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‘She remembers our outing in a charabanc,’ Florence laughed, recalling the fun day out they had with her friends. ‘There were about twenty of us altogether. We travelled in two charabancs and we enjoyed a picnic on the sand dunes.’
Florence was glad that Jane had enjoyed her day enough to tell her brother all about it. They both obviously had fond memories of the day that had started out with the threat of rain. It had been so bad that there was a moment they weren’t certain they would be able to go. But the clouds had parted, and everything had turned out perfectly.
‘Is that the harbour where my boat docked?’ Mr Boot asked, peering towards the granite pier walls to the left of the bay past Elizabeth Castle.
‘Yes, that’s correct,’ she said, fanning herself with the pretty fan her sister Adelaide had bought her for her last birthday. She wondered if maybe she should suggest an outing to the castle on another day, unsure whether it would be easy enough for him to manage when the tide was low and the causeway there was exposed. Deciding not to say anything for now, she added. ‘The sea seems so still today, doesn’t it?’
‘It does.’ Removing his hat, he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.
They fell into a companionable silence. Florence stole several glances at Mr Boot as he gazed out of the window at the seascape to the left of them. Fine lines ran from the sides of his eyes to the top of his cheeks. He seemed more relaxed even from the previous day and she was certain his visit to the island was having the desired effect on him.
He must have sensed her looking at him and turned, smiling as he caught her eye.
Shocked slightly to be caught out, her cheeks reddened.
‘Sorry, did you ask me something?’ he asked.
She shook her head, relieved he had thought she had speaking to him. ‘Err, no. That is, yes. I was wondering if you find the island to your liking so far, Mr Boot?’
‘I do,’ he said, sitting back in his seat to face her better. ‘Very much. I don’t know if it’s the sea air or spending more time than I usually would outside in the sunshine, but I am certainly benefitting from being here.’
‘I’m glad.’ Not wishing to seem forward, she added, ‘I wouldn’t want a visitor to the island going home without feeling that he, or she, had taken with them a true sense of well-being.’
‘You can be satisfied then to know that I am feeling better than I have done for many, many months.’
She was glad to hear it. More than she expected to be. She smiled at him and they both gazed out of the window at the shimmering blue and silver view that the sea offered to them.
They passed The Tin Hut at West Park, along to the stop at First Tower where several passengers alighted, and others replaced them. Then they slowed to pass another rail car at Millbrook Station.
‘It’s a little warm today, don’t you think?’
She nodded, wishing she wasn’t wearing layers of fabric with her petticoats and cotton summer dress. ‘Maybe there’ll be more of a breeze when we reach La Corbière?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Would it be so different? I didn’t think it was too far away from here?’
Florence realised that most people would find it strange that on an island five miles by nine in size that there would be different temperatures. ‘It’s not much of a distance. The lighthouse is on a small peninsula adjoining two bays. The one to its right is a tiny bay, but that leads on to a larger expanse of beach. St Ouen’s Bay faces west and there usually is more of a sea breeze in that part of the island. Odd, I know. My parents have friends who run a farm out that way and they never like coming into town on hot days, preferring to remain out there instead.’
‘I’m looking forward to going there,’ he said, a smile on his slightly pink face. ‘The lighthouse is only a few years old, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, and it’s the first concrete lighthouse in the British Isles. We’re very proud of it here in Jersey. Apparently, on a clear night, the light can be visible up to eighteen miles away.’
The reached St Aubin, and Florence told him a little about the area, with its small harbour and busy waterfront.
‘This is a new terminus building,’ she said. ‘It only opened at the beginning of this month.’
He gazed over to where the old shabby building stood.
The train took a sharp bend to the west and entered the tunnel.
‘Not too long now,’ she said, looking forward to reaching the next sea view. Florence didn’t like tunnels, and this bit always made her slightly uncomfortable. Then, once again, they were back in the daylight and she relaxed.
They passed farmland and Florence pointed out a large herd of Jersey cows. ‘They have to be the prettiest cows, don’t you think?’
‘I imagine you are right. Their faces are very pretty.’
‘We’re almost there,’ she said, excited to reach their destination. ‘I hope the journey wasn’t a disappointment.’
‘Not at all,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I’ve enjoyed myself immensely so far. Thank you, Florence. It is very kind of you to accompany me here today.’
The train slowed, stopping at the station. Mr Boot lifted the hamper and disembarked, turning and proffering his hand, waiting for her to take it as she stepped down.
They walked away from the station and crossed over to the beach side of the road stopping at the top of the rocks and looking across the causeway to the splendid lighthouse standing proudly on the rocks at the end of the peninsular.
‘What do you think of our lighthouse, Mr Boot?’
‘Impressive, and well worth a visit.’
‘Would you like to take a walk now?’
‘Or we could find somewhere to sit and eat,’ he said, ‘and then take a stroll later when we’ve finished.’
‘And then the hamper won’t be as heavy.’ She laughed.
‘Then it’s agreed. We’ll eat first.’
Having scanned the area for a few moments, Florence pointed to a space at the top of the rocks where no one was yet sitting.
‘We could sit over there,’ she said, hoping they’d reach the area before any other visitors to the area would. She walked slowly so as not to rush Mr Boot, aware that he would be embarrassed if she made her slowness obvious.
They arrived at the spot she had chosen. He placed the hamper down next to two low boulders. ‘These would make good seats, don’t you think?’
She agreed, thinking that maybe he would find it easier to stand once more if he wasn’t seated on the grass, but on something a little higher. ‘It looks perfect.’
She lay the hamper on its side. Florence then unbuckled the soft leather straps holding the hamper closed, hoping to find the food in the same state it had been in when she had packed it. Raising the lid, she lifted the red and white picnic cloth and smiled.
‘It looks as if everything has survived the journey here.’
‘That’s a relief,’ he said, taking the cloth from her and opening it, lowering it until it was on the grass. Then, carefully lifting the open hamper he placed it on one side of the cloth.
Florence thanked him and knelt down next to the food to inspect it. She unclipped the two plates and took out her mother’s second-best condiment set, placing it down.
‘Would you like me to put some of the food on a plate for you?’
‘That would be very kind.’ He undid his jacket.
She was aware that he was watching her. ‘I’ve made the food, so please don’t expect it to be too delicate,’ she explained, not wishing his expectations to be high, and then for him to be disappointed when he saw what she had brought for their lunch.
‘I’m certain it will be delicious,’ he said smiling at her. ‘What have you brought for our lunch, if I may ask?’
She sat back and studied the tins of food. ‘I’ve made us beef sandwiches, with a touch of horseradish. There are some cucumber ones also, in case you don’t like the meat.’
‘That sounds wonderful.’
Boosted by his enthusiasm, she added, ‘I’ve also baked some scones this morning. Mother let me bring a small jar of her best strawberry jam and I bought some Jersey cream to go with it. We also have crackers with a small wheel of Brie.’
‘You have thought of everything,’ he said, breathing in deeply. ‘This air is intoxicating.’
Florence thought so too. She was pleased that he was happy with her basic picnic. She took the two glasses from the hamper and placed them on to the lid, in case the grass was too soft, and they tipped.
‘I made us lemonade,’ she said, unsure of her choice. ‘I tried some at home before leaving and I’m worried it’s a little too tart.’
‘Then it will be perfect for this weather.’
She handed him a glass, and, pulling the cork out of the top of the lemonade bottle, poured a little into the glass for him to try.
Mr Boot took a sip and blinked a few times, despite keeping a smile on his face.
Florence couldn’t help being amused by his reaction. ‘I told you it probably wasn’t very good.’
‘It’s delicious,’ he fibbed, taking another mouthful. ‘Truly.’
Unable to help herself, she laughed loudly at his attempt at saving her feelings.
‘I don’t believe you but thank you for being kind. I’m no cook, baker, or whatever you call a lemonade maker, but hopefully the food will be more palatable than the drink.’
Chapter 6 (#ulink_f1890c6a-629a-522a-a1b1-93e0be385b20)
A week later, Florence thanked the postman as he handed her the mail in the shop. She exchanged pleasantries with one of their customers and opened the door for them as they left.
‘Any interesting mail?’ Amy asked, as she finished dusting the shelves and walked over to join Florence by the counter.
‘Why?’ Florence teased. ‘Are you expecting something in particular?’
Amy scowled, peering at the letters in Florence’s hand. ‘No, but by the look of the top letter, you’ve received something?’
Florence turned her attention to the envelopes. Her sister was right; the top one was addressed to her. She didn’t recognise the writing and inspected the other side, but there was no return address on the back.
‘Who’s it from?’ Amy asked.
‘I’ve no idea.’
Amy took the rest of the mail from Florence and sorted it out, putting it into small piles for her father, which included his personal and shop mail and one for her mother. She nudged Florence. ‘Are you going to stare at it all day, or will you be reading it?’
Florence wasn’t sure, but she hoped the letter was from Mr Boot. He had asked if he could write to her, but she knew his business took up most of his time and had not expected him to do so this quickly. If her intuition was correct, then he had enjoyed their outing to the west of the island as much as she had. Even her hopeless attempt at preparing a tasty picnic hadn’t ruined their time together.
However, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be in company when she opened this letter, just in case it was from him. She pushed the letter into her skirt pocket just as the shop door jangled and announced the arrival of another customer.
The rest of the day passed achingly slowly. Finally, Florence finished her work for the day. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle a yawn, then tidied the last of the books and locked the shop door.
Amy chatted with their father as Florence stared out of the window at the street where people hurried to shops before they closed for the day. She turned the sign to ‘closed’, so that no more customers would think to try and enter Rowe’s. She was desperate to read the letter that seemed to weigh down her pocket.
Unable to wait any longer, she said, ‘Do you mind if I go and freshen up for supper now?’
Her father frowned at her question. She could understand his reaction, as she never usually asked to leave as soon as they had closed for the day.
‘You are quite well?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Perfectly.’
‘Of course, you may go.’
She began walking to the back of the shop, catching an amused smile from her sister as she passed her. She didn’t have time for Amy’s teasing, not right now.
She reached her bedroom, closed the door and unlaced her Boot, kicking them off as she sat on the cushioned chair next to a small table by her bedroom window. Pulling the letter from her pocket she opened it and withdrew the single piece of good quality paper.
It was from Mr Boot, she noted with relief. She stared at the writing for a moment thinking how distinctive it was in a slightly untidy way. Florence was nervous, yet excited to read what he had to say.
16–20 Goose Gate
Nottingham
1 September 1885
Miss F Rowe
27 Queen Street
St Helier
Jersey
My dear Miss Rowe,
Thank you for permitting me to continue our friendship through correspondence now that I have returned home to Nottingham.
I was sorry to cut short my trip and miss further outings with you to experience more diverse parishes in Jersey. I am still taken aback by the beauty and the difference in settings on such a small island. From the pretty cobbled back streets in your town to the expanse of sand and sea from the bays of Grouville and St Ouen. I can understand more fully now the reasons why my sister Jane enjoyed her visit so very much.
I was sorry to have to say goodbye to you and your parents. You and your family were very gracious in welcoming me and ensuring that my stay on the island was such a memorable and life-affirming one.
The business that I returned to Nottingham to deal with is now well underway. We have been developing our manufacturing facilities on Island Street and have come up against a few issues. It is a little more serious than I had presumed, but that is nothing unusual. Business always has its ups and downs, and very often unexpected events happen when you least foresee, or wish, them to.
I fully intend to travel back to Jersey as soon as I am able to take time away from my business. I hope that I may enjoy the pleasure of your company when I do. I have so much yet to experience of the island, and maybe we could attend a concert or a dance, or, if you would prefer, I could ask your father’s permission to take you out to dinner.
Yours sincerely and very best wishes,
From your good friend,
Mr Boot
