by Deborah Carr
The tears in Margery’s eyes spilled over and down her cheeks. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘I might not be injured but I have my own demons from my time in France and I know that passing through your canteen was like a breath of fresh air for me and the men I was travelling with. So, yes, I do think what you do makes an enormous difference to these men.’ Florence watched as her son took his handkerchief from his top pocket, shook it out and dried his sister’s tears. It gripped her heart to see her oldest and youngest children comforting each other.
Little Barbara blew a raspberry and Florence widened her eyes at her granddaughter before tickling her, grateful to be able to do something so that her children didn’t notice how emotional their conversation had made her.
After a couple of minutes, Florence looked up and saw Margery watching baby Barbara. ‘How selfish of me,’ she said, shocked to think that she hadn’t given her daughter a chance to hold her niece. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She pulled a funny face at the toddler. ‘Do you want to go and sit on Aunt Margery’s knee now?’
The little girl turned her upper body towards Margery and held out her arms to be lifted up.
Florence watched as Margery carefully took the child in her arms and hugged her.
‘She’s so adorable.’ Margery said. She looked from her brother to her sister-in-law. ‘You’re both so lucky to have found each other. And especially now with this little tot.’
Florence wondered when Margery would fall in love and settle down. She hoped it would be soon and that it would be with someone living if not in Nottingham then somewhere not too far away. How incredible it would be, she thought, to be able to visit Margery on any day she chose just like she was able to do with Dorothy and John?
An hour later she and Margery were in the motorcar as Parry drove them to Dorothy’s home. Florence was looking forward to seeing baby Charity and trying to picture her when Margery turned from looking out of the motor car window.
‘I don’t think I ever told you that I met Meadows’s nephew soon after I arrived in France that first time.’ Florence shook her head. ‘It was when his train stopped at the station and he and other soldiers travelling with him were brought to the canteen for a bite to eat and some tea.’
‘Did you speak to him at all?’ Florence wondered if Meadows was aware that the two of them had met.
‘Yes.’ Margery laughed. ‘He was a little forlorn when he arrived but did perk up after a while. He told me that his uncle was a servant at my parents’ home in Nottingham.’
‘I’m pleased he looked you up when he arrived there. What was he like?’
Margery tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. ‘Quiet, but I don’t know if that is since he received his injuries or if that’s his personality. It’s difficult to tell sometimes. I could see hurt in his eyes.’ Margery sighed sadly. ‘I see that a lot but his seemed deeper somehow. I hope that when he’s had some rehabilitation, he’ll feel a lot better about his situation.’
‘Poor Meadows has been very concerned about him and also his sister. She was understandably upset when he was so badly hurt, but I think she’s mostly relieved he was able to return home at all.’
‘He was very dreadfully injured,’ Margery said quietly. ‘I’m not sure if Meadows or his sister will have been told the true extent of his injuries.’
Florence hated to think of Meadows having to deal with more than he already was. ‘Like what?’
‘I was speaking to his nurse and she said that it’s not just that he’s lost his leg, but they don’t think he’ll walk again and, apparently, there’s shrapnel in his brain that they were unable to reach.’
‘Did she mention the repercussions of leaving it there?’ Florence asked, willing her daughter to say something vaguely positive.
Margery looked away from her and Florence could see she was battling whether to divulge anything further from the conversation. ‘If it moves, even slightly, it could kill him.’
Florence exhaled sharply. ‘Oh, Margery, that poor boy. Should we say anything to Meadows? As a warning?’
Margery shook her head. ‘I’ve been contending with the same thought for days. The boy knows his prognosis and I believe it’s for him to tell his family if he chooses to do so. Not for us. After all, I’m not really supposed to know anything.’
As much as Florence felt guilty towards Meadows for not tipping him off about his nephew’s true medical condition, she understood that it wasn’t her place to say anything. ‘You’re right. Then, we must not repeat what we know, however desperate we are to tell Meadows.’
As difficult as it was probably going to be for Meadows’s nephew, at least he had a family, Florence decided. She wondered how men without families coped when they returned, having had to deal with so many changes. She knew that no matter what troubles she witnessed outside in the streets or the issues she was always working to resolve at the company, she was lucky enough to have her close family to return to. She hoped never to forget how blessed she was to have such a loving family. They had the joy of a new generation of Boot family members now and she and Jesse would always know that whatever successes they had or hadn’t attained, their biggest achievement would always be their family.
Coming across so many customers and staff who had suffered life-changing losses was always something that made Florence remember with gratitude how lucky she was to still have not only her husband by her side but also her three children. To think that while her family was growing others were having to contend with theirs being depleted… It broke her heart. How much longer would they all have to continue living with the constant threat of loss? She couldn’t see that this war would end any time soon but prayed that it wouldn’t be too long before things changed and all the men and women fighting away could return home and the death and injuries would stop.
After lunch at Dorothy’s, Florence had Parry dropped Margery back off at John and Margaret’s home, then made her way to the office to dictate a few letters to Gladys. It was a joy to have the girl back working with her even though each time Florence saw her she couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness that the kind young woman should now probably be welcoming a new baby into her life rather than having to get used to being a widow and losing the man she had loved so deeply.
She closed her eyes, reminding herself that she had a party to return home and start overseeing the preparations for. She had arranged a cake just large enough for a small slice for each of the family, guests and servants to enjoy. Florence would have loved to pay for an elaborate cake to be the centrepiece of their dining-room table but it didn’t seem right to do so knowing how much food had gone up in price and how the less wealthy people in Nottingham were struggling to find enough and having to queue each day for what they needed to feed their families.
Her and Jesse’s friends were aware that they did not drink alcohol and so she knew that none of them would be surprised that instead of toasting Jesse’s latest honour with champagne, their glasses would be filled with elderflower juice. When Florence had announced that Jesse was to be honoured by the King, Mrs Rudge had visited her in her study when they were arranging what food and drink to prepare for the party and had delighted Florence by telling her that she had been keeping a batch of elderflower cordial that she had made up the previous summer and been storing, hoping to use for some such celebration.
‘I hadn’t expected it to be this though, Lady Boot. I was hoping the war might have ended by now.’
Florence sighed. ‘That would be something worth celebrating. But in the absence of an Armistice, we at least have something to enjoy right now.’
Mrs Rudge had made up several large crystal jugs of her elderflower cordial together with a couple of jugs of dandelion and burdock that Jesse favoured. Apart from that, the rest of the food, Florence decided, would consist of cold meats and whatever salad they could source from their small vegetable garden and the nearest market. They had barely socialised since the start of the war. Neit
her of them had felt it right to do so unless they were entertaining their staff in some way or raising money for the war effort. Florence was grateful that they could afford food despite the increase in prices but never forgot that for many other families putting food on the table was a daily struggle.
Florence stood, a glass of Mrs Rudge’s elderflower cordial in one hand and the other on Jesse’s shoulder, watching as John took the floor to give the toast to his father.
‘Father,’ John said, smiling proudly and giving his father a slight bow. ‘Or should I address you now as Sir Jesse Boot, Baronet of Wilford, in the County of Nottingham?’
The guests cheered and sang out their congratulations once again to Jesse. Florence stepped forward to take a look at her husband’s beaming face as he sat in his cane bath chair. He seemed so happy, not only, she knew, to have such an accolade bestowed upon him, but also to have his three children and their families and friends here to celebrate the special occasion with him at St Heliers.
Jesse raised his hand when John had finished addressing the party. ‘Thank you to my son for his kind words. I’d like to thank my darling wife, Florence, without whose hard work, love and support, I’m sure I would not have received this recognition by the King. Thank all of you for coming here and celebrating with me today. I’m deeply grateful to have this honour of a baronetcy bestowed on me.’ An invisible hand clutched at Florence’s heart as she listened to her beloved husband speak.
‘When I think back to my life as a young boy, walking mile after mile with my mother to collect herbs for our fledgling business, in my bare feet to keep my only pair of leather shoes in the best condition possible for chapel on Sunday, I can hardly believe how my life has altered beyond all recognition. I am truly blessed. With that in mind I’d like to raise a toast to the King and all his brave subjects, both the men and women abroad –’ he looked at Margery and smiled proudly – ‘and everyone here striving to keep Britain supplied with all that she needs.’
He raised his glass. ‘To the King and his subjects, wherever they may be.’
‘The King and his subjects,’ the rest of them cheered as they lifted their glasses before taking a sip and congratulating him once more.
Florence stepped forward to kiss Jesse on his cheek. ‘Shall we eat?’
She took hold of Jesse’s hand briefly before leaving him to chat and receive congratulatory wishes from his guests. She walked over to John’s side and rested a hand lightly on his back. ‘That was a lovely toast you gave for your father, thank you.’
John looked past her to watch his father enjoying the attention he was being given. ‘I’m very proud of him, Mother. And you. When I think how much you’ve both achieved it astounds me.’ He leant forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘This is a special day and I’m so happy that Margery and I could make it back here to enjoy it with you both.’
‘As are we, my dear boy.’
Florence left her guests and walked through the hall, through the green baize door and down the stairs to the back of the house where the servants worked in the warren of rooms reserved for them. She could hear the chatter as she neared their sitting room past the kitchen and smiled. It was good to know that they were happy for Jesse, too.
She walked into the kitchen. Suddenly, spotting her, Mrs Rudge stood up from the chair where she was making notes in a book. ‘Lady Boot, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I was miles away updating my food order book.’
Florence shook her head. ‘Please, it’s fine. I only came to thank you for your delicious cordial.’
Mrs Rudge’s pink cheeks reddened even further. ‘You enjoyed it?’
‘I certainly did, as did Sir Jesse. You’ve surpassed yourself, Cook. Thank you. Please, also thank the servants for all their hard work. I hope they enjoy their treats this evening that you’ve made them.’ She thought of the cake that Mrs Rudge would hand out to each of them after their supper, later.
‘They will, I’m sure, Lady Boot.’
Florence tilted her head towards the clock on the wall. ‘Well, I had better return to my guests and I don’t want to disturb the servants while they’re taking a moment to relax in the sitting room. Please thank them for me for all their hard work today, will you?’
‘Yes, Lady Boot, I’ll be happy to.’
Florence left the kitchen aware how lucky she was to still have so many of her staff working for her at St Heliers House. Apart from her lady’s maid Harriet and Jesse’s male nurse George, they had five other household staff and a driver. They had lost one kitchen maid and an under-housemaid, but she had managed to replace them after a week or so.
As she made her way up the stairs and through the baize door back to her guests Florence wondered what her younger self would have thought if she had been told that she would move on from sharing a bedroom with her sister Amy above the shop at 27 Queen Street to this huge brick house with its round conservatory, large garden and squash courts – and become the wife of a Baronet. She was amused, certain the younger Florence wouldn’t have believed her and would have accused her of having read too many novels.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Jesse called, happy to see her. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you to cut the cake.’
The cake! How could she have forgotten that they still needed to cut it?
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, reaching him and giving him a quick hug. ‘I forgot and went to thank Cook for all her hard work.’
‘Shall we do it now then?’
Florence laughed. ‘We should if we want people to have a taste before they leave.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
March 1917
Florence sat in her conservatory making the most of the watery March sunshine before going upstairs to check on Jesse, who was having an afternoon rest. The cold weather had caused him to come down with a chill and she wasn’t taking any chances or accepting any argument from him. She had refused to allow him to travel to inspect several of their stores and factories for the past week, insisting he either stay and work from his study at St Heliers, or go direct to his warm office in the Pelham Street store.
Today, the weather was stormy and very wet and Florence had no intention of allowing him to leave the house at all although she did intend going to visit John’s wife Margaret, who had given birth to their second daughter, Jocelyne Mary, at the beginning of the previous month.
‘There’s nothing needing your attention so badly that it can’t wait until tomorrow or the next day,’ she had insisted when she caught him with his coat on and being taken out to the car by Meadows.
‘How can you be so certain of that?’ he asked, an amused glint in his eyes.
Florence could tell he was up to something but knew by the look on his face that it wasn’t anything he was ready to share with her. She didn’t mind, she knew well enough that Jesse would tell her whatever it was when he felt the timing was right. At least it seemed to be something that was cheering him rather than concerning him.
‘Just this once, I insist you do as I ask,’ she said, motioning for George to come out from where he was standing by the front door. ‘George will take you back inside, where you’re to spend the day resting in the warmth of your study. I’ll go over to the store later and can bring home any paperwork that needs looking at, but that’s all.’
Jesse opened his mouth to argue but Florence waved her finger at him. ‘No, Jesse. Most days, I sit back and let you do as you wish, because I know you’ll only waste time arguing with me. However, today is not one of those days. I have no intention of sitting back and watching you leave the house for the day when you’re still under the weather.’
He must be feeling unwell, she thought, when his reply was a gentle shrug and he asked Meadows to settle him in his study.
Florence rang the bell and when Ethel came through asked her to check Jesse’s fire and to bring both of them some tea. She then made herself comfortable facing her bare garden. Florence loved the brightness of
the spring and summer flowers but at this time of year there was extraordinarily little of note to gaze upon outside.
Her mind drifted once more, and she thought again of John and Margaret’s new baby daughter. ‘Jocelyne Mary,’ she repeated to herself a few times. Another pretty name. She was relieved that John was near home, hopefully for the next few months, to spend time with his wife and newborn baby daughter, unlike so many other men whose lives had been cut short in the past couple of months.
She wondered for a moment what it was that Jesse wasn’t sharing with her. As far as she knew, he shared most things. She knew he was worn out from all the extra work the company had been carrying out producing alternatives to sedatives and antiseptics to send to other companies who were under contract with the British Fire Prevention Committee, as well as rushing to launch the new water-sterilising tablets for the British Forces.
Florence was feeling a little down because of her own problems at work. She wished that she wasn’t losing so many of her female staff just when she needed them most. She didn’t like saying goodbye to those girls who had come to work for Boots directly from school and whom she knew a little better than the rest, like Pearl Smith, a bubbly girl always ready with a funny story. Florence had always thought that if the girl had been born closer to London’s West End she would have probably ended up going on the stage. When it came time to bid goodbye to Pearl and three others in her section that were leaving Florence could see that she wasn’t the only one to be sad about losing a popular member of staff.
It worried her more than usual that most of them were being lured by higher wages to work in the Chilwell Arms Factory, especially because the job was so dangerous. She had heard from several of them when she had seen them in town and chatted to them asking how their new work was going that the risk of explosion in the factory were so high that the workers had to change into boiler suits and wear rubber boots and a hat as soon as they arrived.