The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘I suppose I should try to find my parents,’ Cara muttered, ‘though I have no idea how to go about it. I have to say too that I’m a bit scared of finding my father after what Charlie told us about him. Maybe I should visit Josiah Colley again; it might be he’s discovered something in his records. After all, deaths as well as marriages are recorded. If they are dead, then our search ends right there.’

  ‘What if he’s not found anything?’ Molly asked.

  Cara shrugged her tired shoulders. ‘We could ask questions of the carters, one of them may have known my father. For now, however, I’m just glad we saved those two upstairs.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling indicating the two sleeping children.

  The women clinked teacups in congratulations.

  ‘Now they are safe at last,’ Cara said. Looking up, she saw Molly stifle a sob. ‘Oh Molly, don’t get upset.’

  ‘I’m not upset, I’m just so… happy!’ Molly answered, her tears flowing now.

  Gracie lifted her apron to her eyes to dry her own eyes and before long all three were crying tears of happiness.

  Lying in bed later that evening, tired but unable to sleep, Cara’s mind went over the events of the day. Thrilled at finding Daisy alive, she knew she now had two children to take care of. It was a big responsibility for someone so young, but she was determined she would do her best. Besides, she had Gracie and Molly to help. Her friends were proving to be invaluable assets and she felt blessed.

  Cara whispered into the darkness, ‘I’ve found your other granddaughter now too, Grandma. I wish you were here to see her. You would love her dearly.’ Cara wept quietly as she felt again the pain of her loss. ‘Oh Grandma, I miss you so much!’ Burying her face in her pillow, she finally gave way to great heaving sobs.

  *

  The fortnightly meeting of the Board of Guardians of the workhouse was in full swing. The Board was constructed entirely of prominent businessmen who were elected into office by the parishioners. Under the Poor Law Regulations, the parishioners were required to pay rates which were collected by the Parish Overseer. These monies were used to run the workhouse. The overall organization of the place and management of the inmates was undertaken by the Master. Being a Master meant a job for life, unless he was dismissed for some proven indiscretion. It was the Board’s decision whether a Master should be forgiven or summarily dismissed. The Matron, usually wife or sister to the Master, but not always, had the responsibility for management of the women and children. She was considered a deputy to the Master.

  There was also a visiting committee made up of members of the Board of Guardians. It was a very tight-knit community which was involved with the day-to-day running of the institution. Each of the Board members were friends and would often meet socially as well as for business.

  The visiting committee visited weekly to check that the workhouse was being run properly and the inmates were treated fairly. They were also there to listen to any complaints, which would be recorded in the visitor’s book. Tulley’s book had no complaints listed, which gave the Board the impression no one ever grumbled about the food or dire conditions in which they lived. In truth, the dread of punishment kept all inmates’ mouths firmly closed.

  There were fourteen questions the Board were required to ask of workhouse staff, and so it went…

  Is the workhouse clean and well ventilated and are the beds in proper order?

  Mrs Tulley nodded as she said, ‘Yes, indeed they are.’

  Are the inmates clean and orderly in their behaviour, and are their clothes changed regularly?

  Another nod from the Matron, another ‘Yes.’ In point of fact the inmates were rarely given access to the bathing facilities, and their clothes were changed when Ada felt the need, which was once a week, usually on the days the Board convened.

  Are the inmates kept in work and is that work unobjectionable?

  Fred Tulley assured the Board that work was being undertaken. The bone and stone crushing was most definitely objectionable to the inmates, but not to Tulley. After all, he didn’t have to do it.

  Are the infirm properly attended to?

  ‘We have no infirm inmates at the present time,’ the Master said keeping his mouth shut about the two women who his wife had told him complained of having bad backs.

  Are the children properly instructed in school and their industrial training properly attended to?

  ‘Three hours a day, as laid down in the rules,’ Mrs Tulley answered knowing full well the rules would be ignored and the children put to work instead.

  Are the younger children properly nursed and has every child been vaccinated?

  ‘Yes indeed sirs!’ Ada beamed. It was the doctor attached to the workhouse who insisted he be called out to undertake the vaccinations of all new children admitted.

  Is there regular attendance by a medical officer; are inmates in proper sick wards; are there any infectious diseases in the workhouse?

  Fred assured the Board all was well on that score. The doctor came as soon as he was called, the sick ward was empty and there were no infectious diseases in his workhouse!

  Were there any dangerous lunatics or idiots in the workhouse?

  Tulley shook his head in answer, accompanied by a firm, ‘No. We would inform the lunatic asylum should we feel the need.’

  Are prayers regularly read?

  The Master nodded, saying they were. A lie, but lies slipped too easily from Tulley’s tongue. He was not prepared to pay out good money to the vicar to perform Sunday service. If the inmates wished to pray, they could do it at their work or in their beds.

  Is the customary established diet duly observed and are mealtimes adhered to?

  ‘Most definitely!’ Ada confirmed. What Ada considered to be the customary diet was not at all in agreement with the rulings; it was, however, served at regular times.

  Are provisions and other supplies of the qualities contracted for?

  Another nod from Tulley, ‘Indeed sirs.’

  Is the classification properly observed?

  ‘It is, each inmate in their own wing of the house, sirs,’ Tulley said.

  Have there been any complaints by the paupers against an officer or about the accommodation?

  ‘Most definitely not!’ Ada said, smoothing her long apron and drawing her head back on her neck revealing a saggy double chin. She was aware the inmates knew better than to complain.

  Does the number of inmates exceed that fixed by the Poor Law Commissioners?

  ‘No, sirs. In fact we have plenty of room for more,’ Tulley grinned. The more coming in, the more could be sold on, the more money in his pocket. To Tulley, this made good business sense.

  Every two weeks the same questions, the same answers. It was a necessary business procedure that needed to be adhered to before the serious business of eating could begin.

  As the Board members cleared away their papers and headed for the dining hall, thin women brought out platters of cheese, cold beef and ham, pickles, fresh baked bread still warm from the oven, butter and an array of fruit. Wine was poured into glasses which stood by china plates flanked by metal cutlery. Condiments graced the centre of the table. Napkins were folded neatly on the plates.

  The serving women kept their eyes on the floor as they laid the food on the table before quietly leaving the room. Conversation began as food was piled onto plates. The wine flowed freely and the afternoon passed with business being conducted which had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the management of the workhouse.

  The Master’s laughter boomed out as his wife ensured all the wine glasses were kept topped up. Tulley was a happy man, his wealth from selling inmates was growing, he was well fed and he had a job for life. He had no way of knowing that at some time in the not too distant future his world would be turned upside down… by the young woman he had so recently met for the first time. He had underestimated her, but only time would confirm this.

  Nine

  Cara was dressed to impr
ess in a bottle-green suit. The long velvet skirt brushed against her leather boots as she walked. Her jacket nipped in at the waist and the deep reveres lay over a white high-neck lace blouse. Stepping into the office of Lander, Holmes & Durwood, she nodded at the secretary. Moments later she sat opposite Martin Lander.

  ‘I’m glad to see you again, Miss Flowers,’ Martin’s eyes twinkled as he smiled at her.

  ‘And I, you, Mr Lander.’ Cara returned the smile. ‘I have come to tell you that we have found Daisy Flowers and she is safe at home with her… my brother.’

  ‘That is very good news!’ Lander said as he clasped his hands together. ‘So what can I do for you today?’

  ‘Mr Lander… I need to be appointed to the Board of Guardians at the workhouse.’ Cara kept her voice calm.

  The smile on Martin’s face instantly disappeared and shock replaced it as he shot forward in his chair. He saw no smile on Cara’s face which told him she was not joking. ‘Miss Flowers! That, I’m afraid, is quite impossible!’ My God! he thought, this girl is perfectly serious! ‘Miss Flowers… Cara…’ Martin said in a placating manner, ‘the Board of Guardians are all well-respected gentlemen of the town. Businessmen who were elected to office by the parishioners. If you will forgive my saying, you are not well known in the town, you are not in business and… you are a woman.’

  Cara guessed he might cite these reasons and she readied herself. ‘Mr Lander, the Master is selling off the inmates!’ Her voice showed her disgust at the term used for the people forced into the workhouse through no fault of their own. ‘He is selling them as slaves to the wealthy!’

  ‘Do you have proof of your accusations, Miss Flowers?’ Martin was shocked at the outburst from who he saw as a delicate young woman.

  ‘Yes I do!’ Cara confirmed. ‘I have the paperwork I received in exchange for Charlie!’ She was becoming angry that she was making no inroads with this man.

  ‘May I see it please?’ Martin asked.

  Cara rummaged in her bag and produced the paper. She watched as the solicitor read it.

  Looking up, he sighed and said, ‘How much did you pay for Charlie’s release?’

  ‘Five pounds!’ Cara suddenly felt her stomach lurch, her anger suddenly turning to despair. ‘The amount is written on the paper… isn’t it?’

  Passing the paper back to her, Cara’s eyes scanned every word. There was no mention of any money exchanged. Tear-filled eyes looked at the man sat at the other side of the huge desk, his mouth set in a tight line. Cara wondered how she could have been so stupid.

  ‘Tulley is a sly one, Cara. I’m afraid you’ve been duped.’ Martin felt sorry for the beautiful girl sat in his office. ‘However, the saving grace is you did rescue Charlie and now you have found Daisy too.’

  Nodding, Cara put the paper back in her bag. ‘Thank you Mr Lander,’ she said as she rose to leave.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Miss Flowers, but don’t be disheartened.’ Martin rounded the desk to show her out.

  Giving a single nod, Cara walked through the open doorway, leaving the office without a backward glance. Her anger rose as she made her way home, by which time it was replaced by frustrated tears.

  Back home, Gracie patted Cara’s back gently as she cried, ‘Lander is right, Cara, the Board of Guardians… them’s dead men’s shoes.’ Seeing the puzzled look, Gracie explained: ‘You’d have to wait for one of them to die before applying for the position. Besides which, you being a woman… they’d never allow it.’

  ‘Oh Gracie, we have to do something… those poor children!’ Cara was adamant but at a loss as to what to do next.

  ‘Maybe we should concentrate on trying to find your parents first,’ Molly interjected.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Cara muttered, feeling utterly dejected.

  The cook and the maid exchanged a glance; they knew full well Cara was not about to let this go. Molly raised her eyebrows and Gracie gave an imperceptible shake of her head. They knew she was determined enough to find a way of trying to help the families living in Bilston workhouse.

  Lying in bed that night, Cara went over in her mind what she knew of the workhouse. The Relieving Officer would visit poor families in the parish and offer them a ‘ticket’ to the place, if it were deemed they could not provide for themselves adequately. She knew about the Local Government Board and the Board of Guardians. Other than what Charlie had told her she knew very little else and set her mind to finding out more. If she were to take on the might of these two prestigious boards, she had to be very sure of herself. As everyone had told her it was one thing to challenge the workhouse, it was quite another to do so as a woman!

  *

  Martin Lander had also set himself a task – for the past couple of days since Cara had announced her intentions of joining the Board of Guardians, he had been brushing up on his knowledge of the New Poor Law of 1834 and any revisions made in recent years. Searching out the necessary books, he began to read up on the law and he noted the main provisions were to discourage vagrancy; also, any relief given to the poor of the parish in their own homes was stopped.

  A grin came over his face as he noted that in 1875 in Kensington the first woman was appointed to the Board of Guardians. To apply for the position women had to meet the property requirement. This was good news and he felt Cara would be delighted. However, she would have to be voted in by the parishioners at the next elections. Scouring his books, he discovered the next round of elections was the following year. Cara had twelve months to make herself and her intentions known to the general populace. Leaning back in his chair, Martin wondered how the girl would go about it.

  Later that day, Lander telephoned Cara. She had called in the previous day and given him the number of the newly installed telephone system, ‘Miss Flowers, I have good news for you!’ he said excitedly.

  On the other end of the line, Cara listened carefully. This was the first time she had used the phone and it was proving very useful indeed. She’d spent the last couple of days, in between settling the children in, trying to come up with a plan for the workhouse, but all of her ideas had been fruitless, until now. Thanking Martin Cara placed the handset down and returned to the others in the kitchen. Explaining what Martin had told her, she grinned when Molly asked, ‘You ain’t thinking of becoming a member of the Board of Guardians, surely?’

  ‘I think that’s exactly what she has in mind!’ Gracie said.

  ‘According to Martin, I have one year to prepare for it. Now what I need are ideas on how to go about getting myself known in the town. I need to let people know I’m out to improve things for their benefit.’

  Charlie had stood quietly in the doorway listening to the conversation, then he said, ‘Start in the market.’

  Cara whipped round at his voice. “Oh Charlie, you startled me, I didn’t know you were there. Come on in and join us.”

  Charlie, closely followed by Daisy, moved into the kitchen. ‘The women in the market work long and hard and have a mortal fear of that workhouse.’

  ‘So you think I should get the women onside to further my cause?’ Cara asked.

  The boy nodded. ‘No woman wants to have to take her kids in that awful place. Unless someone steps in, it won’t ever get any better.’

  ‘The lad has a point there,’ Gracie said as she brought out some biscuits for the children.

  ‘Looks like I will have to campaign. I’m going to need a good strategy because the men on the current Board will not take kindly to a woman standing for election.’ Cara sat resting her elbows on the table, her chin on her hands. Daisy climbed onto a chair and mimicked her big sister’s actions, much to the amusement of them all. Quiet titters ran round the room as Cara sighed; Daisy did the same. Cara slapped her hands on the table; Daisy copied her. Cara’s hand went to her forehead, as did Daisy’s. Cara poked out her tongue and Daisy squealed with delight. Everyone fell about laughing.

  *

  After trawling the market and engaging
in lengthy discussions with the women who stood the stalls, Cara was left feeling despondent to say the least. They all gave the same answers to her questions. Yes, they wanted something done about the workhouse. Yes, they thought it was a good idea to have a woman on the Board of Guardians. Yes, given the chance they would elect her onto that Board. However, it was only the men who were allowed to vote in those elections. Cara knew now she would have to find another way to achieve her goal.

  Dragging herself home to The Laburnums, she found herself walking along Wellington Street. Her eyes followed the dirt track that led up to Green Lanes where the workhouse was situated. On one side of the dirt road stood some empty buildings. These were mostly small cottages falling into ruin. She noticed they were in three blocks of three… nine empty dilapidated cottages, surrounded by heathland. Cara wondered who they belonged to and why they were being left to eventually fall down.

  Walking up the dirt track, she stepped towards the first short row of buildings as a thought formulated in her mind. What if she could discover who they belonged to? What if she could buy them? Having a good look around each cottage, she saw they were not as bad as she first thought. Her excitement grew at the prospect she had in mind.

  Cara worked on her plan as she strode purposefully back into the town. There was someone she needed to see.

  Ten

  Fred Tulley had been informed that there were five more families coming into the workhouse… the ‘Spike’ as it was colloquially known. It was believed the name had derived from inmates using a large metal spike in their work of oakum picking. Tulley walked from his office through the dark corridor to the boys’ exercise yard, which was a patch of ground surrounded by buildings. It was empty; the boys would be hard at work at this time of the day.

  Along the corridor again, he crossed through a small room and out onto the girls’ exercise yard, which was precisely the same layout. The girls were all dressed in identical dresses. Some ambled around the dirt patch lethargically, while others sat holding their stomachs and groaning.