Deborah Carr - Mrs Boots

One More Chapter

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2020

Copyright © Deborah Carr 2020

Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2020

Cover images © Richard Jenkins Photography

Deborah Carr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008363314

Ebook Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008363307

Version: 2019-11-12

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Mrs Boots DEBORAH CARR

Copyright One More Chapter a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2020 Copyright © Deborah Carr 2020 Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2020 Cover images © Richard Jenkins Photography Deborah Carr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008363314 Ebook Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008363307 Version: 2019-11-12

About This Book

Dedication I’d like to dedicate this book to Florence Boot and to all strong women who help others to recognise the best in themselves

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Author Note

Acknowledgements

Also by Deborah Carr

About the Author

About the Publisher

This ebook meets all accessibility requirements and standards.

I’d like to dedicate this book to Florence Boot and to all strong women who help others to recognise the best in themselves

Florence Rowe waved at Emile, the boarder from the chemist at number 29 who had raised his hat in a friendly salute. As usual at this time of day, Queen Street was bustling with shoppers and shop assistants out on their errands. She didn’t mind waiting for her good friend, Albert, to finish wrapping the packet of tea she had been sent to buy for her father’s stationer’s shop, which was situated between the chemist and the tea merchants. She loved her job in her father’s shop, on the bustling street, but it was always nice to step away for a few minutes to catch up with Albert’s news and share her own with him.

‘I had a customer in here yesterday,’ he said, tidying away the small weights he had used to calculate the correct amount of tea leaves. ‘He’s an artist from Birmingham. He came to the island last week to stay with relatives for the rest of the summer. He was telling me that it was reported in his local newspapers about a poor young woman on a roof.’

‘Sorry,’ Florence asked, confused. She was used to Albert’s catastrophising, but this story was a little odd. ‘What did you say?’

‘Someone heard screams in the middle of the night.’

‘Where, here?’

‘No, in Kidderminster.’

Florence realised she had no idea what Albert was talking about. ‘Maybe you should start again. From the beginning.’

‘The artist told me that just before he came to the island he read about a local woman, a young lady somnambulist, dressed only in her night clothes. She was still asleep when she climbed out of an upstairs window and onto the roof of her family home.’

‘How do your customers come to share such stories with you.’ She was struggling not to giggle. ‘They only come in to buy tea.’

‘Maybe they can see that I need a little drama in my life.’ A customer entered the shop just then and Albert lowered his voice and added, ‘We’ve been friends since we were children, Florence; can you remember a time when we had something worth being excited about?’

‘Apart from going to the theatre, or such like?’ she asked, not wishing him to become maudlin, which he could, if she ever let him.

‘Yes, those outings are fun, but not like the story the artist told me.’

Florence was always fascinated by Albert’s latest intrigue. Her father wouldn’t entertain the newspapers being read in their home. His only connection to them was caused by necessity when he advertised his stationer’s, W. H. Rowe. Albert was her connection to the sensational stories printed in them. He loved discovering the latest dramas occurring on the island and she loved that he took time to share them with her. She wasn’t sure though if it was the stories themselves, or his dramatised account of them.

‘Was she all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes, thankfully,’ Albert continued. ‘The girl’s father and a police constable threw a rope up to her. They managed to rescue her before she fell headlong to her death.’

Florence focused her attention on her purse so that he couldn’t see her amusement at his dramatics. ‘That’s a relief. Poor thing, waking up in such a predicament.’ She wondered how much longer he was going to spend wrapping up her tea.

‘That’s what I thought.’ He patted the neat package. ‘There you go.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, paying him and taking her tea.