Page 16 of The Extraordinary Florence Stoker

‘It means taking care of all the productions,’ I said quickly. ‘The actors, hiring and managing the front-of-stage and some backstage staff, scheduling shows, and so much more.’ Bram had explained it all to me. Unlike Mother and Father, who were dumbstruck, and not in a good way, I was ecstatic at this turn of events.

When Bram told me the job was in London (London!), I’d flung myself into his arms and he’d spun me around until I was dizzy. To think, after thirteen years, he’d thrown away a boring civil service job and was stepping into the great artistic unknown – and taking me with him. My solid civil servant was full of surprises – wonderful ones. I wanted to burst with happiness. To his astonishment and mine, I kissed him.

Bram’s eyes widened, then his face broke into one of his charming smiles. ‘Why, Miss Balcombe!’ He rubbed his nose against mine.

‘Why, Mr Stoker,’ I said, and went to kiss him again. He quickly put me down.

‘Let’s wait until you’re Mrs Stoker before there’s any more of that, shall we?’ He then explained what this position would entail.

One minute, there’d been a secure, if dull, life in Dublin opening before me, and now, suddenly, here I was, destined to not only be the wife of the acting manager at one of the most prestigious theatres in London, but I was going to live in the city I’d longed to see. I’d heard so much about it – how cosmopolitan it was, how crowded, exciting, dirty, how anyone who was anyone flocked there. There’d be theatres, shops, gardens, concerts, all at my fingertips – not to mention the fascinating people who’d come into my sphere. How could Mother and Father not see what an opportunity this was? How it encapsulated everything I’d ever wanted? My dreams were becoming a reality. Bram’s too – well, apart from writing. But being in London meant his chances of fulfilling that ambition came so much closer.

‘What about your pension?’ asked Father, his voice cracked and disapproving.

Bram shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve had to forfeit that, sir.’

‘Hmmfff,’ said Father.

‘There’s more,’ said Bram.

‘Oh?’ sniffed Mother. Father didn’t say a word; his gaze bored holes through Bram.

‘I’m hoping,’ Bram continued, ‘since the position starts in December in time for the Lyceum’s grand opening, that you’ll give permission for Florence and me to marry earlier, so she might accompany me to London as my wife.’

‘Bring the wedding forward an entire year!’ exclaimed Mother, looking from me to Bram and back again, panic-stricken.

I nodded excitedly.

‘She’s certainly not going with you in any other capacity, young man!’ growled Father and then, standing abruptly, left the room, muttering all the while about eejits, debt, prospects thrown away, actors and actresses. ‘Sleevens,’ he mumbled. ‘The lot of them.’

‘Well,’ said Mother, also standing and smoothing her skirts. ‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Bram.’ As she reached the door, she turned and looked emphatically at me. ‘I just hope you do, Florence.’

For such a big man, Bram appeared quite diminished. No doubt he was also recalling the formidable Charlotte’s reaction when he’d told her. ‘What?’ she’d sneered. ‘Manager to a strolling player?’

It didn’t matter that Mr Irving was far more than a strolling player; nor that this new position was better paid than any civil servant’s job.

I waited until the door closed and grinned at Bram. ‘That went well, didn’t it?’

With the date of the wedding brought forward, there were only weeks until I not only became Mrs Bram Stoker, but left Dublin – for good. The reality of what Bram had committed to, and what I had in accepting his proposal, was starting to become clear. I was like a Liffey tide, fluctuating between highs and lows, moving from despondency to exhilaration.

My sisters and brothers had mixed reactions to the news. James and Billy pretended it didn’t change a thing, yet I noticed they spent a great deal more time by my side than they ever had before, as if they were collecting memories.

Maude, Catherine and Alice were thrilled for me and wanted nothing more than to imagine what my life would be like in a new city in a strange country as the wife of an acting manager.

‘You’ll come home though, won’t you?’ said Alice one day.

‘Of course I will!’ I said, pulling her close. ‘Often. You’ll think I never left. And you’ll come to visit me.’ Alice withdrew from my arms, shaking her head. ‘I’ll never cross the sea.’

‘You won’t get me on a steamship,’ said Catherine.

‘Me neither,’ said Maude.

‘We don’t want to drown,’ said Alice.

All of us were terrified of open water. The girls couldn’t be persuaded to wet their toes in the local lake let alone cross a raging sea. The notion saddened me deeply.

Phil was her usual pragmatic self. ‘You were marrying him anyway, so what’s the difference if it’s sooner rather than later. It won’t change anything except …’ she hesitated.

It was late. We’d been sketching dresses for days, thinking of ways to improve my existing wardrobe, and how to transform Mother’s old wedding gown into something more fashionable. Both Phil and Catherine were expert with a needle and thread and already Mother’s antique cream dress was turning into something I’d be proud to wear. Phil had fashioned a bustle, added some lovely lace we’d picked up from a tinker to the sleeves and frontispiece, and Catherine had salvaged some netting used on Alice’s cot, turning it into a veil. We’d been discussing Henry Irving and how his offer to Bram had changed everything. I was so grateful to this man I’d heard so much about, who my husband-to-be clearly adored. I couldn’t wait to meet him and thank him for believing in Bram, for giving us such a chance. In my mind, he’d become akin to Aladdin’s genie, casting magical spells that made life glitter.