The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Contemplating the predicament, he mused the girl was not breaking any laws, so how could he put a stop to her? Despite putting a stop to her entering the workhouse, the numbers were still dwindling. He frowned as he thought she was doing as much damage outside the walls as in. Could he discredit her in some way? He felt it most unlikely – the folk of Bilston saw her as their saviour. How had all this come about? And so quickly? One minute no one had ever heard of her, the next she was a celebrity! Maybe Fred Tulley would have some ideas; he was a sly old bugger! Joseph determined to have words with the man on his next visit to the ‘Spike’.

  *

  Fred and Ada Tulley had problems of their own to deal with. They had no cook, doctor or schoolmaster, which meant they were breaking the workhouse rulings. The advertisement had been placed in the newspaper regarding these empty posts, but no one had come forth to take them up, and Fred knew why. Nobody wanted to work at or for the workhouse. He sat in his office and considered, having the Magistrate onside helped… for the moment, but for how much longer? With only around fifty in the workhouse now and no more coming in due to the tickets not being taken up, he continued to fear for his job. If the place were to close, he would be out of work and a home, with a harridan of a wife to support. Whatever would he do then? The thought made him shiver.

  With the inmates settled for the night, Fred returned to his quarters. The rooms were in darkness and there was no smell of supper cooking. Lighting the oil lamp, he carried it through the living room and into the bedroom. The wardrobe door stood open, showing it to be empty. Going to the kitchen, he saw his wife was not in there either. He checked the mustard powder tin where they kept their savings. It was also empty. Ada had left! She had gathered her things and gone!

  ‘Ada Tulley, you dirty rotten bitch!’ Fred shouted at the top of his lungs as he threw the mustard tin across the room. Then plonking himself down in his chair, he muttered, ‘Damn my eyes, if that don’t take the bloody biscuit!’

  At nine o’clock the porter arrived with the gate keys as he did every night.

  ‘Have you seen the Matron today?’ Fred asked.

  ‘Ar, her went off this afternoon,’ the Porter answered.

  ‘Where to?’ Fred asked as he rubbed his whiskers.

  ‘Ain’t got a clue, she don’t tell me nothing,’ The Porter replied with a wry grin.

  ‘She don’t tell me much more,’ Fred scowled back.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll be back.’ The Porter watched for Tulley’s reaction.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Cos, her had a carpet bag with her. Smacks of leaving home, if you ask me.’ The Porter shook his head.

  ‘Oh she’s left al lright, and she’s taken all my money with her!’ Fred’s rage was mounting again.

  The Porter pursed his lips and sucked in a noisy breath.

  Fred dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  As the porter left, Fred dropped into a chair, unable to believe his wife had slipped away without a word. On one hand he was glad to be rid of her, but on the other he was furious with her. He knew, without a Matron, the Master would be dismissed! Added to that he now had no savings to get by on. Cursing, he banged around in the kitchen like a spoilt child.

  Leaning his head back, he screamed at the top of his lungs, ‘Ada Tulley… I’ll get you for this, you bitch!’

  *

  Twenty-Four

  The snow fell steadily and silently, forming white piles on windowsills and rooftops. The trees had long since lost their leaves and lay in lazy slumber for the duration; the ground beneath winter’s white cloak was granite hard. There was no birdsong to be heard and the town took on a very different look.

  A knock on the front door of The Laburnums revealed a near frozen Bertha Jenkins. Invited in by Molly, she warmed herself by the parlour fire. Bertha had come to give Cara her thanks. She was now the cook at the school in Bow Street.

  ‘They told me as how you had telephoned them and recommended me to be their cook. They called me in for a… well, to see me and I was taken on there and then! I ain’t half grateful. Thanks, from the bottom of my heart, thanks,’ Bertha gushed.

  Gracie and Molly and the children joined them for tea and cake, and gossip was exchanged before Bertha said quietly, ‘Cara…’

  Cara’s heart dropped like a stone… Bertha had more to say. Then the cook’s tone changed to one of joy, ‘It would seem Mrs Tulley, the Matron, has left the workhouse! The word is all over the town!’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Gracie spluttered, droplets of tea flying everywhere. Young Daisy giggled and Charlie drew his lips together tightly in an effort not to laugh.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Cara couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Ar,’ Bertha resumed, ‘that means the Master will be chucked out an’ all!’

  Cara closed her eyes sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to the Almighty.

  ‘But Cara… there’s something you need to see.’

  ‘What?’ Molly interjected, unable to contain herself.

  ‘You’ll have to come with me to the other side of the town, then you can see for yourselves.’ Bertha would not be drawn into saying more.

  Wrapping themselves in warm clothes, Gracie and Cara joined Bertha to walk down Proud’s Lane. Molly elected to stay home with the children. Cara wondered what could be so important as to drag them out into such cold weather.

  At the end of the Lane, Cara hailed the waiting cab and the women climbed aboard, Bertha giving the cabbie the address they needed to visit. Gracie and Cara overheard Bertha’s words but had no idea about the area they were to visit as they had not been there before. The horse walked on, occasionally slipping on the icy ground, unable to find purchase with his horse shoes. The cabbie kept the horse to a steady walk along the streets and out onto the heath, having crossed the railroad on Millfields Road. Stopping the carriage by a small row of dilapidated buildings, he parked in the lea side out of the bitter wind; wrapped in a blanket, he settled down to wait.

  The women climbed from the cab and looked over the cottages. These dwellings belonged to the occupants, bought when their men were in work in the colliery and earning a fair wage. Money had been scrimped and saved for years on end to achieve their goal of owning their own homes, even if they were only two up, two down and in a sorry state. Cara saw dirty net curtains twitch as Bertha led them towards the door of the first building in the row. Rapping the door soundly, she called out, ‘It’s only me!’

  Cara frowned, wondering if those inside would know who ‘me’ was. The door opened and Bertha marched in, with Cara and Gracie close behind.

  ‘This lady here is Cara Flowers,’ she said, proudly pushing Cara forward.

  The thin woman Bertha spoke to dropped onto an old kitchen chair and burst into tears. She sobbed like her heart would break and Cara was mortified at the reaction. Looking at Bertha, questions written all over her face about why the woman was crying, Cara saw Bertha raise a hand, asking they wait for the woman to regain control.

  Cara’s eyes took in the very small living room with a tiny fireplace. There were no ornaments or keepsakes lining the shelf above the grate. There were no pictures on the walls and the plaster was crumbling away. Glancing back to the woman sat crying, Cara saw her dress was torn and shabby, she wondered how much longer it would last. The woman’s hair was lank, and her dirty hands held fingernails chewed down to the quick.

  After a few moments the woman, Gladys Percival, wiped her nose on the hem of her cotton dress and said, ‘Oh thank the Lord! My husband is out standing the “Bread Line”. He couldn’t face it after the colliery he worked at closed down, but seeing the state we’re in, he finally managed to stir his stumps and get his arse out there. Oh, begging your pardon, Miss Flowers.’ The woman apologized for her turn of phrase before continuing. ‘My two boys are coal picking on the slag heaps of that dross which was cleared from the earth by the miners!’

  Cara glanced again at the dead fire in the hearth. The room was
as cold as the wind that whipped outside and she shivered. She noted there was one chair, the one the woman now sat on. No other furniture was in evidence in the small living room. At Bertha’s nod, the woman stood and hooked her finger for them to follow her into the kitchen. Cara saw the cupboards, with no doors, were empty.

  Gladys said, ‘We had to use the cupboard doors for firewood in an effort to beat off the cold.’

  Following her up the dark bare staircase, Cara was led into each of the two bedrooms. She gasped when she saw two straw mattresses on the floor of each room. These were the only things in there. No cupboards – no clothes! Cara was horrified.

  Back in the living room once more, Gladys explained, ‘We prayed you would find us. The Relieving Officer has come time after time and we refused him, but we was fast reaching the point of accepting a ticket to that workhouse. The market folk have been good to my boys who have had to scavenge often, but they can only help so much.’ Cara saw the woman’s pride wither before her very eyes.

  It was the same story as Cara and Gracie were taken to each cottage in the row, twelve on one side and five on the other side of a dirt track that divided them. All were empty of food and furniture. There was no offer of tea, for there was none; nor any coal to light fires to boil kettles.

  After visiting the last cottage, Cara climbed silently back into the carriage with Bertha and Gracie.

  The cottagers watched her go from their dirty windows. Would she help them? She had not actually said she would. She had merely thanked them for their time and left. Would this guardian angel forsake them and leave them to their fate? Refusing to believe this of the kind young woman, they settled down to wait.

  Cara Flowers cried the whole way home. She knew about the poor but had never seen such poverty as she had that day. Once her tears had dried she formulated her plan.

  Back in the parlour at The Laburnums once more, Cara said, ‘Sam, I want you to hire six men with the largest carts and meet me at the Atlas Bedstead works off Bradley Street. Also I want the allotment workers and their tools over to the cottages on Millfields Road sharpish. Gracie and Molly, I need you to go to town for food – buy as much as will fit into and onto two cabs and take it to Gladys and her neighbours.’

  As everyone rushed out to accomplish their tasks, Cara bundled Charlie and Daisy into the cab that was still waiting in the driveway of her house before getting in herself.

  The cabbie set off for Chapel Street first where Cara requested the help of her male tenants.

  Then the cabbie moved on to the Atlas Works.

  Cara asked to see the manager, and seated in his office, she said, ‘I need your help.’

  The manager eyed the pretty young woman. At last he was meeting the famous Miss Flowers.

  ‘I need beds and mattresses, lots of them, to be delivered to the cottages in Millfields Road – today!’ Handing over a slip of paper containing the house numbers and how many beds were needed for each, Cara watched the man scan her writing.

  Walking to the door, he whistled loudly across the factory floor, before retaking his seat. In but a moment the foreman dashed into the office. Seeing Cara, he tipped his cap and nodded.

  Giving the paper to the foreman, the manager asked, ‘Today?’

  ‘Ar, we can manage this,’ the foreman said, then turning to Cara he added, ‘Nice to meet you, Miss Flowers.’ He was out the door before she could speak.

  Looking at the manager, she said, ‘Thank you so very much. Would you be kind enough to invoice me at The Laburnums?’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ the manager said, ‘I can telephone the mattress factory with your order too if it will help.’

  Cara beamed, ‘It will help enormously! Thank you.’

  By the time Cara’s carriage and the six carters arrived in Millfields Road, work was well underway on the old buildings. Windows were being mended, draughts were stopped by doors being fitted properly, and chimneys were swept. The husbands had returned from standing the ‘Bread Line’ and were happily helping out. The beds were manoeuvred into their resting places and fires were lit from a few bags of coal brought by the workers. The one standpipe that served all the families was lagged tightly and was working overtime as water was pumped into kettles and then hung on brackets over the fires now burning brightly in the hearths.

  Cara requested the carters, with their vehicles now free of the beds from the Atlas works, to fetch enough coal to last the winter and invoices were to be sent to her at her home address.

  As the carters moved off, two carriages arrived, full to overflowing with food, bedding and warm clothes. Cara helped the women unload the goods, their happy faces glowing in the cold air. It warmed her heart to see such joy at what she considered simple things. She had always taken for granted there would be food in the pantry and clothes in the cupboards, but now she realized just how lucky she was. She watched children wait patiently as mothers sorted through the clothes to find some that would fit. They took them though whether they fit properly or not, they weren’t going to fuss over details, they could work with whatever they had.

  Bertha Jenkins appeared shortly afterwards with one of the women from ‘Cara’s Cakes’ loaded down with baskets of freshly baked bread, pastries and cakes.

  One little boy about Daisy’s age came up to her and said shyly, ‘Thank you Miss Flowers.’ Cara gave him a hug and as she looked up she saw his mother beaming proudly, a tear glinting in her eye.

  Millfields Road was a flurry of activity; men hammering and banging, women sobbing as they brewed tea and children squealing with delight as they dug through the snow for any kindling sticks they could find. As the light began to fade, Cara prepared to leave. Suddenly she was surrounded by people who were sobbing, clapping and cheering. Gracie, Molly and the children climbed into the waiting cab and Cara joined them, waving goodbye to the grateful people who stood in the snow and waved her off.

  Alighting the cab at home, Cara made to pay the cabbie who she’d hired for the day.

  ‘Don’t want your money, Miss Flowers,’ the cabbie said, ‘what you did for those folk today… well, buy the kiddies some “suck” instead.’ The big burly cabbie wiped away a tear as he turned the horse around and set off down the drive.

  *

  Martin sat thinking about his sweetheart and how far she’d come in such a short time. Her grandmother, Henrietta Selby, would have been very proud of her grand-daughter’s achievements. Cara Flowers was revered all over Bilston.

  And now she had made herself an appointment with Isaac Ballard, at the Local Government Board office. She was going over the heads of the Board of Guardians… she was about to speak with the organ grinder – not the monkey!

  Taking a little box from his pocket, he lifted its lid. Wedged on a tiny red velvet cushion sat a gold ring with a sparkling diamond set atop golden shoulders. Brushing a finger over the ring, he smiled. Would she accept if he asked her? Would Cara Flowers marry him? Drawing in a deep breath, he held it for a moment praying she would. Snapping the box shut, he held it tight in his hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Please God, let her say yes!

  Replacing the box in his pocket, Martin thought about their upcoming appointment. Dr Cooper and Bertha Jenkins were to accompany them to add weight to what Cara had to tell the Board. He wondered what the outcome of their meeting would be. There was nothing he wanted more than to see Cara achieve her ultimate goal, but what then? If she succeeded in closing down the workhouse, where would she go from there? He sincerely doubted she would want to just be a housewife. What he was sure of was whatever she chose to do… she would succeed. He needed to support her, too, as she strove to support him.

  Martin was aware of Cara’s father’s death some years before and there was no record of any other Flowers children born in this Parish other than Charlie and Daisy. Also Mrs Selby was clearly unaware of their existence when she made the will as the huge inheritance had been left to Cara alone. Charlie and Daisy could at some point
contest this, and he would help all he could if that situation arose. Martin smiled. So that just left Cara’s mother… if she were still alive. Certainly no death certificate for Elizabeth Flowers had come to light.

  Staring through the window, he watched the snow fall silently and he wondered, not for the first time, why Cara had been raised by her grandmother. Whatever had happened to have caused the situation to arise, Martin felt it must have been traumatic for all involved. Then Elizabeth Flowers had given birth to Charlie and Daisy – but she had abandoned them. Why? Had she been forced into that decision somehow? Or had she, herself, chosen to leave her children behind?

  Martin knew the only way to answer these questions was to discover the whereabouts of Elizabeth Flowers.

  *

  The work on the cottages in Millfields Road stopped for the night as the temperature dropped dramatically.

  Each cottage had a fire in the hearth and the aroma of cooking, the first in a very long time, filled the kitchens. Some of the children had beds to sleep in for the first time in their lives and couldn’t wait to try them out. Parents talked quietly, almost reverently, about the young woman who had arrived to save their lives. The men had been promised work as soon as Cara was able to provide it. Their prayers had been answered. Thanking the Lord for their good fortune, they also silently thanked Bertha Jenkins for her intervention on their behalf.

  One thing they knew for sure now was the Relieving Officer would certainly have a shock the next time he called! He wouldn’t be able to believe his eyes when he saw the work done on the properties, the new curtains hung, the windows cleaned and sparkling, and the children in better clothing. Spotting all this, he would have to turn and walk away, shoving the tickets in his pocket as he went.

  Twenty-Five

  Fred Tulley squirmed under the disbelieving gaze of the Board of Guardians as they sat in the boardroom. He had explained that his wife had left him and the workhouse.