that you’re the one breaking this dreadful news to me, Jesse. Please, carry on.’
‘The house they were sleeping in received a direct hit. They would have been killed instantly.’ He frowned. ‘He assured me that they won’t have suffered, Florence. We can take comfort from that, at least.’ Florence hoped he was right. ‘Do you wish for me to continue?’
Florence swallowed, hoping it would help her keep breathing. No, she wanted to give in to her heartbreak at the loss of the woman who had been her right hand for so many years. She hated to hear more details, but knew that she must. ‘Yes, please tell me everything.’
Jesse rubbed his face with his hand. ‘However tragic this is, my dear, at least we know they would not have suffered any pain or fear.’
Only if they were asleep at the time, Florence thought, forcing from her mind an image of a terrified Agnes Tweed with her sister before they were killed.
‘How could they possibly know that the two women didn’t suffer, though, Jesse? The report in your broadsheet stated that the bombing raid lasted half an hour. If the bomb that killed Miss Tweed and her sister landed towards the end of that, or even a few minutes into the raid, then, surely, they would have woken and been terrified.’
‘It’s possible,’ Jesse replied honestly. ‘All we can do now is pray that they did not.’ She shook her head. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I know this is the news you feared the most. I wish with all my heart that things could have been different.’
Why hadn’t she allowed her secretary to delay her trip when she had offered? Florence thought miserably.
‘Florence? Speak to me.’
She hated to worry him so cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. ‘Thank you, Jesse. At least we now know what happened, I suppose.’
‘Does she have any other family, do you know?’
Florence shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, almost giving in to tears but stopping herself just in time. She suspected that if she gave in to her grief over Agnes Tweed then she might find it almost impossible to stop crying and that simply would not do, not while she was at work. ‘She doesn’t. Her mother died a few years ago. I don’t believe her sister had any children and she was recently widowed.’
‘How sad. Then we will cover the funeral costs.’
Florence knew he was trying to help her and was grateful for his never-ending support. ‘It was my fault,’ she said, miserably, unable to shift the heavy weight of guilt pressing down on her shoulders. ‘Why didn’t I let her postpone her trip like she had offered to do?’
‘No, Florence. You must not say such things,’ he replied, his voice gruff. ‘How could this terrible incident have anything to do with you?’
‘But I could have saved her from all this.’ Furious with her lack of control, Florence found she was unable to hold back her tears any longer and began to cry.
Jesse’s voice softened. ‘You mustn’t think that way. You encouraged her to go because you wanted her to spend time with her sister. You know it was the right thing to do then, as you will do soon when you recover from this shock. How could you have possibly known that this dreadful tragedy would occur? You did the kind thing and insisted she go,’ he said. Then added, ‘Imagine if you had accepted her offer to delay her visit and then her sister had died alone? Miss Tweed would most likely have blamed herself for the rest of her life for not seeing her sister on her birthday and for not being there with her. And you would have blamed yourself for that. No, I won’t have you feel any guilt. It’s misplaced and unnecessary.’
He was right, Florence reasoned. However tragic this incident was, and, she thought sadly it truly was desperately unfair, Miss Tweed would have suffered dreadful guilt if she had not gone to stay with her sister this week. It wasn’t much consolation, but it was something and she was going to have to do her best to hold on to Jesse’s words.
‘I think you should give yourself time to recover from this news,’ Jesse said. ‘Why don’t you go home and take it easy for the rest of the day?’
Florence’s first instinct was to agree. Staying in her office was only going to be a constant reminder of the loss of her friend who for years had been so much more than just a secretary to her. She had valued her very highly and more so as the years progressed. Running away from the situation was not going to help anyone, though. Florence reasoned that Miss Tweed would remain professional at all times – it was something she took pride in doing – and, today, Florence decided, she was going to continue as she did each day.
‘No, Jesse. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I think the best thing I can do is stay here and work.’
‘Hang the workload, Florence. You’re always telling me how I need to put my health before everything.’
Florence couldn’t miss his annoyance with her. He was right, she always said exactly that to him. ‘Yes, Jesse. But when have you ever listened to me when I’ve tried to make you slow down?’
‘That’s true enough.’
She needed to keep busy. To force herself to carry on. ‘Miss Tweed would be horrified to think of me shirking my responsibilities. She understood only too well the importance of what we try to do at Boots. Therefore, the first thing I’m going to do is speak to Miss Lightbody and break this horrible news to her as well as I can.’ She thought of Gladys’s impending nuptials. ‘She’s also leaving us soon, though for much happier reasons, thankfully. I need to ensure we have some form of consistency here, so I’m going to have to ask her if she can stay on a little while. I need to find a replacement for both her and Miss Tweed. It’s not going to be an easy task.’
‘It won’t,’ Jesse agreed. ‘In more ways than one.’
Gladys Lightbody blew her nose once again. ‘Oh, Lady Boot. I dreaded you telling me this news. Poor Miss Tweed.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s like nothing we’ve ever known, is it? I mean, who ever imagined we would have bombs falling down on us from the sky? I always thought it was the soldiers and nurses who were in danger. I never expected them to be killing us in our beds.’
Neither did Florence. ‘Yes, well, I think there’s nothing much we can do to protect ourselves from these dreadful raids, especially when they’re so unexpected.’ As she spoke, she wondered what plans she and Jesse should put in place for their staff in case a bombing raid took place during a working day over one of their stores or factories. ‘We need to remain calm and try to press on as well as we’re able.’
Miss Lightbody pushed her shoulders back and sat up straighter a defiant look on her pretty face. ‘Yes, Lady Boot. That’s exactly what we must do.’
Florence hoped she was doing the right thing by the young woman trying to keep her busy. ‘However, that said, if you would rather take a little time for yourself and go home for the rest of the day, I’ll arrange for a taxi to take you there.’
Gladys shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Thank you very much for offering, but if you’re staying here and carrying on, then I will, too. I know how short-staffed you are right now and I don’t want to add to that burden.’ She blew her nose again and Florence watched as the girl did her best to pull herself together. Florence waited patiently for her to speak again. ‘I’m aware that with me leaving shortly to be married I’m only doubling your secretarial problems.’
Florence was well aware of that but didn’t think that now was the right time to broach the subject. ‘We don’t have to worry about that presently,’ she replied, wanting to reassure the girl as much as possible.
‘I know you’re trying to be kind, Lady Boot, but I would rather address this now, if that’s all right with you?’
Florence confirmed that it was. Gladys obviously had something she wished to say and it would be unkind to try to stop her. ‘Go on.’
‘I’m going to write to my Cyril and let him know that we
need to put off our wedding for a few months.’
Florence felt fresh tears threatening to appear. She swallowed them away, determined not to let her emotions show to her young employee. ‘No,’ she said, standing firm. ‘There is a war on, as we all are aware, and I am not going to be the cause of you delaying your marriage to your sweetheart.’ She had no intention of allowing Gladys Lightbody to do as she had offered. Florence knew that if she felt guilt about Agnes Tweed’s visit to her sister then the thought of potentially denying this young woman any time as a bride should her fiancé be killed would be too much for her to bear. She recalled her happiness as a newlywed and had no intention of being the reason these two brave young people put off their marriage.
‘But, I don’t mind, Lady Boot. Truly, I don’t.’
‘Well, I do, Gladys.’ Florence smiled at her, grateful for her thoughtfulness and loyalty. ‘It’s an extremely generous offer and one that I appreciate greatly. But I have no intention of accepting it. You will leave to be married when your Cyril writes to let you know the date of his next leave and that will be the end of it.’
She watched Gladys’s expression change from one of determination to one of gratitude. ‘Thank you, Lady Boot. Cyril did say it won’t be for a few months yet, so, hopefully, I’ll be here to help train the new secretary as well as I can. I wanted to give you proper warning of my intentions to leave, though, even before this horrible thing had happened to Miss Tweed.’
‘It’s only right that your relationship isn’t put aside. We each deserve what happiness we can grasp. This is a terrible unforeseen circumstance and it’s beyond all of our control, but we will have to deal with it as well as we can.’ She rested her palms on the blotter in front of her on her desk. ‘However, that means that we need to get to work and find your replacement.’ She hesitated, needing a moment to brace herself for what she had to add. ‘And that of our friend Miss Tweed. It’s a ghastly business but, unfortunately, the business has to keep running if we are to help the war effort in our own way here at Boots.’
‘It does, Lady Boot,’ Gladys said with a determination in her voice that Florence hadn’t heard before.
Chapter Twelve
29 June 1915
‘I have something for you,’ Jesse said, having called her into his office one morning.
Florence hoped desperately that he didn’t have more bad news for her. She might put on a brave face to everyone but some days it was more of a struggle to manage it successfully than on others. She sat down on the opposite side of his desk and clasped her hands together.
‘Please, hurry and tell me,’ she said realising that his eyes were twinkling and that it must therefore be good news rather than bad. Her shoulders relaxed and she waited as he slowly slid a letter across the desk towards her.
Picking it up, Florence immediately noticed John’s writing on the envelope. She gave Jesse a quizzical look. ‘What’s this about?’
He laughed. ‘Why don’t you read it and find out?’
Florence began to read the letter, her face breaking into a smile as her eyes scanned the words on the paper.
France
26 June1915
* * *
Sir Jesse and Lady Boot
St Heliers House
The Park
Nottingham
England
* * *
Dearest Mother and Father,
* * *
I’m writing with news that I feel certain you will be happy to receive. I am to be discharged from my duty and return home on medical grounds. I leave my battalion tomorrow and unlike many of my contemporaries my discharge is not brought about by injuries received in the field of war but due to pain caused by varicose veins in both my legs. I have written to Margaret earlier today and look forward to being with you all once again. I’m not certain when I’ll arrive home. I have to admit that although I chose to enlist I soon discovered that was wasn’t the glorious, heroic escapade I imagined, but a gory, noisy, chaotic nightmare that I will be grateful to leave behind.
* * *
I often think of Margery and the long hours she works to help exhausted soldiers and can’t help wondering how this has affected my youngest sister. I know she is a strong and determined woman capable of all that she puts her mind to, but I hope that her experiences don’t alter the way she views the world.
* * *
Enough negativity. I meant only to write and tell you of my homecoming and so I will finish on that note. I look forward to seeing you both and being back in Nottingham once again in the near future.
* * *
My fondest love, as always,
Your loving son, John
‘So John’s on his way home?’ Florence said when she had finished reading the letter, her voice barely above a whisper in her effort not to give in to her emotions. She could hardly believe her son was coming home. The relief made her slightly light-headed. ‘Poor boy having such painful legs.’ Was this a new thing? she wondered, unaware that her son had ever suffered from such an affliction.
‘Less painful than a wound from a bullet or shrapnel though,’ Jesse said, thoughtfully.
He was right. Florence closed her eyes to give a prayer of thanks that her son’s return hadn’t been as a result of anything life-threatening. She felt as if she could breathe freely for the first time since the war began. Her son, for all her worries about him, had fought for his country and she hoped he was as proud of himself as she was of him. Florence rested her right palm on the letter. John had touched this piece of paper and soon she would be able to hold her son close once again. It couldn’t happen soon enough.
She realised she was being selfish. John had been determined to do his bit for the war effort. ‘For all his bravado,’ she said miserably, ‘I have a feeling that John is going to find it difficult to leave his battalion behind.’ If Florence knew her son as well as she assumed, then one thing she was certain of was that he wouldn’t be relaxing at home for very long.
‘He’ll find a way to take part in defending his country by some other means,’ Jesse said, picking up on her thoughts. ‘John is a determined man and not one to let something like this hold him back.’
Florence knew Jesse was right and hoped that, whatever John ended up doing, it would be here in England. She thought of John’s young wife, still so recently a bride. ‘Margaret must be over the moon with this news,’ she said picturing John and his wife sitting together on a sofa, their baby due in only three months. ‘What a relief it must be for her to know he’ll be back home safe in time for his first child to be born.’ She could not have asked for more, Florence mused, happier than she had been in months. ‘And thank heavens he won’t be able to join up and return to the Front again.’
‘I dare say Margaret will be pleased.’ Jesse’s voice was soft as he addressed Florence. ‘I think we’re all grateful to receive good news after all the bad that’s reported each day. I sometimes wonder what my dear mother would think of this dreadful new way countries go to war with one another.’
‘I’m sure she would be as shocked as the rest of us.’ Florence thought back to a letter she had received the previous week from her sister-in-law, also called Florence, who was the mother of Florence’s two nephews, and frightened about her own boys joining up. ‘Too many young men are losing their lives or having their livelihood taken from them after being cruelly wounded. It’s all too devastating.’
Florence returned to her office and sat at her desk. It would soon be July and her birthday once again. Now she could plan for John to join in with the celebrations. This year though, for the first time in many years, she was not going to hold a grand party. She wasn’t able to return to Jersey to celebrate, which she often enjoyed doing. Florence decided that she would simply hold a small garden party for her family and close friends.
As she explained her idea to Miss Lightbody, she had a change of heart. ‘In fact, why don’t we hold a garden fête at Plaisaunce and open the event to th
e public.’ She was warming to the idea the more she thought about it. Her weekend home was in the perfect position on the riverside to give people a much-needed break from their daily worries. ‘Everyone needs something to cheer them up and Margery needs all the funds she can get to keep her canteen going. I’ll check your diary to see when you have a free day so that we can begin the arrangements.’
After a few minutes, Florence had agreed the day and, picking up her fountain pen, unscrewed the top and opened her current Boots Scribbling Diary. She loved the thought of how each New Year she would open her new diary and run her fingers down the length of the foolscap, marbled front page and wonder what events she would be writing into the diary’s pages over the following twelve months.
‘Seventeenth of July,’ she said, locating the right page. ‘Yes, we’ll hold a fête at Plaisaunce. We’ll go through names and make a list of people we want to invite. I always find that by including a few dignitaries in an event it gives them an incentive to invite their friends along. We’ll also let them know that all the proceeds will be going towards Margery’s canteen. I know people are generous with what funds they have and as this is helping my daughter give a little comfort to wounded soldiers on their way home then I’m sure they will be happy to come along and donate.’
‘Yes, Lady Boot. What stalls would you like to have at the fête?’
Florence gave it some thought. She had noticed her staff struggling more than ever and it worried her. The war was taking its toll on them all, she reasoned, determined to do whatever she could to help them.