Mrs Boots

Aware that Albert’s mother and her own must have been speaking about the event, she tried not to show her annoyance. ‘Albert and I were attending the concert with a group of friends. My cancellation would not have bothered him at all. In fact, he came to the shop this morning and asked me to join him and some friends at another event. He didn’t appear at all upset by my earlier lack of attendance.’

Her mother appeared slightly appeased at this news. ‘And are you going?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Albert is a good man and one who will, I feel certain, make a good husband to the right woman.’

Florence wished her mother give up on her hopes for Albert as a son-in-law. Yes, he knew how to run a shop, he was also a good family friend, but even if she had not met Jesse and become fascinated by him, Florence knew that she would never see Albert as a husband –whatever hopes her mother and his held for them both.

Her mother sighed heavily. This matter was obviously weighing on her mind, Florence realised. She also knew that the issue with Albert wasn’t all that was behind this enforced conversation, but her correspondence with Jesse.

‘And the letters to and from Mr Boot?’ her mother asked, proving Florence’s suspicions correct. ‘Am I to understand that there is a closeness forming between you and that gentleman?’

Florence was aware that her answer to the question would have to be considered carefully. She didn’t relish the prospect of having to deal with her mother’s disapproval on a daily basis.

‘He is a very pleasant man, as you and Father know, and I have enjoyed his company immensely.’ She tried to resist, but was unable to help adding, ‘You seem to hold issue with him for some reason. May I ask why that is?’

Her mother seeming to tire, and sat on the nearest chair. Florence thought it might be to give herself a little time to temper her words before she spoke them.

‘Mr Boot is, indeed, a pleasant man. Your father thinks very highly of him and I am aware that you are also becoming fond of him. However, Florence, it can’t have escaped your notice that not only is he older than you by at least a dozen years—’ she paused for effect ‘—but also that the man is infirm.’

Florence’s heart pounded faster as she battled to keep her temper. She loved and respected her mother, but she was twenty-three and a woman who had always held her own opinions. She could not bear to hear criticism against Jesse.

‘I believe his age is what makes him more interesting in conversation. He has coped with many difficulties, and, yes, some of those are health related. However, it hasn’t stopped him from working hard each day and building up a successful business with his mother, has it?’

‘Maybe not, but I wish you would take care not to become too involved.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Florence had to work hard to hide her rising anger.

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her. ‘You are not a silly girl, Florence. I believe you know perfectly well that I am referring to your future hopes for Mr Boot. And, if you are not, then I am unsure why you are writing to him with such regularity.’

Florence knew that her mother was only surmising at the speed at which she replied to Jesse’s letters. It wasn’t unreasonable for her to assume that in all probability he would only be writing in reply to a letter she had sent.

‘I write to him because he is my friend and I enjoy hearing from him. I believe he feels the same. He was entranced by Jersey and was unhappy that his visit had been cut short.’

She watched her mother consider her words and eventually her tense expression eased slightly. ‘Then I believe you need to take care not to encourage the man, Florence. Men can at times see interest in a woman where there may be none.’

‘Mother,’ Florence replied, wishing to be left with her own thoughts, ‘Mr Boot has given me no reason to suspect he has any interest in me.’

Her mother didn’t look convinced. ‘I heard you refer to him as Jesse. He must have invited you to address him as such.’

‘He did,’ she admitted. ‘He is only interested in my friendship; I can assure you of that.’

She was being honest and barely let herself wish that there was more between them. Maybe it was because he was so different to her and any other man she had ever met that her interest in him was so great. Maybe it was something else, but that wasn’t something she wished to discuss with her mother.

They heard the bell in the shop and the distant voice of their current postman.

‘You will want to go and check the mail, I shouldn’t wonder,’ her mother said sarcastically.

Florence bit back a retort. She wasn’t used to being rude to either of her parents and didn’t wish to start now. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said, determined to ignore her mother’s comment. ‘I’m also awaiting a delivery for some new art books that I thought might be suitable for the shop.’

‘I’ll let you go then,’ her mother said, seemingly mollified by Florence’s answer.

Forgetting her lunch break, Florence hurried downstairs to the shop. Her father was wrapping a parcel for a customer, so she made the most of the opportunity and sorted through the few packets and letters that had just been delivered.

Unable to help herself, Florence smiled at the sight of the familiar writing on one of the envelopes. Hopefully now she would be able to find out what Jesse thought of her improvements to her father’s shop.

She picked up the envelope and pushed it deep into her skirt pocket. She didn’t need her father to begin asking questions; it had been bad enough having to answer her mother’s.

The customer left and her father turned his attention to the post. ‘Anything of interest this morning?’

‘Nothing very much, no,’ she said lifting one of the small trunks. ‘I’ll take these through to the back and unpack them.’

She had to resist the temptation to run into the storeroom and walked sedately as her father followed behind her. She did not wish to give him reason to suspect anything; it was unlike her to be secretive but Florence felt she had little choice.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_d81a2606-851e-526a-8f22-bf62adb77ae3)

16–20 Goose Gate

Nottingham

14 September 1885

Miss Florence Rowe

27 Queen Street

St Helier

Jersey

My dear Florence,

It was wonderful to receive your most recent letter and to be able to now address you by your first name.

I was delighted for you that your father agreed to try out your plans for the shop display and am not surprised that they were a success. You have a natural instinct for retail, it seems, and I am glad that you are able to express your ideas at Rowe’s Stationers.

It is not often that I have come into contact with a friend who holds the same interest as I when it comes to my work, and although our businesses cater for the different needs of the populous, we do, it seems, share the same wish to satisfy their needs.

I am brought to mind of a customer from some years ago. She was a young mother with a sickly child. She had already lost three of her infants to various ailments and was panic-stricken that she would also lose this child. Like a lot of people in the poorer areas of the town, she did not have the funds to pay for a doctor, but came to my Goose Gate store, desperate for help. I was lucky to have the means to help and took her to the back of the shop to my mother who gave the woman the herbs needed to assist the child.

We still took payment, because we were too concerned about setting a precedent not to, but only took what she could afford. Not having any children, I could only imagine how terrified she must have felt having to find a way to keep her child alive. I can still sometimes hear her panicked voice and can recall the fear on her face. I decided there and then to find a way to provide health to my customers for the cost of a shilling.

Enough talk of business. This is a letter to a friend and, as mentioned in my previous letter, I am planning once again to visit your beautiful island. I believe that should matters go according to plan, that I will be able to travel to Jersey at the end of September. I would therefore be grateful if you could possibly agree to accompany me on outings, so that I may explore further the bays and interests that I was unable to enjoy during my previous holiday.

Work is, as always, busy, but satisfying. Last year I took on my first pharmacist, a Mr Edwin Waring. I had the idea to do this after a change in the law at the start of this decade that allowed limited companies to sell poisons and dispense prescription medicines. Mr Waring is a young man of 27 years and his hard work and vision has helped me make the move into the dispensing business for my company. With him at Goose Gate, we have halved the cost of prescription drugs and updated the packaging.

As a retailer I am sure you can see that this has not made me very popular, but it has made medicines more affordable to the public and that, to me, is a vital necessity. My father believed that everyone deserves the best healthcare possible and it is something that I have continued to work towards since his, and now my mother’s, death. Customers should not receive preferential treatment simply because they have the means to pay more than others. My aim is that medical aid is available to all, no matter where they stand in society, or where they live in the country.