by Deborah Carr
She heard Miss Tweed mumble something. Florence had noticed that Miss Tweed never failed to find an excuse to take John to her tiny office next door to play with him. She liked Dorothy too, but there was something about John that charmed her. It was such a shame that she wasn’t a mother herself. Not that Florence would relish losing the meticulous woman to motherhood. Miss Tweed made her and Jesse’s days far easier with her excellent shorthand, typing, and organisational skills, but the thought of someone missing out on the joys of having their own children now that she had experienced it for herself saddened her.
Florence was aware that her intention to continue working like she had before John was born had been naïve. She hadn’t considered the debilitating tiredness she’d feel after disturbed nights nursing him, and then Dorothy, through recent head colds. Nor had she envisaged her need to be the one to nurse her children, rather than allowing one of the domestic servants to take over from her and give her a little respite during those disturbed nights.
‘Miss Pilbeam kindly took them for a while,’ Florence explained, realising that Miss Tweed was waiting for her to answer. ‘John was a little grizzly. I asked her to keep him and Dorothy busy while I finished writing this letter to the widowed mother of one of our shop assistants.’
Florence did not elaborate about the unmarried girl finding herself in the unfortunate predicament of expecting a child. She had needed to speak at length to Nellie Blythe the previous evening. Florence didn’t want anyone else to know she had spoken privately to the young girl, so had arranged for her to stay behind after the shop had closed for business.
Miss Tweed left the room and Florence swallowed away tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. She put her emotional state down to lack of sleep and still being shaken by Nellie’s terror at facing her mother. Florence had come to understand the shame girls faced when one of them fell pregnant with an illegitimate baby; she had seen it happen enough times now, unfortunately. She wished there was something she could do to help Nellie and counteract the dreadful stigma that the poor girl was about to come up against.
Florence didn’t want Mrs Blythe disowning her daughter, like so many other mothers felt compelled to do. She understood that they mostly did it to show their contempt for their daughter’s actions to the rest of their community, hoping that some of the shame the girl had brought on her family might be dissipated.
Florence could never imagine being able to turn her back on her daughter, regardless of what she had done. Was this, she wondered, because she had enough money to travel away somewhere with her daughter if such an event were to present itself? No, she decided. Her children were worth far more to her than either her standing in society or her reputation.
Florence gazed sadly at the empty chair on the opposite side of her desk where Nellie had sat trembling as she sobbed into a damp handkerchief.
Miss Tweed’s light knock on her door brought her back to the present. Florence looked at her and was about to smile but seeing the concerned expression on her secretary’s face frowned instead. ‘Is something the matter?’
Miss Tweed closed the door quietly behind her and, lowering her voice, walked up to Florence’s desk. ‘I’m afraid there’s been an incident, Mrs Boot.’
Something she wasn’t going to like, Florence suspected. ‘Go on, what is it?’
Her secretary cleared her throat. ‘I’m afraid several of the women have been discussing Miss Blythe.’
Florence frowned. She took a deep breath, hoping that what she was about to hear wasn’t anything to do with her meeting with Nellie the evening before. ‘Yes, please go on.’
‘Apparently …’
Miss Tweed didn’t have time to finish her sentence before Jesse barged into the room. He opened the door with such ferocity that it flew back, slamming against the office wall, making her and Miss Tweed jump in shock.
‘Thank you, Miss Tweed,’ he snapped, interrupting her. ‘Kindly leave me to discuss the matter alone with my wife.’
Florence glared at Jesse, stunned by his rudeness. She went to stand. ‘Whatever’s happened?’
‘Don’t get up,’ Jesse said, taking a seat where the previous evening Nellie had sat sobbing. Miss Tweed closed the door gently behind her.
Jesse closed his eyes briefly. It seemed to Florence that he was either trying to calm his temper or building up to telling her something he didn’t expect her to like. She didn’t fancy either option but waited for him to elaborate.
‘I gather you asked young Nellie Blythe to come and speak to you last evening,’ he said, scowling, his usually gentle eyes appearing like glints of blue granite.
Florence winced. She hated it when Jesse was angry with her, but it also irritated her when he pulled rank. ‘That’s right,’ she said defensively. ‘She has a personal issue and I wanted to help her with it.’
Jesse slammed his hands on the desk between them. He took a deep breath. ‘From what I hear, it seems that you trying to help this young woman has now aggravated matters.’
‘How?’
‘One of the other assistants noticed Nellie hanging back before coming up to your office. Honestly, Florence, what were you thinking, asking the girl to come here?’
Florence had no idea what she had done wrong. She had called many of the women to her office when she needed to speak to them about something private. ‘I don’t see why that’s an issue,’ she argued. ‘Anyway, it’s none of the women’s business what I discuss with their colleagues.’
Jesse stared at her silently for a moment before replying. ‘Florence, the woman followed Nellie up here and listened outside your office door.’
She gasped, dumbfounded that anyone could have the gall to do such a thing. ‘Are you certain?’ Jesse nodded. ‘Well, who was it?’
‘Myra Ellis.’ His eyes narrowed.
Florence could see Jesse was irritated with her for what she’d done and annoyance with him rose.
‘I’ve always been slightly suspicious of that woman,’ Jesse said half to himself.
Florence pictured the bird-like member of staff. She had also been unsure whether to take the woman on, but her references had been good enough. Apart from her personal dislike of Myra, she had no reason to refuse to give the woman a job.
‘We should fire Myra,’ Florence insisted instinctively. If the woman was capable of spying on one of her colleagues and then repeating what she had heard to the other assistants, she wasn’t the sort of woman that Florence wanted to have connected with their Boots stores.
‘That was my first thought, too,’ Jesse said, his anger seeming to subside slightly. ‘But if she’s capable of this sort of behaviour, then what else is she capable of?’
‘I’m not frightened of what she might do!’ Florence snapped, furious with what Myra’s actions could mean for Nellie. ‘Think of the repercussions for Miss Blythe.’
Jesse sighed. ‘I understand what you’re saying, Florence,’ he said, his voice controlled and sounding almost patronising. ‘However, does it occur to you that although the women might not like what Myra has done, her actions will make them fear her and also what she might do to them, should they cross her?’
‘Don’t act all superior with me, Jesse,’ Florence said, glaring at him. She might have put herself in this position, but it angered her when he talked down to her as if she was one of their children. ‘I’ll speak to Myra.’
Florence knew she would have to take a little time to calm herself down before attempting to do so, otherwise she might lose her temper with Myra Ellis completely and fire her on the spot.
Jesse shook his head. ‘No. We should speak to the women in Nellie and Myra’s department and tell them that a private conversation between yourself and a member of staff was listened to. Let them know that the culprit is known to us, and that should anyone ever do such a thing again, then it will mean instant dismissal.’ Florence opened her mouth to argue, but Jesse raised his hand and continued dictating to her the action they would ta
ke. ‘I’ll then call Myra up to my office and give her a stern talking to. I’m going to warn her that I don’t want her spreading rumours about other members of staff. I also want her to know that I’ll be watching her. Hopefully she’ll be more concerned about losing her job than spreading more nastiness around the store.’
Florence understood what he wanted to do but thought she should be the one to do it. ‘Have you quite finished?’
He frowned. ‘Yes.’
‘Fine. Now I’ll tell you what I think, if you’ll give me the chance to speak.’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I took on Myra, so I should be the one to speak to her.’
‘She will be far more bothered by a scolding from me than from you. Don’t you agree?’
Florence was not in the mood to concede to Jesse’s instructions. Not today. ‘No. I’m happy for you to speak to the staff, but I believe I should face Myra, alone.’
Jesse frowned. ‘Florence, I have more experience with the staff than you. I think you’ll be making a mistake.’
‘I disagree, Jesse. I employ the female staff, therefore it makes sense that I reprimand them. If I let you do this, then I’ll lose any credibility I have with them.’ When he didn’t reply, she added, ‘I insist, Jesse.’
Jesse stared at her thoughtfully. ‘I can see that there’s no compromising with you on this. You must do what you think best. But you will need to be very careful when choosing your words with that woman.’
Florence nodded, happy to have taken charge of the situation once again.
‘Fine,’ Jesse said, wearily. ‘You are a stubborn woman at times, Florence. I just hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all.’ He sighed. ‘Let’s go and speak to the women now, before the store opens.’
They went downstairs and Florence stood next to Jesse as he addressed the staff. She glanced from one woman to the next to try and gauge their feelings as he spoke. Jesse didn’t mention Nellie by name, but Florence sensed that most of the woman knew who it was that she had met with the previous evening. Her heart ached for Nellie as the poor girl stood near the back, shamefaced from being the centre of so much attention, albeit not direct.
‘I want to hear no further reports of such behaviour,’ Jesse scolded, concluding his talk. ‘Any further actions of the type I’ve mentioned will result in instant dismissal. Does every one of you understand?’
A chorus of ‘Yes, Mr Boot’ rang out.
‘You may all return to your stations.’
The women turned to go, some whispering to each other as they moved. ‘Apart from Myra Ellis,’ Florence announced. ‘Please come to my office in two minutes.’
Florence caught the look of annoyance on Jesse’s face and realised that once again she had done the wrong thing. Maybe she shouldn’t have singled out Myra in front of the others, she thought as she walked with him to the lift.
‘Why did you do that?’ Jesse asked as the lift doors closed behind them.
‘Everyone out there who knew about what had happened, also would have known that it was Myra who listened at the door.’ Florence’s instincts told her that Jesse was right to be concerned, but it was too late now to rectify it. ‘I saw the look on poor Nellie’s face as you were speaking. She was mortified to be the subject of the women’s gossip. And all of it was instigated by that dreadful woman. I don’t care if she’s embarrassed. Maybe it might teach her a lesson not to do it again.’
‘Somehow I doubt it, Florence.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Please, think carefully before speaking to her. You don’t want your words to be the catalyst of another drama for Nellie, or any other poor girl who finds herself in the same predicament.’
Florence didn’t. ‘I will,’ she assured him, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.
‘My love, I know you enjoy your work and I love having you working next to me, but I think that sometimes you try to fit too much into your days.’
‘Because I’ve made a mess of this, you mean?’ She glared at him, waiting for him to disagree.
‘Yes, if I’m honest. You’re not making the right choices on occasion and it concerns me. I wish you’d listen to me, when I try to help you.’
She knew he was making sense, but she worried that if she agreed with Jesse, he might then insist she reduce her working hours, and she wasn’t ready to relinquish any control of her work.
Florence confronted Myra a few moments later. She had expected the woman to glare at her stony-faced and indignant, but instead Myra begged for forgiveness and cried the entire time Florence was talking to her, but she couldn’t help wondering if they were crocodile tears. Myra didn’t seem like the sort of person to suddenly become tearful and apologetic, but she would have to give her the benefit of the doubt in this instance.
Later that day, when some of the staff were taking their lunch break, Florence popped down to the shop floor and when no one else was nearby discreetly asked Nellie to come and see her again.
‘I’m so sorry for what happened after our chat last night,’ Florence said. ‘As you know, Mr Boot has spoken to the women and I’ve met with Myra Ellis and given her a talking-to. I hope the matter calms down a little now.’
‘Thanks for trying, Mrs Boot,’ Nellie sniffed. ‘But now they all know the state I’m in.’ She burst into fresh tears, pulling a creased handkerchief from her uniform pocket. ‘Me mam’s going to kick me out, Mrs Boot, I just know she is.’
‘You don’t know that for certain.’ Florence tried to reassure her, aware that she had never met Mrs Blythe so had no idea how the woman would react. ‘Would you like me to write to your mother?’
Nellie looked up, her blue eyes puffy from crying. ‘What would you say?’
Florence had no idea, so took a moment to try and come up with something. ‘I presume that your mother is concerned about what the neighbours might say about the, um, situation. Is that correct?’
Nellie blew her nose and sniffed. ‘Yes, Mrs Boot. Me mam will say that ’er next door will ’ave been waiting for somethin’ like this to ’appen, so she can say she always knew we was not as good as ’er.’
Florence hated the thought of someone relishing another person’s misery. ‘I can write to your mother and let her know that I’m happy to give you a reference, so that once the baby has been born, you’ll be able to find work.’
Nellie looked stunned. ‘You’d do that for me, Mrs Boot?’
Florence felt a pang of sadness that the girl sitting in front of her was so grateful for any help, especially when she had been instrumental in Nellie’s situation becoming common knowledge among her peers. How desperate she must feel, Florence thought miserably. ‘Yes. I’ll happily help you find something at one of our other stores, where there’s less chance of the staff there knowing your business. Would that make you feel better?’ she asked.
‘Yes, very much.’
‘Then I’ll write saying the same to your mother. Hopefully it will pacify her and she won’t be as angry with you as you fear.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Boot. Thanks ever so much.’
‘It’ll be my pleasure, Nellie. Now, dry your eyes and go and eat some lunch.’
She watched Nellie leave. Her head ached and more than anything she would have loved to take half an hour to lie down and close her eyes, but she needed to write to Nellie’s mother without delay. She had suspected a few weeks previously that Nellie was putting on a little weight around her waist, but the girl had been so thin before that Florence had thought the extra weight had suited her. She hadn’t thought for a moment that Nellie could be carrying a child.
Florence recalled the girl’s interview with her almost a year before. She had been barely sixteen, but desperate to prove herself capable of carrying out her role as a junior shop assistant. She had been one of the staff Florence had taken on at the Goose Gate shop, but within months she knew that she was one of her best employees.
She thought how Nellie had mentioned living with her disabled younger brother and wi
dowed mother, who, if Florence remembered correctly, also suffered from poor health. Florence believed the mother’s troubles were due to arthritis. How, she wondered miserably, was Nellie expected to survive without a weekly wage, let alone adding the responsibility of bringing up a baby without a husband? She had no choice but to let her go, but it didn’t make doing it any easier. Nellie’s situation had struck a chord with Florence and she was determined to find a way to help her, if she possibly could.
Chapter 2
‘Drink your milk and then Mama has a treat for you,’ Florence said, holding out the small cup for John to take. She had a batch of his favourite gingerbread biscuits that she had baked for him the evening before hidden in a tin in her desk drawer. Enticed by the temptation of a treat, John took the cup and drank.
‘I have today’s mail for you, Mrs Boot,’ Miss Tweed announced, entering Florence’s office and smiling down at the children.
‘Thank you,’ Florence said, having not heard her secretary’s knock. ‘My mind is everywhere today.’
Miss Tweed handed several envelopes to her. Florence thanked her and after her secretary left the room noticed the top letter had her mother’s neat handwriting on it. Sighing, Florence picked up her letter opener and sliced open the top, wondering if this would be another one of her mother’s caring but critical letters. She took out the single sheet of paper, suspecting this wasn’t a chatty tome, but something more serious playing on her mother’s mind. She unfolded the page and read.
27 Queen Street
St Helier
Jersey
28th January 1892
14 Wellesley Road,
Sheffield
Dear Florence,
I am writing this against your father’s wishes, but felt the need to stress my thoughts to you as I believe any caring mother should.
I was aware of your insistence to continue working after John and then Dorothy were born, despite my advice to the contrary. I overheard your sisters speaking earlier today after one of them had received a letter from you and have to admit my shock that your husband is still allowing you to continue your work after your third baby is born.
