The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  The doctor had told her of his friend, the one who had demolished the ‘Spike’ – that was it. Cara Flowers had been the ‘friend’ he had spoken of. Had he mentioned her by name? Liza didn’t think so, he had just called her his friend. So how was it Liza knew the name of the young woman she’d never met? Perhaps she’d read it in the papers when news was reported of the workhouse closure. That must be it. She had scanned piles of newsprint in her efforts to locate the Tulleys so she must have come across it then. Liza settled with the notion, but not completely. Something still niggled in her brain, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Maybe Bertha could shed some light on the conundrum.

  *

  Bertha Jenkins had answered Liza’s questions about the closure of the workhouse and the girl who had brought it about. She told about her finding her brother and sister and how she looked after them at the behest of her grandmother. She explained how Cara had set out to aid the poor of the town and succeeded with every challenge she took on. She ended with news that the Flowers girl was soon to marry Martin Lander.

  ‘Why are you so interested?’ Bertha asked.

  Liza answered, ‘The names seem familiar to me, but I don’t know how or why.’

  Bertha frowned and then asked, ‘You don’t seem to know much about the folk around here, and I was wondering why that is?’

  Liza sighed heavily then began to relate the last thing she could remember.

  ‘I woke up on the heath with my young daughter by my side. Phoebe was only five years old and she was crying her little heart out. She grabbed my hand and led me back to our small cottage, but we’d found it occupied by another family. So with Phoebe at my side I had to beg in the streets, it was the only way I could get money to feed us.’ Liza’s tears formed along her lashes. ‘Eventually I was forced to enter the workhouse; I was destitute. I couldn’t feed my little girl, Bertha! I felt a failure. The poor little thing was starving. She cried all the time with bellyache and it tore me apart to watch it. I had to do something!’ Liza’s tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks and then she sobbed. ‘We had been in there for a year when I learned of the death of my little girl. It broke my heart, Bertha. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.’

  Bertha felt sick at the reminder and shuddered, but Liza appeared not to notice. Instead she said, ‘Ada Tulley paid for her mistake though, I made sure of it.’

  Bertha’s gasp was audible. ‘You mean… you…?’ Bertha spluttered. Liza merely nodded. ‘Christ!’ Bertha stammered. Realization dawned that she was now living with a murderer. Tentatively she asked, ‘Have you…? I mean, you ain’t…?’

  ‘No. I’ve never done it before, and I’ll never do it again.’ Liza’s sad eyes watched Bertha relax a little.

  Bolstering herself, Bertha then asked, ‘So how come you were on the heath in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know, Bertha. Every now and then something comes to mind. For instance, I know I always wanted to be a school teacher, but I don’t know if that dream ever came to fruition. I recall waking up on the heath that day and I had a gash on my head. I’ve no idea how I came by it though. Phoebe told me we were on our way to see her daddy but… I have no memory of who or where he was. Phoebe was scared witless. Whatever had occurred had my little girl terrified and she would say no more. No amount of questioning or coaxing would make Phoebe tell me what had happened to frighten her so badly.’

  ‘Poor little bugger!’ Bertha said with a tear in her eye.

  Liza went on, ‘Phoebe told me my name, but I have no recollection of a life before that day on the heath.’

  ‘Christ wench! You ain’t half been through the mill an’ no mistake!’ Bertha sympathized as she poured more tea for them both.

  ‘The memories I do have are muddled, disjointed you might say.’ Liza resumed as Bertha sat once more. ‘There must be more to it, but I just can’t remember. That’s the worst of it, Bertha, the not knowing. It’s almost as if I didn’t exist before that fateful day. The questions I ask myself are never answered. Who am I? Liza Townsend, I know that now. Why was I on the heath with Phoebe? I don’t know. Do, or did, I have any other children? If so, where are they? Where were we going? Who was my husband? Where is he? Why do I feel I know the name Cara Flowers? I have no answers Bertha, I have no information about my life and it drives me mad at times!’ They shared a grim smile at her choice of words.

  ‘I can imagine,’ Bertha said quietly, ‘you must have had a right old bang to the head out there on the heath if it caused you to lose your memory.’

  ‘Indeed, but how? What happened to cause such an injury?’

  Bertha shook her head and they sipped their tea in silence.

  *

  When Molly and Sam had moved into her grandmother’s bedroom after their wedding, Cara had had the ottomans moved into her own room. Other than retrieving Henrietta’s diaries, she had done nothing more with the large chests. Cara decided now was a good time to empty the chests of her grandmother’s things.

  Lifting the lid of one of the huge ottomans, Cara began to remove its contents. Retrieving a thick book, she opened it. Inside were photographs, pictures of her grandmother and grandfather, of herself as a baby and her later years. Cara smiled at the pictures and traced a finger over the figure of her grandmother. The hurt of her loss still burned deep within her.

  Another book revealed photographs of someone she didn’t recognize – was it her mother? There was a picture of the woman in a wedding outfit standing next to a tall dark-haired man. Her father? Cara stared but she had no memory of the people in the picture.

  Placing the books aside, she continued with her task. A large bundle wrapped in paper revealed a wedding dress, the same one as in the picture of the woman she didn’t know. Laying the dress on her bed, she went back to the chest. She pulled out boxes of costume jewellery, a squashed hat, and a box of papers pertaining to the house.

  Going to the other chest, she began the same procedure. Another wedding dress, presumably her grandmother’s, was laid on the bed also. Books, papers and more jewellery were unearthed. Lifting out a box at the bottom, Cara peeped inside. Letters. She set them aside to read later.

  Running down the stairs to the kitchen, Cara asked Gracie, ‘Would you and Molly help me to clear out Grandma’s belongings? All I want to keep are the papers and photographs. You can have the jewellery if you want it and I think the wedding gowns should be disposed of. Someone will be grateful for them I am sure.’

  Brushing out her hair and plaiting it for the night, Cara’s eyes fell on the letters she had removed from the ottoman earlier. Unfolding the first one, she began to read by the light of the oil lamp on the dresser. Little did she know that these letters would turn her world upside down, and lay a burden on her shoulders she never thought she would be able to carry.

  *

  Spring came in like a lion and howling winds threatened to take the legs from beneath people walking in the streets. Chimney pots were wrenched loose and sent crashing to the ground below. Trees bent, breaking in the ferocity of the gales that swept the country. Eventually the winds dropped and an eerie silence fell over the battered town as the clean-up began. Debris was scattered everywhere and people swept their houses clear of dust, as well as clearing the streets of detritus carried on the wind.

  Over their evening meal, Cara explained, ‘I have ordered my wedding dress and I wondered if you, Charlie, would give me away at the ceremony?’

  Charlie said he would be honoured then Daisy piped up, ‘What about me, our Cara?’

  ‘Well, I wondered if you would consider being my bridesmaid.’

  ‘Ooooh yes!’ Daisy beamed. ‘Can I… can I have a new frock?’

  Cara assured her she could, with hat and shoes to match. Daisy was ecstatic already discussing colours and designs. Everyone laughed at her enthusiasm… everyone but Cara. A weight settled on her chest, threatening to suffocate her. This should be the happiest time of her life, planning her wedding, but
she could not shake the feeling of foreboding that still gripped her. Watching Daisy laugh, Cara thought, At least someone is happy about this wedding.

  *

  Arriving at the wedding shop, Cara was shown into the fitting room, which was also the shopowner’s living room. There she slipped on her wedding dress. The high-neck bodice of lace ended just above her bosom where a chiffon ruffle trailed over her shoulders. Below the ruffle lay silk, embroidered with flowers of the same shade of cream. Just below the nipped-in waist which appeared to be a jacket, was where the flowers finished. Below the ‘jacket’ hem the rest of the silk dress fell to the floor with a large chiffon ruffle around its hem. Long chiffon sleeves puffed out slightly and were held at the wrists with silk-covered buttons set on a deep cuff. Cara had decided against a train, and instead of a veil, she donned a cartwheel hat made completely of cream feathers. A silk embroidered parasol with matching ruffle round the edge completed her look.

  Gazing into the long mirror, Cara checked her image; the dress fitted perfectly. Turning this way and that, she noted how well the dress hung at the back with no bustle. Although it was to be her wedding dress it was made in such a way as could be worn after the ceremony.

  Cara was pleased with her purchase and the woman gushed her thanks as she boxed the dress, wrapped the parasol and found a large box for the hat. Paying the woman for her services, Cara climbed into the cab and piled the boxes on the seat next to her.

  Once home she hung the dress in the wardrobe covered by a linen bag and the hat box and parasol were pushed on top of said piece of furniture. Daisy had said she wanted a dress of pale blue, like the sky, with shoes to match. Her sketch had been given to the dressmaker who said it would ready in plenty of time.

  The following week when it was collected, the young girl was beside herself. Pale blue gauze with a ruffled round neck, it fell to her shoes ending with a matching chiffon ruffled hem. A wide blue ribbon tied at the waist plus some ribbons for her hair and a small parasol finished the outfit. Her dress complimented Cara’s beautifully. St. Leonard’s Church had been booked by Martin for August and everything was organized. All Cara had to do now was wait.

  Forty

  In the dining room at The Laburnums, Martin listened to the conversation and he reflected on his own life.

  Joseph Purcell had up and moved from Bilston, unable to stand being shunned by the town’s society any longer, and he, Martin, had been lucky enough to fill the vacant position as Magistrate. He had also maintained his office in Earle Street; having let it to two solicitors looking for business premises to share.

  Martin, also, had been measured for his wedding garb and was eagerly awaiting the day he would marry Cara Flowers. The summer had seemed an eternity away as the winter months had dragged on, but now with the springtime bloom not far away he felt more at ease. He was kept up to date with the renovations at the new building and he surmised the workmen would be in their units and trading by Easter.

  Martin watched his bride-to-be as voices buzzed around the dinner table. Something was wrong. Cara had suddenly withdrawn into herself, her moods becoming sombre.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ he asked.

  Cara turned her glance to him, saying, ‘Yes Martin, I think this cold weather is getting me down.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ he said.

  Cara nodded and turned her face away from him.

  She had brushed his concern aside but he thought there was something more on her mind than the weather. Could it be she had changed her mind about marrying him and was afraid to say? No, Cara was afraid of nothing. He determined to say nothing more; she would explain when she felt the time was right, he was sure. He dismissed these thoughts as he was drawn into the conversation.

  Gracie Cox had seen the change in Cara too and had wondered what had happened to bring about this sudden alteration. Was it the forthcoming marriage that was eating away at the girl? It was possible, for Gracie knew Cara wanted to accomplish more to help the poor folk of Bilston before settling down to housewifely duties. It was after Martin had left and everyone else was in bed that Gracie broached the subject.

  With just the two of them now sat in the kitchen, Gracie said, ‘You want to tell me about it?’

  Cara’s blue eyes flashed to her friend before once more returning to her teacup. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Right, and I’m the Queen Mother! Come on wench, something is on your mind, we’ve all noticed it.’ Gracie watched the girl sitting opposite her.

  Suddenly the flood gates opened and tears streamed down Cara’s face.

  ‘Bloody hell girl! Whatever is the matter?’ Gracie rushed round the table and threw her arms around a sobbing Cara.

  At last Cara gained control of her emotions and began to speak.

  Deciding to go for a walk, Cara had ambled down Proud’s Lane and as she neared St. Leonard’s Church she stopped abruptly. Was that Martin walking briskly through the churchyard? Why was he here and not at his work? Maybe he was organizing their wedding service with the vicar. Surely that was something they should do together? But then that would be typical of Martin… taking control.

  Stepping through the lychgate, Cara had followed the small paved path dividing the church from the gravestones. She called out but Martin didn’t hear her. Coming to the corner wall of the imposing building, she stopped. She could hear Martin’s voice then laughter. Peeping around the corner, Cara couldn’t believe her eyes. It was indeed Martin Lander, her fiancé, and he was passionately kissing someone else!

  Cara had watched as Martin embraced the dark-haired young woman. Then she had pulled back quickly behind the wall as the two scanned the area, assuring themselves they were alone.

  After a moment, she had peered round the corner once more. Swallowing her shock, she saw them move off to the trees that shielded the gravestones from the street. Skirting around the church, she approached from the other side, her footfalls muffled by the grass.

  Following the sound of the girl’s giggles, Cara had moved stealthily to a point where she hid behind a large oak. Listening to Martin’s coaxing, her anger had mounted. Should she step forward and confront them? She knew what was about to occur. She had tasted bile in her mouth and her stomach rolled. How could he do this to her? Especially after he had accused her of doing the same thing! Breathing heavily, she stood stock-still and watched.

  She saw Martin lower the girl to the ground. With a hand covering her mouth, Cara had watched with mounting disgust as her fiancé made frantic love to another woman. She heard their groans as their passion increased, until at last their lust was sated and they lay together laughing.

  Dressing quickly, the pair had walked back the way they had come, totally unaware that they had been observed throughout their liaison.

  Cara had leant her back to the tree’s trunk and gazed up into the sky. Anger rose swiftly and she began to shake from head to foot. Her fiancé was having an affair with another woman! Judging by what she had just witnessed, this was definitely not the first occasion they had made love! Cara had dredged her mind, focusing on the times she and Martin had not been together. Had he been with this other woman during those times?

  ‘You bastard!’ she had muttered. Never in her life had she sworn, apart from the occasional ‘damn’, but there was a first time for everything and she had felt it totally appropriate right then.

  Cara had stood by the tree a long time trying to quell the anger in her. She felt utterly betrayed by the man who had asked for her hand in marriage.

  Finally retracing her steps still feeling full of rage, Cara debated how to confront Martin Lander about his tryst with the dark-haired young beauty.

  When she had finished, Gracie gasped, ‘Christ A’mighty!’

  *

  Everyone ate a huge lunch before retiring to the parlour. Molly called for quiet.

  ‘I have a toast to make,’ she said as all raised their glasses, ‘to Cara and her accomplishments.’ The
toast was made and Molly spoke again as she turned to her husband Sam. ‘Sam, you are going to be a daddy!’

  ‘Thank God for that!’ he gasped. ‘I thought you were just getting fat!’

  ‘The baby is due in late summer so you may have to rearrange your wedding date Cara, so I can attend.’ Molly laughed.

  Cara smiled indulgently.

  Applause sounded and hugs given.

  Sam cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. ‘We’d best be finding a home of our own, Mrs Yale. I can’t rightly turn the tenants out of my cottage, so we’ll have to find somewhere else.’

  Molly grinned, ‘Blimey, you’re right! Maybe Mr Harris at the Estate Agents can help?’ They agreed to start looking for a house not too far away.

  Cara watched the joy in Molly’s eyes and thought she would order a new spring built perambulator for Molly’s baby. This could not be delivered until her say-so. Carriage before baby was deemed back luck.

  As talk centred on Molly and the baby, Cara’s thoughts led her to how she might feel about having a family with Martin Lander. As her eyes rested on him laughing with Sam, her stomach rolled. No, most definitely not. She could not envisage herself being a wife to this man, never mind having his babies! Watching him now, the seed of a plan began to take shape in her mind. Could she do it? Could she be that cruel? Time would tell.

  *

  Nothing more had been said about the discussion between Cara and Gracie on that night Cara bawled her eyes out, other than the girl needed to decide what to do in her own time and in her own way. Cara now felt she had made that decision.