by Deborah Carr
Florence listened to their reassurances and immediately felt slightly soothed. ‘Thank you. You both make good sense.’
Florence enjoyed the service and seeing friends and acquaintances they hadn’t had contact with for the past few months. Afterwards, as they drove from church, they passed the marketplace. Florence was deep in thought about how strange the day seemed.
‘Look at all those people,’ Margery said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Florence gazed over the crowds to see a motorcade of what she assumed were wounded soldiers drawing close. ‘Oh, my word,’ she said, startled to see a mob surge towards them. She couldn’t speak for a moment for the lump in her throat. ‘Look, Jesse, the people are wanting to shake their hands.’
She listened as church bells rang all around. All she could think of was the many young men who hadn’t made it home and how their families must be grieving for them. The emotion of the day was becoming a little too much. She longed for a few quiet moments in her room to gather her thoughts.
Jesse reached out to her. ‘I think we’re all a little war-weary.’
She forced a smile, touched by his words and that he had sensed how she was feeling.
‘The mayor has given everyone permission to turn the lights back on. We can take down our blinds tonight,’ Margery said, her cheerful voice sounding a little forced. ‘Won’t that be something?’
It would, Florence thought. If Margery could put on a brave face, then so must she. ‘It will be,’ she said as cheerfully as she could manage. She longed to see street lamps lit and walk past neighbouring houses in The Park and see lights shining onto the street from their living rooms. It brought the area so much more alive to see golden light shining onto the pavements outside.
Despite her sadness at the loss of so many young souls, Florence couldn’t help being cheered by Margery’s enthusiasm for life. She decided she needed to find that in herself once again. It really would not do to bring everyone’s mood down with her own morose thoughts.
‘Mother, did you know that food restrictions have been lifted, too? Cook was telling me all about it when I went to speak to her earlier this morning.’
This was good news, Florence thought, her mood lifting slightly. ‘They have? I’m so pleased.’ She pictured the delight on Cook’s face and then realised that even if restrictions were lifted the scarcity of supplies would probably mean that households would not eat much more than they had become used to doing since rations began.
‘Yes, apparently butchers are to be allowed to sell turkeys and other poultry, like geese, ducks and chickens. Game too. And no need for food vouchers.’ She laughed. ‘Cook is beside herself with excitement. She said she’s going to make sure we all have a Christmas worth remembering this year.’
Florence sighed. It was good news. ‘Good. This will be our first proper Christmas since 1913.’ She thought back to that joyous day when each of them had believed that their small worries were all that would trouble them. How different they all must feel now and how much each of them had grown and learned about life.
The previous day, she had returned home and stared out of the car window at the Victory banners in red, white and blue declaring that war was over and that victory was theirs. It was a huge relief to her. As happy as Florence was to see the end of the fighting, she could not forget those whose lives had been changed forever and were now having to learn to live with loss. What about those others, she thought, here in Nottingham and everywhere else in the United Kingdom, who were alone having lost loved ones to the dreaded flu? Her heart ached for all the troubled souls.
She knew she was lucky to have only lost one family member with Willie’s death earlier that year, and prayed each day that none of her family, servants or staff would succumb to the flu. It was a worrying time, but Florence wanted to put on a brave face. It would be selfish of her to let her low spirits bring down those who needed so desperately to make the most of the celebrations.
She needed to pull herself together and buck up. Florence knew that the moods of those in the rest of the house were influenced by how she was feeling. It was down to her to boost them and help them feel positive, especially now they finally had something to be joyful about.
‘We’re going to make the most of being at peace, with the entire family here at St Heliers House,’ she declared with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
‘I can’t wait,’ Margery said. ‘Why don’t we sit down now and make lists of all the food we’re going to have to ask Cook to order? Then we can plan what presents we will need to buy for everyone, especially the little ones.’ She beamed at Florence. ‘Isn’t it exciting to have little ones to celebrate with this Christmas, Mother?’
Florence felt a warm glow course through her chest. ‘It is.’
‘I wonder when I’ll be married and able to bring my own children here for Christmas,’ Margery said thoughtfully. ‘I’m in no rush to give up my independence but I don’t want to wait too long to have a family of my own.’
Her daughter’s words reminded Florence of her own wish to be independent when she was young and working for her father in his stationery store in Jersey. How differently her life had turned out, she thought, smiling to herself, and how much better it had been than she could have ever dared dream.
That afternoon, Florence took up a cup of tea to Jesse’s room where he was supposed to be having a nap. She opened the door quietly, not wishing to disturb him, and was surprised to see him sitting up in bed reading paperwork. He looked over the top of the file in his hand, a guilty look on his face. She frowned at him as she placed the cup and saucer down onto his bedside table.
‘You’re supposed to be resting.’
‘I know, but I wasn’t sleepy and knew I had these figures to go through.’
Florence sat down on the edge of his bed. ‘And what figures are those?’
He sighed heavily. ‘They’re the list of all the members of Boots staff whom we lost during the war.’
Florence’s sadness for the people of Nottingham returned. ‘Oh, Jesse.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t quite believe how many there are, Florence.’ His gaze dropped to the names and figures on the page in his hands.
Florence didn’t ask any questions. She knew Jesse would speak when he was ready, but she could see he was trying to bring himself to read out what was typed in front of him. He cleared his throat. ‘Three hundred and thirty employees were lost over the past four years, my dear. Far too many. It says here that one hundred and twenty-five of the men were from our offices and works, and the other two hundred and five from Boots stores.’ He looked at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. ‘So many young lives lost, Florence. It really is too heart-breaking.’
It was. She leant forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. She was sad that they couldn’t hold hands properly any longer now his were very misshapen, but Florence could see that Jesse needed the comfort of her hands around his. They sat silently for a few minutes, both trying to come to terms with the loss of so many men. There would not be any celebratory Christmases for those men or their families, this or any other year.
She closed her eyes, unable to push away the emotion that seemed to fill her every nerve.
‘I don’t think the people of this country will ever recover from what this past four years has put them through,’ she said, aware that although they had lost many staff it was those men’s families who suffered the most. ‘How will we all come back from this?’
He didn’t answer but shook his head sadly. ‘I have no idea.’
Neither did she. Florence thought of those who had lost loved ones. ‘We are so much luckier than most,’ she said, thinking of her three children back at home in Nottingham with them once more. ‘Our children have all survived and come back to us, and I’m incredibly grateful.’
‘I am, too.’
Florence thought of something she kept hearing in the shop. ‘They’re saying this is t
he war to end all wars. I hope they’re right.’
‘As do I, my dear.’
Then it occurred to her exactly what she needed to do. ‘Jesse?’
‘Yes, dearest.’
‘We have to do what we’ve always done.’
Jesse frowned. ‘And what’s that?’
‘We have to lead by example. From tomorrow, after we’ve celebrated the Armistice with our family, we are going to sit down and plan how best to take our business forward.’
‘We are?’
‘Yes. What this country needs now is hope for the future and we’re going to do our best to give it to them,’ she said. She had spent four years doing her bit for the war effort; it was now time for her to make the most of the country being at peace.
He smiled and shook his head. ‘And how exactly do you propose we do that?’
Florence sighed. ‘I’m not certain right now, but I know we’ll think of something.’
THE END
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Don’t miss An Island at War, the next unforgettable historical novel from Deborah Carr, following the story of two sisters separated by war when Nazi Germany invades and occupies the Channel Islands.
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Get your copy here!
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
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Firstly, I want to thank you for choosing to read one of my books. I’ve loved writing this series about Florence’s life and hope you enjoy reading the next instalment in Mrs Boots Goes to War.
In this book Florence’s children are now adults and John and Dorothy are married and having families of their own. Florence always wanted to be as supportive to those around her as she possibly could, and so when the war came to Britain, Florence realised that the people of Nottingham needed her, and she wasn’t going to let them down.
The Boots family certainly was remarkable and researching Florence’s life, or at least her life until the end of the First World War, was fascinating. There was so much more to her than I could have ever envisaged when I first stepped into her world and there was much more to her life in the years after the war. For now, though, I hope you’ve enjoyed joining her and discovering how she dealt with those traumatic war years that destroyed so many lives and ended with the onset of the Spanish Flu.
We know that Florence was a fighter and did not give up easily, and to me she was truly inspirational. Her strength and determination helped me focus on writing this book when I was separated by my two grown up children and my mother living across the world when our countries were in lockdown. It was – and unfortunately, as I write this – still is a strange and stressful time, but we all find our own ways of dealing with the situation. I’m grateful to have had Florence’s life to lose myself in and hope that reading this book might help you to escape for a few hours.
I send out monthly newsletters, and if you want to subscribe please do so here: deborahcarr.org/newsletter.
Happy reading. Stay safe.
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Best wishes,
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Deborah x
Acknowledgments
Firstly, I must thank my amazing husband, Robert Carr. Not only is he one of my biggest supporters, but he’s always on hand to help with research and cook supper. Also, my children, James and Saskia, and my enormous family who encourage me to follow my writing dreams and never mind when my thoughts are with my characters.
I couldn’t have done this without the amazing team at HarperCollins’ One More Chapter. I’ve learnt an enormous amount from each of you. Thank you, and thanks to Lucy Bennett for yet another beautiful cover.
My Mrs Boots series would not be what it is without my incredible editor, Emily Ruston. Thank you for your dedication and brilliant suggestions, I continue to learn so much from you.
My grateful thanks to Tony Russell for his brilliant copyedits.
I still recall how nervous I was to meet Florence’s great-granddaughter, Allison Barrington, her daughter, Heidi Lewis, and granddaughter, Lara Lewis, whose delight that Florence’s story had inspired this series, gave me the confidence to sit down and write these three books.
Once again, I was able to make use of information I had gleaned from my visit with Claire Fenby to the Boots Archive in Nottingham, and for that I must again thank Sophie Clapp and Judith Wright, Boots Archivists for all their help.
Not forgetting Michele Leerson, Linda Romeril, and Stuart Nicolle from the Jersey Archive, especially Toni Wolstenholme, whose wonderful last name I borrowed for one of the characters in Mrs Boots, thinking I had made up the name myself when, in fact, I had borrowed it from her. Thank you.
To Glynis Peters, Christie Barlow, and Terri Nixon, three amazingly talented authors who make me laugh, give me advice, and generally make sure that each writing day is filled with fun. Also, to Christina Jones, Karen Clarke, Bella Osborne, Noelle Holten, Phillipa Ashley, Maddy Please, John Jackson, Laura Carter, and my fellow Blonde Plotters, Kelly Clayton, and Gwyn GB, two great friends who, thanks to the strange times we’re living through, I haven’t been able to see this past year nearly as much as I’d like.
Thanks, too, to all the generous bloggers who support writers with blog tours, reviews and sharing writing news, especially Rachel Gilbey, Sarah Hardy, Adele (Kraftireader), and Anne Williams, and a special shout out to Trisha Hayward and Fee Roberts.
Finally, to you, dear reader. Thank you for reading Mrs Boots Goes to War. I hope you enjoy discovering how Florence dealt with the First World War and spending time with her as much as I did.
Thank you for reading…
We hope you enjoyed Mrs Boots Goes to War!
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Do leave a review if so on all your preferred platforms to help spread the word!
Don’t miss An Island at War, the next unforgettable historical novel from Deborah Carr, following the story of two sisters separated by war when Nazi Germany invades and occupies the Channel Islands.
Get your copy here!
And catch up on her previous books by clicking on the links below!
In The Poppy Field young nurse Gemma is struggling with the traumas she has witnessed through her job. Needing to escape from it all, she agrees to help renovate a rundown farmhouse in Doullens, France, a town near the Somme. There, in a boarded-up cupboard, wrapped in old newspapers, is a tin that reveals the secret letters and heartache of Alice Le Breton, a young volunteer nurse who worked in a casualty clearing station near the front line.
Set in the present day and during the horrifying years of WWI, both women discover deep down the strength and courage to carry on in even the most difficult of times.
Get your copy right here!
Be sure to follow Deborah Carr on Twitter @DebsCarr, on Facebook @DeborahCarrAuthor and check out her website at deborahcarr.org for all the updates on her latest work.
You will also love…
In the mood for even more effervescent fiction?
You will adore The English Wife by Adrienne Chinn, a timeless story of love, sacrifice and resilience set between a war bride travelling to be with her lost love in Newfoundland in the wake of the victory bells of VE Day and the estranged niece who seeks her out six decades later when her plane is grounded on the island on September 11th 2001.
Get your copy here!
You will also love The Night Train to Berlin by Melanie Hudson, an epic historical romance following two pairs of lost souls brought together by the chaos of war, from a sleeper train winding its way to a hidden Cornish cove in present-day England to the blood-soaked beaches of Normandy in June 1944.
Get your copy here!
And don’t miss Before the Crown by Flora Harding, which immortalises the story of the secret engagement between Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip in the tempestuous wake of WWII.
Get your copy here!
Happy reading!
Deborah Carr lives on the island of Jersey in the Channel Islands with her husband, two children, and three rescue dog
s. She became interested in books set in WW1 when researching her grandfather’s time as a cavalryman in the 17th 21st Lancers.
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She is part of ‘The Blonde Plotters’ writing group and was Deputy Editor on the online review site, Novelicious.com. Her debut historical romance, Broken Faces, is set in WW1 and was runner-up in the 2012 Good Housekeeping Novel Writing Competition and given a ‘special commendation’ in the Harry Bowling Prize that year. The Poppy Field is her second historical novel and a USA Today bestseller.
deborahcarr.org
Also by Deborah Carr
The Mrs Boots Series
Mrs Boots
Mrs Boots of Pelham Street
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Standalones
The Poppy Field
An Island at War
About the Publisher
Australia
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Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
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Canada
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