The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘Get away from me!’ Cara rasped into his face.

  ‘No, my dear, not yet. First I will have my fill of you, then you can go back to your fiancé!’

  ‘Noooo!’ Cara yelled as her struggles began once more.

  Purcell slapped her hard, catching her cheek with his ring and the scratch instantly began to bleed. Ignoring it, Cara’s adrenaline fuelled her efforts to push him off her, but he was too heavy. He laughed as he tore at her blouse and grabbed her breast roughly, kneading it as he kissed her forcefully. Lifting his body slightly to feast his eyes on her, he winced as Cara’s piercing scream almost burst his eardrum.

  Joseph gave her yet another slap, but Cara continued to scream for all she was worth.

  ‘Get off me! Leave me alone!’

  Suddenly Purcell was flying through the air and landed with a thud on the thick carpet.

  The cabbie was standing over him, legs astride, with a look of pure fury etching his features. ‘Get up, you dirty swine! Get up, so I can knock you down again!’

  Joseph scrambled away from the burly man, muttering, ‘She wanted it! She instigated it!’

  Taking a step forward, the cabbie yelled, ‘You’re a liar, Purcell! I came running at the first scream and had you not been so intent on abusing Miss Flowers, you would have heard me!’

  Turning, he held out his hand to Cara whose shaking hands were clutching her torn blouse. Leading her out of the door and settling her in the cab, he climbed into the driving seat and led the horse down the driveway.

  The cabbie now sat in the kitchen of The Laburnums telling Gracie and Molly what he’d seen and heard. Cara had changed her clothes and given the torn blouse to Gracie to be burnt. She didn’t want to be reminded of the incident by seeing the garment again.

  ‘Shouldn’t you telephone Martin, and let him know what’s happened?’ Gracie asked tentatively.

  ‘No,’ Cara said firmly. Her tone indicated she would brook no argument. ‘I just want to forget all about it. I’m just grateful this kind man intervened on my behalf.’ Cara pointed to the cabbie.

  After chatting for a while and a hot cup of tea, Gracie saw the cabbie out, giving him her thanks also for his speedy intervention in saving Cara.

  It was a while later when Martin came calling, and he was led into the kitchen by Molly. Discussions were still taking place about the incident, but Cara had begun to feel a little better. Her shaking hands had stilled and she sipped her hot tea as she listened to the conversation.

  When Martin entered the room, her heart sank a little. Now he would find out what had happened. How would he react? she wondered. She didn’t have to wait too long to find out.

  She explained the whole thing and Martin was furious! He stamped around the kitchen, his hands dragging his hair back.

  ‘He overstepped the mark, Cara! He assaulted you!’ Martin said when Cara refused to pursue the matter. ‘You have a witness… the cabbie! Purcell needs to be brought to justice!’

  ‘No, Martin! I just want to put it behind me.’ Cara’s temper began to rise.

  Martin slumped into a chair and sighed his frustration at her words.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, Martin, things like this have a way of sorting themselves out.’ Gracie winked surreptitiously at him, who smiled his understanding in return.

  The unspoken pact between them would ensure the truth of Purcell’s disgraceful behaviour towards Cara would spread across the town like wildfire via the cabbie.

  Thirty-Seven

  Word of Joseph Purcell’s assault of Cara Flowers had reached every pair of ears in the town within a week. It was ironic that this gossip had more purchase than his own manufactured story about Cara’s affair ever did. The man who had tried to shame the young woman now found himself shamed once more. He was shunned by all. The humiliated magistrate returned home from his office to an empty house, the cook and maid having left a note on his desk in the study saying they had quit his employ. The man once held in such high esteem was now holed up at Brueton House without a friend in the world. He smouldered with hatred at Cara Flowers, the woman he once thought to marry.

  Cara was dismayed that everyone knew what had happened but had guessed in her heart that the incident would never have remained a secret. Cara was satisfied. Her dark red jacket nipped into her tiny waist flaring out slightly at the hips. The reveres were open to the waist, revealing a pink lace blouse with a high neck. The skirt fell from the waist into an inverted vee to below the knee from which a deep frill hung. The jacket piping was black and the lower half held black embroidery. Red shoes peeped from beneath the skirt frill and a large pink hat sported pink and red feathers. A parasol completed the ensemble.

  Waiting with the others in the living room, all dressed in their finery, the door finally opened and in walked Molly. Gasps sounded as she entered in her wedding gown. A white silk dress lay over a corset which pulled in her waist to an impossibly small size. From the high neck to the waist were layers of white chiffon ruffles which also edged the hem and short train. The back of the skirt was split almost to the waist and was inset with fine white lace over a silk lining. A lace veil to match trailed down over her shoulders, held in place by a circlet of white roses. Long silk sleeves ended in a small chiffon ruffle. She carried a simple prayer book. The applause answered Molly’s unasked question. She looked beautiful.

  Molly and Cara led the small entourage down Proud’s Lane into Fletcher Street. It was still customary for the bride to walk to the church in the summer months accepting the good wishes of people who stood to watch her pass. Women came to their gates to wish Molly well as the group proceeded into Walsall Street and eventually reached St. Leonard’s Church.

  Sam Yale in his smart trousers, shirt, cravat, waistcoat and tail coat was waiting at the altar.

  Having no family of her own, Molly had asked Cara to escort her down the aisle. As the wedding ceremony began, Martin held tight to Cara’s hand and she read his look of longing. He wanted to be the next to marry his sweetheart.

  *

  Cara watched Molly and Sam board the last train to Birmingham that evening. Their first night as a married couple was to be spent in a fancy big hotel before they took another train the following day. They were to have a week’s honeymoon at the seaside, courtesy of Cara. They had all enjoyed a meal at The Laburnums after the wedding and now they were waving to the young couple setting out on the rocky path of marriage.

  Cara smiled as Molly hung out of the pulled down window of the door of the train. The girl was looking deliriously happy as Sam’s laughing face joined hers.

  ‘See you all in a week!’ Molly yelled.

  Cara nodded.

  Martin slipped his arm around her waist and she stiffened. ‘That will be us soon,’ he laughed.

  Cara smiled as she took a step closer to the train to blow a kiss to the happy couple.

  The train whistle blew and the engine puffed out clouds of steam before chugging its way along the tracks. Everyone waved until the train was out of sight before turning to make their way home.

  The moon lit the way as the group walked along the deserted streets talking quietly about the lovely wedding and how happy the couple looked.

  Houses and shops which showed a layer of grime in the daytime all stood in darkness now, and the black silhouettes looked almost majestic against the moonlit sky. Other than the odd sound of a working factory and their quiet chatter, the town held an eerie silence. Horses were stabled and carts stored away, but Cara knew it would only be a matter of a few hours before the streets came to life once more.

  Martin parted company with the others and headed home to Alice Street. Cara walked home with Gracie, Charlie and Daisy with a heaviness hanging over her.

  The children went happily to bed and Gracie and Cara sat in the kitchen with tea.

  ‘What’s up, wench?’ Gracie asked.

  Releasing a long sigh, Cara replied. ‘I know Martin wants us to be married soon, but…’

  �
��You ain’t ready yet,’ Gracie finished the girl’s sentence.

  Shaking her head, Cara said, ‘There are so many things I want to do first, Gracie!’

  ‘I know, but you can’t do everything, and Martin won’t wait forever.’ The cook smiled to lessen the impact of her words.

  Cara nodded. ‘I can’t even think about marriage until I’ve found my mother and… the “Bread Line” grows ever longer. I have to find those men some work!’

  ‘I understand how you feel, but you have to slow down or else you’ll kill yourself!’

  Cara retired to bed with her friend’s words ringing in her ears.

  *

  Cara’s next challenge came when she received a visit from Wally Webb.

  ‘I’d thought you’d like to know that all the lodgers with your other tenants are now in their own properties.’ Wally said with a grin.

  ‘That’s marvellous!’ Cara was elated.

  ‘It is, and it won’t be too much longer before the rest of the houses on the old workhouse site are complete.’

  ‘Oh Wally! How wonderful, I’m so pleased!’ Cara’s hands clasped together as if in prayer.

  ‘The thing is…’ Wally said tentatively, ‘once they are, the men will be out of work again.’ Cara laid her hands in her lap with a huge sigh. ‘Sorry to spoil the mood,’ Wally added.

  ‘You haven’t, Wally, it’s not as though we weren’t expecting it. Leave it with me, I’ll give it some thought.’

  Nodding, he slipped from the room quietly, leaving her to do her thinking.

  Cara decided to go for a walk and strolling across Proud’s Lane and into the allotments she returned the waves of the men working their plots. These plots would not see much work over the winter months, she knew, and other work would be needed for those workers then too. Cara sighed as she passed the small shops in Fletcher Street.

  Walking on into Walsall Street, she stopped to gaze at St. Leonard’s Church where Molly had been married. A slight breeze tugged at the hem of her long white dress and her hand moved to hold onto her straw boater hat. Following along Church Street, she glanced at the buildings lining each side of the roadway. They were tall and dirty and each looked the same as the next. Walking down a side street, Cara was then in the marketplace and waves and calls greeted her warmly from the stallholders. At least these women had work even if their men didn’t. Cara’s heart weighed heavy at the thought. Strolling between the stalls she pasted a smile on her face, she didn’t want anyone seeing how down-hearted she was feeling.

  Deciding on a different route home, she left the market by way of Broad Street. Halfway along she came upon a massive building which looked to be empty. She was intrigued. Walking down the entry to the side, she realized just how big it was, and she wondered how she’d not noticed it before. Enclosed by four streets, the ‘L’ shaped structure was two storeys high. It almost filled the enclosure in which it stood and it was indeed empty. Peering through a dirty window, Cara saw nothing but space. She walked the entire perimeter, looking in each window. Her mood lightened as she returned home at a brisk pace. If she could acquire the property it could be the answer to her problems.

  Later in the day, Gracie joined Cara and Daisy on her journey to the building once more, the key, given over by the ever obliging Mr Harris, the estate agent, firmly in her hand.

  As Cara flung the door open, she gasped. The room stretched so far back she could barely see the end. All along the one wall were windows, tall and arched. The other wall held a door and, further along, more arched windows. Walking through the door on the right revealed another ‘L’ shaped room with windows. Moving back into the main area, they walked its length. Dust flew up from the stone floor as they went and a musty smell hung in the air. At the end stood another door, through which was yet another massive open space. To the left was a staircase to the upper floor which was identical to the ground floor. To the right was a corridor which led into half a dozen smaller rooms. Outside was a brick building which was partitioned off into four separate lavatories. A huge yard had a large water standpipe at its centre. At the end of the main structure which backed onto Princess Street stood two high and wide doors – the loading gates. Another half a dozen small buildings were dotted around the yard.

  ‘This property is up for sale, Gracie,’ she said, ‘but it won’t come cheap.’

  ‘No, wench, it will cost you more than a bob or two,’ Gracie nodded.

  As Cara’s eyes roamed, her mind whirled as to how it could be used in the most efficient way. Gracie smiled as they watched Daisy skip around the large room.

  Relocking the door at Broad Street, they set off to return the key and try to strike a bargain with the estate agent.

  *

  Cara had refused to pay the extortionate price asked for the enormous building in Broad Street after Mr Harris had said, ‘I can’t lower the price without first consulting with its owner.’

  ‘Of course, I understand,’ she answered. ‘May I ask the name of the owner?’

  She almost fainted when she learned the owner was none other than Joseph Purcell!

  ‘Mr Harris, I would prefer Mr Purcell not to know the identity of the party interested in his building due to… personal reasons.’ Cara erred on the side of diplomacy.

  ‘Certainly, Cara, be assured I will maintain your anonymity.’ Harris smiled. He had heard the gossip concerning Purcell’s inappropriate behaviour towards the young woman and was inclined to believe it.

  ‘Besides,’ Cara continued, ‘the property is doing the man no good standing empty. Even at a reduced selling price he would benefit from its sale.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that,’ Harris agreed. ‘Give me a moment and I’ll telephone him and see what we can do.’ Giving her a wink, he pulled the telephone towards him.

  And so, after much toing and froing and Mr Harris assuring Purcell it was the best price he would get for the building, Purcell capitulated and the title deed was eventually signed over to Cara Flowers. Joseph Purcell remained ignorant of the new owner’s identity… at least for now.

  Thirty-Eight

  ‘Now you’ve bought it, what the bloody hell you gonna do with it?’ Gracie asked.

  ‘Well…’ Cara began. ‘Well…’

  ‘You ain’t got a clue have you? I knew it!’ Gracie went about her business in the kitchen still muttering. ‘You get these mad ideas and act on them before you think it through to the end! That damn great hulking building…’

  Just then Sam and Molly walked into the room. Molly had been adamant she did not want to leave The Laburnums after her wedding and so Cara had obliged by offering the newlyweds her grandmother’s bedroom. It was the largest in the house and the couple had accepted gladly.

  Gracie continued, ‘Sam, you tell her. She’s got a massive monstrosity of a property and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it!’

  All eyes went to Sam and he smiled uncertainly. ‘Are you thinking about work for the men when “Flowers’ Fields” is finished?’

  ‘When what is finished?’ Cara asked.

  ‘Sorry, but the old workhouse site appears to have acquired a new name. It is now known as “Flowers’ Fields”, like the old cottages became “Cara’s Cottages”. You have to admit it has a nicer ring to it than the “Spike”,’ Sam explained.

  ‘Oh that’s a bloody lovely name, that is!’ Gracie wiped a tear on her apron as titters sounded.

  ‘Well, when the work is finished the men will be out of work, am I right?’ He saw Cara’s nod. ‘All those men have one trade or another, builders, carpenters, cobblers… there’s even a couple of tailors too who’ve been doing the labouring.’

  Cara saw where Sam was heading and said, ‘So some could train others in different professions… if we divided the building up into small workshops…!’

  Sam nodded and said, ‘They could rent them from you.’

  Applause sounded at the idea and chatter began around how to get started.

  *
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br />   Bill Rowley, the architect for ‘Flowers’ Fields’ was on site at the new housing development and although he didn’t need to be there, he always wanted to see his drawings come to life. He had put down on paper what now stood before him in the form of housing for the poor, and even after many years in his chosen profession, he marvelled at the finished constructions. It still excited him that what he drew on blank paper could be viewed, interpreted and constructed by competent builders. He had seen men move into the properties no sooner than they were finished. He had watched as friends and neighbours as well as Cara had contributed to fixtures and fittings. He was amazed at how the men who once had nothing, not even a hope of a better life, rallied together and erected the buildings that now stood on the old workhouse site. The name of the development had been burnt into a huge plank of wood, and the sign – ‘Flowers’ Fields’ now stood proudly at the beginning of the cart track which ran around the perimeter of the houses.

  It was the whistles and calls that drew his attention to the young woman who stepped from the cab that had come to a standstill close by. Cara waved to the men who had shouted their greetings as she walked over to Bill. All eyes watched as she handed the architect a large rolled up paper. Unrolling it, Bill looked it over and nodded, a huge grin on his face. Whatever Cara Flowers was up to now, it seemed Bill Rowley was in agreement.

  Cara waved a goodbye and climbed into the cab once more. As it rolled away, everyone was wondering what challenge she had set herself this time. Everyone except Bill Rowley. The rolled paper tucked under his arm he walked towards his horse and, climbing into the saddle, he set off for home. He had another job to do for the enchanting Miss Flowers.

  As the cab rumbled along, Cara’s thoughts drifted to Liza Townsend. She had not been to see the woman since her release from the asylum. Cara felt bad that she’d been too busy and only now had thought about it. She made a mental reminder to pay a visit to Bertha soon, and hopefully then she would be able to meet Liza.