The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

‘Christ! I don’t believe this!’ Tulley ran his hands through his hair.

  ‘Well you’d better because I’m here. Now then, once I’m settled in you can show me around.’ Ada puckered her lips and sent her husband air kisses.

  Fred scowled and shuddered at the thought of having to share his life and bed with this woman again. As he stomped from the office, he thought, I should have killed her when I had the chance!

  Ada Tulley followed behind her husband, cackling like an old witch.

  *

  The whole of Bilston was buzzing about the demolition of the old workhouse. The wealthier residents were reading about it in the newspapers over their breakfast tables; the poorer people were gossiping in the market and over garden fences. Whatever their social standing, the people of the town were delighted to be rid of the building once and for all; the horror of the place had never been far from people’s thoughts.

  The freezing winds had dropped and the inclement weather had warmed a little as Cara travelled by her usual cab to visit her tenants. It seemed the cabbie had deemed himself responsible for transporting her to and from her appointments and visits, and was always on hand at the end of her driveway.

  With everything in order and going well with the people she visited, the cab travelled on to Green Lanes. A group of onlookers whispered to each other as Cara alighted the cab. Smiling broadly at the gawkers, she walked gingerly across the muddy ground to the men piling up bricks. Pleased to see her, they updated her on the progress, which she could see for herself was well underway. At the rate it was going, she mused, the building would be reduced to rubble in no time. Then they could clear the land in readiness for the blocks of houses to be built.

  Work ceased for a short period while Cara was given tea in a tin cup and chatted with the workers.

  Happy with the work being undertaken, Cara climbed into the cab once more and set off for home. To her surprise Martin was waiting for her as she arrived.

  Cara told him about her grandmother’s diaries over tea in the kitchen and shared the story of her mother and father.

  Sitting around the fire later that evening, Daisy perched herself between Gracie and Molly on the sofa and Charlie occupied an easy chair. Cara sat in the other easy chair and Martin sat on the floor, leaning his back against her seat.

  ‘Won’t you read the diaries to us?’ Daisy asked with the innocence of youth.

  ‘Maybe one day, Daisy, but not now.’

  ‘Awww,’ Daisy moaned.

  ‘Why don’t you and Charlie play a game? Maybe if you ask nicely he’ll let you play with his soldiers.’ Cara was trying her best to distract Daisy’s attention from the diaries.

  Later when Cara retired to bed, she began to read once more.

  Cara is doing so well in school, I’m so proud of her. She was awarded a book as first prize in a writing competition. Christmas is looming and she is excited about Santa calling at the house.

  Cara turned the pages carefully as she continued to read.

  As school began after the holiday, Cara came down with a cold. Poor little mite, she is feeling thoroughly miserable. Still I have received no word from Elizabeth; I can only hope she is well.

  In another diary.

  It is devastating to have no word of or from my only daughter. How I miss her. God willing she will contact me one day. I visited her cottage again this afternoon, but there was no sign of life. I will continue my search for Elizabeth, but as time passes I am beginning to lose all hope.

  On yet another page;

  Yet another fruitless search, it is my contention Elizabeth must have moved away from the area altogether.

  Written on the last page of the diary she was reading Cara drew in a breath as her eyes scanned the words.

  I heard on the market grapevine today that John Flowers has died in a carting accident. I’m unsure when this occurred or even if it is true. I visited the cottage again – to no avail. It was empty. I’m thinking it’s time to give up my search and concentrate my energy on Cara. I have to give her my all now to ensure she grows into a fine young lady. It grieves me to abandon the search for Elizabeth, but I see no other choice. I’m so afraid she may have died in the accident too! My heart is broken!

  Cara choked on those last words and felt the tears begin to rise.

  As she closed the diary, the questions began to form in her mind. What had happened to Elizabeth after John’s death? Had she died too? If not, where had she gone? Where was she now? If she managed to find her mother, would she welcome Cara contacting her? Or would she be shunned? Did her grandma know about Charlie and Daisy, Cara suspected not as there’d been no mention of them.

  Exhausted by it all, she lay back on her pillows and whispered, ‘I don’t know where to look for you, Elizabeth Flowers, but I will do my best. I won’t give up trying to find you.’

  Thirty

  Dr Cooper had been called out by the superintendent to visit the lunatic asylum. She had telephoned to request his attendance to administer to a woman who had been attacked by another, resulting in what she thought might be a head trauma.

  The building was situated on the edge of the town, as the workhouse had been, and was surrounded by a high wall with a huge locked wrought-iron gate. Every window had bars on the outside to prevent anyone from escaping, and each ‘cell’ door was locked.

  The men were segregated from the women and all were only allowed out of their rooms, at separate times, at meal times and the hours set aside for exercise and activities. The more severely affected were kept locked up night and day.

  Dr Cooper was given admittance by an attendant.

  ‘There’s been an altercation in the dining room,’ the attendant said over her shoulder as she led the doctor down the corridors, ‘although no one is sure why. We think it may have occurred over one woman stealing the food of another.’

  The wails of some of the patients bounced off the walls as they heard the footsteps pass by their rooms. It sent a shiver down the doctor’s spine. Stopping outside a door, the attendant unhooked a metal plate at eye level and as it dropped it revealed a slit. The doctor peered in and saw a rail-thin woman sitting on the bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hands were holding either side of her head as she rocked from side to side. Wide eyes stared at the doctor as the attendant unlocked the door, and he entered the room warily and introduced himself to the bedraggled woman.

  The woman on the bed did not answer Dr Cooper as he talked quietly. ‘I’m not here to hurt you, I just need to see to your injury.’ Her wild eyes constantly flitted from him to the attendant standing in the doorway. She hissed as he moved towards her and the attendant stepped forward, a wooden baton in her hand. The woman shrank back, trying to push herself further into the corner.

  Dr Cooper approached the terrified woman, who had become meek at the sight of the baton. Checking her head, the doctor announced, ‘There are no obvious cuts or bleeding, but you will have quite a headache for a while.’ As he turned to leave, the woman leapt on his back, the momentum taking them both to the floor. In an instant the attendant swung the baton, catching the woman sharply across her back. A scream sounded and the woman was lifted off the prostrate doctor and thrown back on the bed by the attendant.

  ‘We will have none of that Josie Perkins!’ Snapped the attendant.

  Dr Cooper scrambled to his feet and shot from the room. He turned as the attendant marched out after him, slamming and locking the door behind her. The attendant merely pulled her mouth up at one side then led him once more down the corridor to give his report to the superintendent in charge.

  The incident had shaken Dr Cooper badly and the superintendent poured him a cup of tea to calm his nerves as he sat down in her office.

  ‘I must apologize, Joshua,’ the superintendent said, ‘I realize you are not used to dealing with patients such as ours very often.’

  The doctor and superintendent had known each other for many years, and he had on a few occasions visited the
asylum. However, he had never been attacked by one of the residents before. His hands still shook, rattling the cup on its saucer.

  ‘Are they all like that?’ he asked, his voice still a little shaky.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘Most, but not all. When you’ve had your tea, I’ll show you around and you can see for yourself.’

  Dr Cooper nodded, not at all sure he was up to it, but agreed nevertheless.

  As he was taken on a tour of the building, he noticed each door had a gap at eye level for attendants to see into the room to check on the patients. Some doors had a larger gap at the bottom for tin plates of food to be pushed through. Screams, wails and crying echoed as he walked down the corridors and peered into each room. Some patients were seen silently rocking to and fro on their beds, ignoring the eyes that watched them through the door slits. It was more like a prison than a caring institute, but after being attacked, the doctor could understand the necessity for such security.

  The very last door stopped Dr Cooper in his tracks. The woman inside sat calmly on her bed reading a book. Her head swivelled and as her eyes met his she smiled.

  ‘Hello,’ the woman said. The doctor returned her greeting and watched her return to her reading.

  Looking at the superintendent, the doctor furrowed his eyebrows. As they walked away, the superintendent said, ‘Very sad, she doesn’t belong in here. She’s not insane, Joshua, she is still grieving the loss of her little girl.’

  ‘It’s the woman from the workhouse,’ Dr Cooper said quietly.

  ‘Yes, she’s not dangerous, in fact she helps out in the kitchen. It seems she’s quite an accomplished baker!’

  ‘If she’s not deemed dangerous or insane, why is she still in here?’

  ‘There’s nowhere else for her to go,’ The superintendent said simply.

  *

  Liza Townsend still held her book but she was no longer reading the words. Other than the attendants, superintendent and cook, she had just spoken to the only other sane person in the building – the doctor. She had recognized him from the workhouse. He had been the kind one; the one who had washed and dressed her little girl. He had explained gently what had caused the child’s death. He had laid her out ready for the final visit from her mother and had given Liza time alone with her dead daughter in order to say her goodbye in private.

  Liza sniffed as she felt again the weight of her deceased child in her arms. Her broken heart would never mend she knew, and the sadness that constantly surrounded her threatened never to allow her to laugh ever again. Being kept in this hellhole of an institution might, in the end, prove to be her saving grace. It would give her time to help her come to terms with her loss, but she knew she would forever be in mourning.

  Liza felt the warm tears running down her face but made no move to wipe them away for that would staunch them. Her intermittent bouts of crying were all part of the healing process. She needed to heal – but not forget. Her eyes moved back to the eye slit in the metal door and she nodded.

  The doctor was a good man and if she ever got out of the asylum she would give him her thanks for the kindness he had shown to her.

  Liza had learned to shut out the noises and screaming of those in the asylum. At night the patients could be heard yowling their woes into the darkness, which at first had frightened her witless. Would she become like them? Fear that she might had gripped her tightly as she had listened to the echoing screams. However, as time went on she no longer heard the shouting and swearing of the others who were incarcerated there.

  The superintendent and attendants were good to her, allowing her to have books to further her reading skills. She worked in the kitchen during the day alongside the cook as she was not considered to be a danger to anyone.

  Liza smiled, the only person on the earth she was a danger to was Ada Tulley; the woman who had sanctioned the use of bad meat in the workhouse, which had caused the death of her little girl. Liza prayed every night that she would be released from the dreadful place she found herself in, because when that day came… Ada Tulley would be the first to know.

  As Liza recalled a picture of her young daughter to mind, more silent tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, my little wench. I promise you this, though, I will avenge you. If it’s the last thing I do, I will avenge you!’

  *

  The following day Joshua Cooper sat in his doctor’s office and contemplated his visit to the asylum. It truly was an awful place, but unlike the workhouse, it was needed, for there was nowhere else for the mentally ill to go. They certainly were in no position to care for themselves, and their families very often couldn’t control them.

  His thoughts turned to Liza Townsend and her plight. The superintendent was correct in what she’d said: Liza didn’t belong in there. The question was how to get her released? This question led to others; if she were to be released, where would she go? What would she do? How would she take care of herself? Could she find work and somewhere to live? She could end up being one more homeless person on the streets of Bilston, and now there was no workhouse to take her in. Weighing the options, Dr Cooper reached a decision. He would go to visit Cara Flowers to ask for her advice and help.

  *

  ‘As much as it pains me to say this, Dr Cooper, I am unable to help at the moment.’ Cara eyed the man sat opposite her in the parlour. ‘You see,’ she went on, ‘there will be accommodation for Liza Townsend eventually, but I have a responsibility to house those in lodgings with other workers first.’ Dr Cooper nodded his understanding. Cara picked up, ‘With the number of houses Bill Rowley has allowed for on the old workhouse site, there will be more than enough tenancies available… but they have to be built first and it’s a slow process.’

  ‘I understand that, Cara, I really do, but the thought of that poor woman stuck in the asylum when she should never have been put there in the first place makes my blood boil!’ Joshua Cooper’s temper flared.

  ‘I understand. Look…’ Cara said soothingly, ‘I will ask if any of the tenants have room for another lodger, but I warn you, it’s very unlikely. Besides, knowing where Liza Townsend has come from, namely the asylum, won’t help our cause.’

  The doctor knew Cara was right. Who would want a patient from the lunatic asylum living in their house, even if she wasn’t deemed insane?

  Cara spoke again. ‘Are you able to visit Mrs Townsend again?’ At his nod, she said, ‘Then please explain to her we are doing all we can to get her released.’ The doctor brightened at this and smiled. ‘We will help her, Dr Cooper although it may take a little while.’

  The doctor left in a far better mood than when he’d arrived.

  Cara sighed. How was it that as soon as she solved one problem, another would arise? Would the time ever come when she had no more difficulties to deal with? She very much doubted it.

  She thought about Liza Townsend and what Dr Cooper had told her. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child. Turning her thoughts to Charlie and Daisy, she instantly realized how it would feel if she lost either of them. The heartbreak would destroy her. Determination filled her as she tried desperately to think of ways to help Mrs Townsend be freed from the asylum.

  Thirty-One

  Cara had made the same request to each of her tenants on her visits and they had all given the same answer. They were very grateful for what she was doing for them, but no one wanted to take in ‘Mad Liza. Even after being told Mrs Townsend was not insane, they refused. Some of the women had taken care of her whilst in the workhouse, but they said they weren’t sure the woman could be trusted and didn’t want her around their children. Cara understood their concern and thanked them for their honesty.

  ‘What you gonna do then?’ Molly asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Cara replied, ‘but I have to find a way of helping Mrs Townsend.’

  Gracie passed over a cup of tea, saying, ‘You just be careful with this… you never kn
ow.’

  ‘I will,’ Cara said, ‘I think my next step is to visit Mrs Townsend with Dr Cooper.’

  ‘You must be mad wanting to go to that place!’ Molly spluttered. Gracie gave a scowl at the maid’s choice of words. Realizing her faux pas, Molly apologized.

  Cara replied, ‘I know you’re worried, but it will be fine. Dr Cooper is going to see Mrs Townsend tomorrow, so I will arrange to go with him. I will be quite safe.’

  Over the telephone Joshua Cooper vehemently advised Cara to stay home rather than visit the asylum with him. He emphasized how horrified she would be at the sight and sounds of the place and that, much as she would want to, there was nothing she could do for those living within its walls and bars.

  ‘But Joshua…’ She began.

  ‘No, Cara!’ Dr Cooper replied. ‘It will break your heart to see those poor patients. All that can be done for them is being done. This is medical, Cara, far outside your remit. Please understand I say this for your own good.’

  Cara acquiesced albeit not happily.

  On his second visit to the asylum in as many days, Dr Cooper carried with him a pile of books, and on entering Mrs Townsend’s room with the superintendent he saw the woman’s eyes light up. Handing the books over, he watched as Liza stroked each one lovingly.

  ‘Shakespeare… wonderful. Oh and a Penny-dreadful,’ Liza smiled. ‘Thank you, I will enjoy reading these. It was most thoughtful of you. Please, won’t you take a seat?’

  Joshua parked himself on the end of the bed; the superintendent remained in the doorway.

  ‘Mrs Townsend,’ the doctor said quietly, ‘the superintendent and I both agree you should not be in this place, and I want you to know I’m doing my utmost to get you released.’

  Liza answered in the same quiet tone. ‘Thank you again, Dr Cooper.’ Seeing his surprise, she went on, ‘I remember your kindness at the workhouse regarding my daughter and I extend my gratitude for that also.’