The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Mr and Mrs Tulley ambled back to the office and Ada said, ‘I’m glad to see the back of that one!’

  ‘You stupid woman!’ Fred rasped. His anger was at its peak as he rounded on her. ‘This is all your fault! You pinch a penny and the kids get sick. One of them dies and I have to pay that bloody doctor. Then we almost get chucked out by the Board… and now we’ve lost a worker to the asylum!’

  Ada stared at her husband whose face was blood red with temper. ‘She attacked me… twice!’ Ada screamed back. ‘She could have killed me!’

  ‘You know what… she should have tried harder!’ Fred glared at his wife; he was at boiling point and a vein in his neck began to pulse. ‘Now, to top it all, we’ve got Lander and that bloody girl coming to offer work to four more men!’

  ‘I didn’t know about that!’ Ada Tulley snapped.

  ‘You don’t have to know everything, you’re only second in command here… something you’d do well to remember!’ Fred’s voice bounced off the office walls. ‘Now, go and do something useful… welcome our guests.’

  Ada harrumphed as she spun around; leaving the office, she banged the door shut behind her.

  Tulley sighed heavily as he slumped into his chair. His thoughts began to swirl in his brain. That wife of his was becoming a nuisance, as was the woman about to visit with her solicitor friend. His job was hard enough without all this nonsense, and that blasted Miss Flowers wasn’t helping any by taking his inmate workers. Maybe it was time to leave the workhouse, find employment elsewhere. If he did move he could leave that termagant of a wife behind – it might be worth doing for that reason alone. As he sat thinking about his wife, he realized just how much things had changed between them. They had married more for companionship than for love, and over the years even that had slowly died. This latest incident had just about killed any feeling he had for Ada.

  A sharp rap on the door shattered his thoughts. ‘Come!’ he yelled.

  Cara and Martin walked in each sporting a smile, which Tulley returned with a grimace. This was the last thing he needed.

  *

  The families had called their new homes by a nickname, ‘Cara’s Cottages’, and they gathered in the sunshine to share a mid-morning cup of tea. Their conversation centred on the young woman who had cared enough to offer them a home and a job. Who was she? Why had she done what she did? Clearly her cottages were in sore need of renovation, but why not hire men from the ‘bread line’ to restore them?

  The ‘bread line’ constituted a line of men who gathered at strategic points in the town every day in the hope of finding work. These men needed to ‘earn a crust’, which was what was thought to have given rise to the name. The businessmen knew where to find workers if they were needed, but more often than not, the men returned home with no work. So it came as a surprise to the families that Cara had selected them as opposed to employing men from the breadline.

  The children of the families were busy running over the scrubland collecting sticks for the fires as their parents continued their conversation. The mothers didn’t care why Cara had chosen the path she had, they were just grateful she had done so.

  It was then that Gracie and Molly arrived with Charlie and Daisy, who immediately dashed off to join the other kids. The cook and maid were loaded down with mop heads and stales, buckets, old linen to be torn into cleaning rags, soap, pots and pans, tools for the men… as much as they were able to drag on a handcart. Cara had also sent a little money for each family to buy items such as wind-up clocks, scraps of material to be made into curtains, and some second-hand clothes for the children.

  Over a welcome cup of tea, Gracie explained in more detail Cara’s plan to help as many people as she could, to get out, and stay out, of the workhouse.

  Gathered around, the Johnsons listened as Gracie spoke quietly. ‘Cara’s grandmother, on her deathbed, set Cara a challenge to find any family belonging to her, and she asked Molly and me to help.’ Molly nodded and Gracie went on. ‘Well, she found young Charlie in the workhouse and got him out. Old Tulley had sold Daisy on and so we went looking for her. Daisy had run away, but Cara found her in the end. Then our Cara had the idea to join the Board of Guardians and, as you can imagine, that didn’t work out, what with her being a woman an’ all. So her other idea was to buy up these cottages to use to house families from the workhouse. That way she could get whole families out, rather than just the odd person here and there. Cara won’t rest until she sees that place shut down.’

  Now her new tenants had a better idea of the young woman and the reasons she worked so hard with the poor, their admiration for her grew tenfold. They felt they had their very own guardian angel.

  *

  Fred Tulley called for quiet from the men who were working the stone and bone crushing. Looking at Martin Lander, he stepped back without being asked and he returned the curt nod given by Martin Lander.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen. I am looking for four men with families, to work on some old cottages I have bought,’ Cara said. She watched as the unmarried men moved back, a look of sadness crossing each face. She thought that although she hadn’t got around to these men as yet, she would before too long. That still left a lot of men standing before them. ‘I will take the four who have the most children with me today, but I will be back, gentlemen, be assured of that.’

  Cara turned to Fred Tulley in time to see him roll his eyes. She flashed a satisfied smile his way and straightened her back. Tulley gave an audible disgruntled sniff, screwing up his nose in answer. Cara was proud that in a matter of days she had already reduced the number of people suffering workhouse life and she hoped in the not too distant future she would reduce the number entirely.

  Again Martin and Cara awaited their new charges outside the gate and after the obligatory three hours the excited group were trudging down the dirt track to their new homes.

  The families already ensconced in their cottages came out to greet the new members of their little hamlet, and tea and food was shared. It was a Black Country tradition to offer tea immediately as a visitor arrived and Cara and Martin enjoyed theirs as introductions took place. Squeals of delight echoed across the patch of heathland as all the children began to play together; they were thoroughly enjoying running around freely. Cara knew that these children, as gaunt as they looked now, would be fighting fit in a few days’ time.

  Lander watched Cara as she observed the people getting reacquainted. She was beaming with the joy of it and he felt an overwhelming desire to hold her in his arms. Then as he thought of his own predicament he knew he had nothing to offer her. Although still a lawyer, he now had no office to work from and no work to do. He would have to tell Cara, but as he watched her laugh and talk with the people around her, he couldn’t bring himself to spoil her happiness.

  *

  The Board of Guardians were informed that the numbers in the workhouse were reducing and people were finding work, but Fred Tulley was clearly disgruntled. He was afraid if this went on he might find himself out of work.

  Sitting in their living room that evening as the inmates settled for the night, an eerie silence crept over the building. Most nights he could hear children crying or women sobbing, but this night there was nothing.

  ‘It’s quiet tonight,’ he muttered to his wife as she drank her beer. ‘I wonder why?’

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ Ada said, wiping the beer froth from her mouth with the back of her hand. She ignored her husband’s look of distaste.

  ‘Think it has anything to do with that Flowers woman giving out jobs willy-nilly?’ Fred asked.

  ‘Maybe. P’raps they hope she’ll come back for them.’ Ada cackled then poured herself another beer from the jug on the table.

  Fred screwed up his face in disgust. His wife was a drunkard and with each passing day he disliked her more and more. ‘Well, I ain’t having that!’ he snapped as he heaped coal on the fire.

  ‘Oh no? And what, may I arshk har you going to do about
it?’ Ada’s words slurred as she spoke.

  ‘I don’t rightly know as yet, but I’ll think of something.’ Ada cackled again and Fred’s temper flared. ‘Get yourself to bed, you drunken baggage!’

  Draining her glass, Ada rose unsteadily to her feet and wove her way to the bedroom, giggling drunkenly as she went. Fred heard her crashing about and sniggering as she attempted to ready herself for sleep.

  Whatever happened with Lander and Flowers, Fred felt it was definitely time to be rid of his crapulous wife one way or another!

  *

  Ada woke in the night with a dreadful thirst. Moving quietly into the living room so as not to wake Fred, she poured herself another beer… and another. She continued to drink until she was quite drunk again.

  With a cackle, she grabbed an oil lamp and lit it with a wobbly hand. Snatching her walking stick from the umbrella stand, she slipped through the door and hobbled down the dark and deserted corridor. Quietly she made her way to the boys’ dormitory.

  ‘Time for some more fun with the “basket treatment”,’ she muttered. Placing the lamp on the floor, she readied herself. All the boys were sleeping peacefully… for now. With a yell, she strode the length of the room banging her stick on the wooden bed frames. Groans came from the sleeping boys; they all knew what was coming.

  ‘Come on, you lazy little buggersh… get up and get them kecks off!’ Ada slurred with a drunken grin.

  Taking off their under drawers, the boys stood in a line as naked as the day they were born. One young lad went to a cupboard and retrieved a pile of wicker baskets. Each boy was given a basket which they sat on their head and the line began to slowly walk forward. Ada wobbled alongside the line with the stick in her hand.

  The youngest lad’s basket began to slip and before he could catch it, it fell to the floor. Ada struck out at the child’s bare bottom sharply with her stick and the child screamed out at the pain she inflicted. Ada cackled again.

  Time after time, the boys walked the length of the dormitory. Throughout the following hour, almost every boy received a sharp whack with the stick. Ada, tired at last, sat on the one chair that stood by the door. The boys continued to walk as they watched the Matron fall sound asleep.

  As the baskets were put back in the cupboard, the children crept silently back to bed rubbing their sore rumps. One basket had been left out.

  *

  Fred arose the following morning and wondering where Ada was, he began his search of the building. Stomping down the corridors, his temper mounting, he eventually found Ada sitting in the chair in the boys’ empty dormitory, snoring loudly in a drunken stupor. His anger dissipated as he could not restrain the grin that crept to his face. Ada was wearing a basket on her head which reminded him of the straw hats the donkeys wore in the summer.

  Knocking the basket to the floor, Fred yelled, ‘Ada! This has to stop!’

  Ada leapt out of the chair, instantly wishing she hadn’t. Holding her head, she groaned.

  ‘Ada!’ Fred yelled again.

  ‘Don’t shout! I ain’t deaf… and I’ve got a headache.’ Swaying on her feet, she decided it would be safer to sit down once more. Dropping into the chair, she groaned her discomfort.

  ‘Ada,’ Fred said quieter now, ‘get a grip, woman! You can’t keep doing this, you’ll have us thrown out!’

  ‘I was only having a bit of fun, God knows I don’t get any with you!’ Ada cradled her aching head once more.

  Turning to walk away, Fred shouted loudly, ‘Ada Tulley you are a bloody disgrace!’

  Ada winced before gingerly standing to totter back to their quarters. With a mouth like sandpaper and a brass band playing in her head, Ada felt only another beer would help.

  Draining her second glass, Ada began to feel a little better when the living room door flew open and her husband marched in.

  Standing in front of her, legs astride and knuckles on hips, Fred said sharply, ‘Ada, it’s time you quit your drinking!’

  Ada raised an eyebrow in a confrontational gesture. ‘Fred, it’s time you buggered off!’

  Fred raged, ‘I am the Master here! What I say, goes! Now I say you must stop this behaviour. I cannot allow it to go on any longer!’

  Ada came back with, ‘I say, if bullshit was music, you’d have your own jazz band!’

  Fred shook his head and stormed from the room.

  Ada cackled as she poured yet more beer. ‘Jazz band… that weren’t bad, Ada… not bad at all.’ Taking a long drink of her ale, she smacked her lips and propped her feet up on the table.

  Fourteen

  Sitting by the fireside at home, Martin Lander reflected on his current predicament. He no longer had an office or a business, just one single case remained on his books. Fortunately Cara paid his fees on time, plus he had some savings, and with the money from the sale of his share of the business, he was nowhere near destitute. However, his money would not last forever, so he needed to acquire new business.

  Martin had not argued in his own defence; the partners had been correct. Yes he had been neglecting his other work in favour of the Flowers case, and yes he’d intended to strike out on his own but he hadn’t thought it to be quite so soon.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the trill of the telephone. ‘Martin, I’m so glad you’re home. I wondered if you would care to come to dinner this evening.’ Cara’s voice filled him with desire once more.

  Having readily accepted her invitation, he immediately went to wash and change his clothes. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Martin decided to walk to The Laburnums rather than take a cab ride. He thought, as he went, it would help conserve his money, albeit by only a few pennies, and the exercise would be good for him. It was a pleasant stroll from his house in Alice Street and along Duke Street. Passing the office he had so recently vacated, he turned into Arthur Street which crossed over the railway lines. The sun began to shine as the first days of spring had taken hold and he ambled along into Dover Street. It was all he could do not to rush up to Proud’s Lane, but he didn’t want to arrive hot and breathless.

  He stopped at the sound of the steam train’s whistle as it thundered past. He watched the clouds of steam puff up into the air and dissipate slowly. The smell of burning coal in the steam reached his nose and he breathed it in. Martin Lander loved the progress the small town was making, what with the steam trains and new telephone exchange, but some things lingered in the past; the workhouse being one of them. It clung desperately to old tradition and refused to be brought into these exciting new times.

  Martin considered this as he resumed his walk. He could understand how Cara was so passionate about helping to improve life for the poor. How was it, in this modern life and times, there could still be such a huge divide between the rich and the poor? Would that situation ever change in the years to come? Sadly, he felt it would not.

  *

  ‘Daisy!’ Charlie scolded. ‘Use your knife and fork!’

  ‘Fingers came before cutlery, that’s what our mum used to say!’ Daisy answered with her nose in the air in an act of defiance. She sniffed and continued to use her hands to eat, daring her brother to challenge her again. Seeing him concede by shaking his head, Daisy gave a curt nod feeling pleased she’d won that round.

  Laughter sounded around the room as Martin glanced at Cara. The candles on the table flickered and cast a glow on her blonde hair and as she looked back at him, the reflected light danced in her cornflower blue eyes. Martin’s heart skipped a beat as he stared unashamedly at his hostess.

  Molly and Gracie exchanged a knowing smile as they saw Martin’s gaze.

  Martin sucked in a breath, this seemed as good a time as any to explain about his having left the office. ‘Cara,’ he began tentatively, ‘I have to tell you I am no longer a partner at the office… the others have bought me out.’

  Cara was shocked at the news and everyone listened as he explained the circumstances that now saw him attempting to work from home. No
t wanting to admit he’d been spending too much time on Cara’s case, Martin gave them a potted version of the facts.

  ‘I am grateful though that I remain your solicitor,’ he said finally.

  ‘Oh Martin! I’m so sorry… this is all my fault!’ Cara wailed.

  ‘No!’ Martin snapped. ‘This is most definitely not your fault. Besides, it was time I struck out on my own.’

  Gracie asked, ‘How can we help?’

  ‘Well, I will need an office, something small… you could help me look for one.’ Martin was grateful these people, who had come together as a family, had welcomed him into their circle. ‘I don’t want to spend all my savings on a building to work from in case the work doesn’t come in. After all, I certainly don’t want to end up residing with Mr Tulley in the workhouse!’ He gave an involuntary shudder at the mere thought of ending up in that dreadful place.

  ‘Martin,’ Cara said, ‘Mr Harris has been most helpful to me regarding property. I feel sure he would have an appropriate building on his books where you could set up an office.’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ he said, his mood lifting. ‘Then I will need to bring in some work – I’ll need clients.’

  ‘That’s easy,’ Cara laughed. ‘Place an advertisement in the newspapers. Businessmen will always need a good lawyer, and your excellent reputation precedes you! Once people know you now have your own office, they will assume you are doing extremely well. This in turn will tell them you are the best, therefore they will come straight to you.’

  ‘But I’m not doing extremely well!’ The despondency in his voice was evident to everyone.

  ‘No, not yet, but the people don’t know that! No one needs to know the circumstances surrounding your leaving the partnership! Once they see your advertisement, I guarantee the work will pour in!’ Cara’s excitement shone in her eyes.