Mrs Boots Goes to War

by Deborah Carr

  She heard rapid footsteps and wished Margery wouldn’t run on the polished Parquet flooring in the hallway.

  Appearing once more in the doorway, Margery grinned at them both as she walked over to kiss first Florence on her cheek and then bent to kiss her father. Florence felt almost overwhelmed by her love for her youngest child. She noticed Margery’s flushed cheeks and suspected now might be the time her daughter had intended sharing her news.

  Margery sat and rested her hands together neatly in her lap, which, Florence noted, she tended to do when bracing herself to announce something momentous. ‘How are you both today?’

  Florence gazed lovingly at her daughter, hoping to put her at her ease. ‘I can sense you have something you wish to speak to us about. Why not tell us what it is before one of the servants arrives with your teacup?’

  Margery glanced from her to Jesse and winced. ‘Right, then, I will: I’m planning to set up a canteen. Well, it’s more of a kitchen with a café.’

  A canteen? Florence struggled to picture her daughter doing such a thing. Maybe she meant to do the same as other women had by setting up small stalls at railway stations and ports to welcome returning soldiers with cups of tea, cigarettes and buns. She wondered when Margery could have visited or been taken by the idea to do it herself. Would she even know how to run such a thing? Maybe she had joined another group of women?

  ‘Do you have an idea where you’ll do this?’ Florence asked, unsure where this was leading.

  ‘Northern France.’

  Florence opened her mouth to speak but her shock was so huge that she was unable to find the right words. ‘Northern France! But, surely…?’ Her mind raced. She couldn’t possibly allow her to go and have two of her children in harm’s way. Why was Margery wanting to leave the safety of Nottingham to go to France? The second the thought entered her head she thought of Doris’s enthusiasm in her office a few weeks earlier and that of the other girls who had since given notice that they were replacing their work at Boots with jobs connected to the war effort. Why should her caring daughter be any different to them?

  Florence saw Margery swallow as she waited for her and Jesse to absorb her news. Margery was obviously expecting this reaction from her. Then Florence realised Jesse hadn’t spoken. It wasn’t like him not to have expressed an opinion by now. She suspected he must be as horrified at her at the thought of their daughter leaving to go and work in France.

  ‘Where exactly in Northern France?’

  ‘Not you as well?’ Jesse said before Margery had a chance to answer Florence’s question. ‘Why do you young people feel this need to put yourselves in danger? Surely, there’s something safer you can do for the war effort here in Nottingham? Or even elsewhere in England, if you’d rather go further afield?’

  Florence didn’t want Jesse to lose his temper or, worse, panic at the thought of Margery going away but could see by the reddening of his face that he was getting upset. When the war had begun she had been horrified to discover that John had enlisted but it never occurred to her that one of her daughters would also find a way to go to France whilst the war was raging.

  Florence decided to try to calm herself. She needed to take charge of the situation before tempers flared. ‘Why don’t you start from the beginning, Margery?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jesse agreed glancing at Florence, his expression giving nothing away. She suspected he was also trying hard not to upset Margery. Like her though, Jesse would no doubt be concerned that if he insisted their daughter forget the idea of leaving she might storm off and leave without being fully prepared. Florence had heard of other young people hurriedly leaving their family because of arguments despite being forbidden to go, and had no intention of her daughter doing such a thing.

  How many parents must be feeling frightened for their families like she and Jesse were right now? Florence thought back to only a few months previously when her children’s futures had been ones she was looking forward to witnessing. Peaceful, calm futures filled with excitement and the prospect of creating their own families with everything to look forward to. How suddenly everything had changed and not just for their family but for every family touched by this war.

  Was it her fault, for striving to bring her children up to be independent? Florence wondered. She had always thought her determination to help her children become adults with minds of their own an advantage; was this intention now coming back to bite her? Florence knew she would never forgive herself if either John or Margery were hurt or, worse, killed, due to their decision to become involved in the war.

  Margery sat up straighter, her chin raised slightly. ‘It’s simply that I’ve heard how dreadful it can be for men travelling home by train who’ve been injured, especially the more severely injured of them.’ She stared out to the garden, a wistful look on her young face. ‘The rattling around in carriages, hour after hour, can be agony for many of them. I met a couple of nurses two weeks ago and we started talking. They wanted to find a way to help ease the dreadful journeys of those wounded soldiers and we decided that we should do something ourselves. I’ve met up with two other friends of mine who wish to help and together we believe we can make a huge difference to what is otherwise a horrible experience.’

  Florence pictured her youngest daughter trying to cope with such a situation. ‘Go on…’ she encouraged, doing her best to remain calm.

  ‘It occurred to me how nice it would be for us to offer them a kindly word, a cup of tea and some nourishing food, the offer of a cigarette or two, that sort of thing. I believe that doing something so simple can really help turn a painful experience into a more positive one.’ She turned to look at Florence and Jesse. ‘Surely, something like this could really help many wounded soldiers? It would also help those nurses and doctors travelling with them, if their charges have a break and are refreshed with these things. What do you think?’

  Florence glanced at Jesse. He looked at her, a troubled look in his eyes. Then he turned to Margery, smiling proudly at her. ‘I think it’s a splendid idea, darling. How very clever of you to come up with something that could potentially make an enormous difference to many soldiers.’ His gaze returned to Florence. ‘But you can’t cook, and you don’t know anything about setting up a canteen.’

  ‘I can learn to cook from one of the others,’ Margery responded immediately, ‘and, as far as organising everything, I’ll simply have to ask people and figure everything out. As I said, it won’t only be me doing it, there are a small group of us.’

  Jesse shrugged. ‘It seems, Florence that our youngest daughter is set on finding her own way in the world.’

  Florence wished she could sound as cheerful as Jesse at the prospect of her daughter taking up this challenge. She wanted desperately to refuse to let her go but how could she react in such a way? She never would have stopped John leaving, regardless of how much she didn’t want him to go. After all that she had said about women being equal to men, she couldn’t now treat her daughter differently from John. She reached forward to take her daughter’s hand in hers briefly and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go and sitting back in her chair. Margery had always been a hard worker, first at her studies and then working for the company and as much as Florence admired her daughter’s intentions it worried her that she might not have realistic expectations about what to expect in France.

  ‘Mother? You’re very quiet,’ Margery said, frowning. ‘I’d love to know what you think about this idea.’

  Florence’s head pounded and she could feel a headache coming on. The thought of her daughter going to France without a family member there to protect her terrified her. What if something untoward happened to her when she was so far away from home? Neither she nor Jesse could be at her side within hours, only days. Her mind raced. Would Margery be in danger? How would she cope if anything happened to her daughter? Florence knew she would want to die if either of her children were killed. She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought.

 
; ‘Mother?’

  Margery’s concerned voice pierced Florence’s troubled thoughts. She was determined not to upset her daughter but her plan to leave for France made her sick with fear. ‘I think it’s a marvellous idea, too.’ It was, she reasoned, she wasn’t lying, but she hesitated for a moment, aware that she needed to broach her concerns with as much tact as she could muster. ‘There will be a lot of planning for you all to do before you’ll be ready to leave though, I should imagine?’ Before Margery could reply, she added, ‘Have you thought about where you’ll set up this canteen and how you’ll manage the long hours it will take to run it?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Margery gave them a confident smile. ‘If I’ve learned one thing from the pair of you it’s how to be organised. I’m going to need several assistants, including someone trained in nursing for helping change bandages and that sort of thing. That’s where my two nursing friends have come in. I’ll have to raise some money to buy equipment and provisions, of course. Then, as soon as I have everything in place we’ll be leaving for France.’

  ‘But where exactly in France?’ Jesse asked.

  ‘I’m not entirely certain at the moment, but wherever we’re needed most. I intend setting up at one of the railway stations through which the wounded pass on their way to the nearest seaport. I want their journey home to be as pleasant as possible, so it makes sense to start there.’

  ‘It does,’ Jesse agreed. ‘My only concern is that you are a woman and a young one at that.’ Florence heard Margery groan in unsuppressed irritation. ‘What worldly experiences have you ever had to help you cope with any ungentlemanly behaviour?’

  ‘Father!’

  ‘Well, it’s something I believe you should consider. As distasteful as it sounds, it is something you need to be prepared to deal with.’

  ‘I— That is… Well, I’m not sure.’

  Jesse didn’t wait for Margery to finish her reaction to his questions before continuing. ‘Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous in Northern France? We’ve seen ourselves –’ he looked at Florence for back-up– ‘haven’t we, dear, the shocking state those poor wounded soldiers have begun returning in.’

  Margery’s smile vanished. Florence wondered if her daughter had thought about having to deal with badly injured men and how she had no experience of that sort of thing either. She watched as Margery gave Jesse’s questions some thought.

  ‘The soldiers will be accompanied, Father. I don’t think you need worry about that. And most will be wounded, as you said, so probably not in a position to do anyone much harm.’

  Jesse scowled at her. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my darling. Men can be beastly when they put their mind to it.’ He looked at Florence for reassurance. ‘Don’t you agree, my dear?’

  Relieved at Jesse’s sensible comments and glad not to be the only one voicing concerns, Florence nodded. ‘Your father is right, darling. Not all men are well behaved and if you and your friends are running this venture alone, who will be around to come to your aid if the necessity arises?’

  Margery sighed heavily. Florence could see her daughter had been expecting this sort of opposition to her plans. ‘I do wish the pair of you wouldn’t worry so much. As I said, we’ll set up our canteen at a railway station. There are guards there, aren’t there?’ She waited for Florence and Jesse to nod their agreement. ‘Well, my assistants and I will be sensible enough to make friends with them, so that they will come to help us should we need them to.’

  Despite Florence’s fears for her daughter’s safety, she could not help feeling somewhat reassured that Margery appeared to have considered various situations.

  Jesse mumbled something under his breath. ‘Surely you can find other ways of helping the war effort and still remain in the relative safety of Nottingham?’

  Florence could see by the determined expression on Margery’s face that she and Jesse were wasting their breath. She thought back to when she had been twenty-two. She had not yet met Jesse, but she had been as determined as her daughter was now to make something of herself. Florence didn’t doubt that Margery was going to find a way to go to France whether she and Jesse liked the idea or not.

  ‘Your father and I have both made choices in our lives that our parents might not have wished for us when we were younger… haven’t we, Jesse?’ Florence admitted. She spoke gently, not wanting to antagonise him further unnecessarily. ‘We can’t accept John’s decision to enlist and not allow Margery to do as she chooses.’

  ‘John is a married man,’ Jesse argued.

  Margery gasped. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  Florence spoke quickly before Jesse could react. ‘I think it’s more that your father worries less about your brother because he is older than you.’

  ‘By three years, that’s all.’ Margery unpinned her hat, stabbing the pin back in through the straw crown with a little more vigour than Florence thought necessary. ‘Anyhow, what he’s doing is far more dangerous than anything I’ll be facing in France. At least I’ll be behind the front lines.’

  ‘Those front lines move constantly,’ Jesse argued. ‘I’ve read as much in the broadsheets.’

  Florence sensed the tension rising rapidly between her husband and daughter. She reached out to touch Jesse’s arm in an effort to calm him. She understood her children well enough to know that, like her and Jesse, they could be stubborn when confronted. ‘I think Margery will have looked into this thoroughly before setting anything in place, don’t you, dear?’

  He gave Florence’s question some thought. ‘I simply worry that you might be caught up in unexpected dangers that you hadn’t considered, that’s all,’ he said giving Margery a pleading look. ‘I don’t underestimate your skill for putting this idea into action.’

  Margery’s shoulders relaxed and Florence could see she was calming down. ‘You do both think it’s a good idea then?’

  Florence couldn’t miss the hope in her daughter’s voice. She was as frightened for her as she knew Jesse to be, but she was also aware that her children were strong-minded and felt the need to make their mark in the world, just as she and Jesse had done before them. ‘I think it’s an excellent one.’ Florence had never been prouder of her youngest daughter than at this moment. ‘Those poor young men need all the comfort you can offer them. If it isn’t bad enough being at the Front in those unsanitary trenches, they then have to suffer the pain and fear of being injured and cope with an arduous journey home. We can’t help worrying for your safety, that’s all darling,’ she explained.

  Margery gave a cheerful sigh. ‘I am relieved. I knew you would both have reservations about what I’m intending to do, but I do appreciate your understanding. I promise I won’t take any silly chances and will make sure that both my safety and that of my assistants, and of course the wounded men, is paramount.’

  ‘We know you will,’ Florence said, opening her arms and holding her daughter tightly as Margery bent to hug her. ‘But you must keep in contact with us as much as you can. We are going to need constant reassurances that you are safe and well.’

  ‘We certainly will,’ added Jesse. ‘However, you do seem to have thought of most eventualities. I’m sure I speak for your mother as well as myself when I say that if there’s anything at all that we can do to help this venture of yours, we hope you will let us know.’

  Margery stepped back and then kissed her father on his cheek. ‘Thank you. I will.’

  Chapter Seven

  St Heliers House, December 1914

  Florence had spent the previous couple of months keeping as busy as possible to stop herself from fretting about Margery’s impending departure. She felt sick every time she thought of her leaving despite all the reassurances Margery had given them. It worried her too that many male members of staff had enlisted and rather more of her girls had also left to do their bit for King and country.

  Not wishing to ruin any of the time she had left with Margery before her departure, Florence helped her
daughter whenever possible to source all that she needed for her canteen. Florence hadn’t realised Margery’s need to help others was so deeply ingrained in her. She understood why she wanted so desperately to go to France and do her bit and suspected that if she was her daughter’s age now, she would feel compelled to do something similar.

  It turned out that although Margery gratefully accepted small donations from her and Jesse, most of the funds she accumulated for her venture were from small events she and her assistants had arranged. Florence watched in awe as week by week Margery’s supply of tarpaulin tents, bedding, first aid supplies, crockery, cutlery, recipes and dried food increased and were packed and stored ready for the time when she would be satisfied that she had all she needed to set up the canteen and run it for several months.

  She watched her daughter grow in confidence as time passed and her plans came to fruition and even though she would give almost anything to stop her leaving England, she had to admit to herself that she didn’t think she could ever be prouder of her youngest child.

  Florence sat at their long dining room table while their Christmas lunch was served. She had made a point of putting up a much smaller tree this year and keeping celebrations less ostentatious. It didn’t seem right somehow to be exchanging expensive gifts and holding large parties when so many were suffering.

  She watched Dorothy deep in conversation with John’s beloved wife Margaret, who was sitting next to her. Florence wished her son could have joined them for the festivities but knew it had been an unlikely prospect since his brief visit home two weeks before. It hadn’t stopped her from being sad when Christmas Day arrived and he was not with them. Poor Margaret, she thought, newly married and spending her first Christmas without her husband.