Deborah Carr - Mrs Boots

He took hold of both his jacket lapels and stared at her. ‘You have a good head for business, Florence, especially for a woman.’

His comment jarred on her. She knew he didn’t mean to be unkind but was aware he would never say such a thing to her brother Willie. However, she mused, she couldn’t help being pleased with his compliment, no matter how backhanded it might be.

‘I will allow you to leave it that way for a week and if it doesn’t make any difference to the sales then you’ll need to move it back to where it was.’

After rearranging the table and redoing the display, Florence was too tired to reply to Jesse. So, it wasn’t until the end of the following day that she was able to do so. She didn’t mind because this time she had something exciting to tell him. It would be interesting to see what he thought of her idea in the shop and the results after only one day. Would he be impressed with her acumen? She hoped so. He seemed to treat her almost like an equal already in other matters, and for him to see her as something other than a lightheaded woman would please her very much.

27 Queen Street

St Helier

Jersey

10 September 1885

Mr J Boot

16–20 Goose Gate

Nottingham

Dear Jesse,

Thank you for your most recent letter and, yes, I am happy for you to address me by my first name and I shall, as you see from the beginning of this letter, address you in the same way.

I am very much looking forward to your second holiday here. I was wondering if you would be interested in visiting some of the local shops? We have two large stores, A De Gruchy and Voisin and Company. They are probably the closest to the large stores in your area and I thought that you might find them of interest. Please do not think I shall be offended if you would rather not go to them. I understand that you will be taking time off work and probably will not be wishing to think of such things during your holiday.

There is an interesting adaptation by Mr D’Oyly Carte’s Opera Company of Patience at the Theatre Royal in Gloucester Street. I went to see the show with my sister Amy and a few friends last night. I shall look at the theatre’s programme when I know the dates of your visit and if there is something in it that I believe might interest you, I shall let you know.

The shop has been very busy over the past few days. Father has allowed me to move one of the display tables that was at the back of the shop forward to the front. He only agreed because I kept asking and assuring him that we would sell more books if I made the changes to the shop. To be honest I wasn’t entirely certain that it would work, but I thought it worth a try, and, lo and behold, it did work, and we doubled the sales for those books today. I have to admit that I was very happy that my idea was successful. So was my father, although he didn’t say as much.

I look forward to hearing from you again.

Very best wishes,

Yours sincerely, your good friend,

Florence Rowe

The following days passed slowly. Florence was at a loss to how different she felt about her days. Until meeting Mr Boot, or Jesse, as she still was trying to get used to calling him, she had been carefree and excited to attend concerts, go on outings and generally spend her free time with her friends. Since her days out with him and then his subsequent departure, she seemed only to work and wait for the postman to bring the mail, and then, if his delivery did not include a letter from Jesse, her day was marred and grey.

She glanced up at the wall clock above the counter in the shop for the twentieth time that morning, willing the time to pass until the postman’s arrival.

‘What is so urgent that you keep staring at that clock all the time?’ her father asked, his right index finger placed on his account book where to hold his place in his additions. ‘Is there somewhere you wish to be?’

Embarrassed to have been caught out, she shook her head. ‘Do you think the post is a little late today?’

He was about to answer when the door opened, and the brass bell announced a customer’s arrival. Forgetting his conversation with Florence, he focused his attention on serving the lady and her daughter who were looking for a birthday present for an acquaintance. Florence couldn’t help noticing that the lady appeared almost tearful and waited to see if she needed to provide the lady with a glass of water.

‘I’ve brought Mother here to distract her,’ the younger woman announced. ‘My brother and his wife left the island yesterday to emigrate to New Zealand.’ The older woman sniffed before dabbing her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief.

‘I’m sorry to hear your son has chosen to leave Jersey,’ her father said, ‘but I’ve known of quite a few people over the past few years to take advantage of the offer of free passage for a chance to own their own land and start a new life there. I feel sure his prospects are good.’

‘I’ll miss him terribly though, Mr Rowe.’

‘Yes,’ her father said sympathetically. ‘That is understandable.’

‘This is a second family member to travel to the other side of the world,’ she said, blowing her nose. ‘My uncle and his family left for Australia about thirty years ago when I was a girl. That was due to the gold rush, but we’ve lost contact with them over time.’

‘I’m certain you won’t lose contact with your son. He is a fine man. Many times he came here to find small gifts for you, as well as sourcing his own stationery items.’

Florence wondered if she could ever move from Jersey. It wasn’t something she had thought about much before, but having discovered more about Nottingham recently, it was occurring to her more and more that if she truly wanted to, she could embark on a new life away from the island. The thought excited her. She might think of herself as a modern woman, but was she brave enough to move away from here and start up a business elsewhere? She wasn’t certain, but it was something she was determined to consider.

‘He loved visiting this shop, Mr Rowe,’ the woman explained.

Florence was relieved that the lady’s attention had been diverted and immediately reverted to tidying the displays, relieved for the interruption. This letter was even more important than the others, she mused. She knew it probably shouldn’t matter, but she felt the need for his approval of her changes to her father’s shop that she had described to him in her most recent correspondence. For some reason, his reaction meant more to her than she had at first presumed.

A few minutes later the bell jangled once more and looking up, Florence saw Albert greet her father as he quickly made his way over to her.

‘I shan’t be long,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder at her father. ‘A few of us are buying tickets to attend a musical concert at the Royal Yacht Hotel. I thought you and Amy might like to join us. I think it will be a popular evening and we will need to purchase the tickets before they sell out.’ He glanced at her father once again. ‘It will be good to see you again, Florence. We’ve missed your company lately.’

Florence couldn’t help feeling guilty. She had declined several outings with her friends and even cancelled going to a recital the previous week. She hadn’t liked to let them down, but since Jesse’s departure, she hadn’t felt much like socialising. ‘Yes, I’d very much like to join you. Thank you, Albert.’

‘Will you ask Amy for me if she would also like to come along?’

‘Yes, I will, but I’m certain she will want to join us, so do please buy her a ticket when you purchase mine.’