The Workhouse Children Page 5

  ‘But what if she ain’t there anymore?’ Charlie became increasingly agitated.

  ‘It’s a start, isn’t it? Besides, we found you. What were the odds of that? Now then, I think it’s time you got some sleep. Come on and I’ll show you your bedroom.’ Cara walked from the kitchen and up the stairs. Behind her Charlie said his goodnights and thanked Gracie for his ‘lovely dinner’.

  Cara led Charlie up the stairs and opening a door leading off the landing said, ‘This will be your room, Charlie.’ Cara watched the boy look around him. ‘Molly will give it a clean for you once a week, other than that no one will enter. If you need quiet time, this is the place.’

  The young boy rushed up to her, throwing his arms around her waist. ‘Thank you Cara, thank you, thank you, thank you!’ He sobbed like his heart would break. He had tried so hard to pretend he was a grown-up, but he now gave way to being a child once more. Tears of relief flowed freely as he pushed his life in the workhouse behind him.

  Cara felt his small frame shudder as she wrapped her arms around him. ‘It’s all right, little brother, you’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.’

  As his sobs subsided she held him tightly and kissed his forehead. ‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered, ‘we’ll set out on another adventure. Tomorrow we’re going to look for Daisy.’

  Molly and Gracie had been discussing the fate of the Flowers children while Cara settled her new found brother in his bedroom.

  As she returned to the kitchen wiping away her own tears, the discussion began again.

  ‘Well we now know the children were abandoned. I wonder how they ended up in the workhouse,’ Cara said as she sat at the table once more.

  ‘Buggered if I know,’ Gracie muttered as she poured more tea.

  ‘Do you think Charlie took them there in utter desperation?’ Cara asked. ‘Or do you think they were forced in by someone else?’

  Molly asked, ‘Who? Who would force a couple of kids into that dreadful place?’

  Cara shook her head. ‘This challenge is leading us along an unknown path. However, I’m certainly learning quickly. Money opens doors and provides “confidential” information. I know there’s poverty here in Bilston, but it seems nothing compared to the lives of those poor people in the workhouse.’ Breathing in through her nose, she went on, anger lacing her words. ‘Lives is entirely the wrong word – existence! Those people are merely existing in that place, waiting for the day they will die and be free of their misery!’

  Molly and Gracie exchanged a look as Cara spat, ‘Something must be done about that place!’

  ‘If only…’ Gracie muttered.

  ‘Gracie, the Tulleys are getting fat off the backs of people who can’t defend themselves!’ Cara was getting herself in a state about the whole thing.

  ‘I know that, wench, but what can we do?’ Gracie held out her hands.

  Cara sighed through her nose, her lips set in a tight line. Then she said, ‘I don’t know… as yet.’

  The cook and the maid exchanged another look which said, ‘Look out! Cara’s got a bee in her bonnet now!’

  ‘I think maybe it’s time to have another word with Martin Lander,’ Cara said as if to herself.

  *

  Charlie woke early out of habit but was afraid to open his eyes in case it had all been a beautiful dream. The sound of the birds’ dawn chorus made him snap open his eyes and, sitting up, he gazed around. It had not been a dream, it was true. He had been rescued! He had been found and saved by an older sister he never knew he had. He sat in his bed for a moment and pondered. He liked Cara, she was gentle and caring and he was glad she was his sister. Then his mind turned to Daisy and the joy he was feeling was tempered. But then again, if Cara had found him, maybe she would find their little sister. His excitement grew again at the prospect.

  Jumping out of bed, his toe caught against something cold which emitted a resounding ring. Looking beneath the bedstead, he found a chamber pot.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he muttered. ‘I’ve even got me own guzunder!’ Laughing to himself, he dressed in the new clothes Molly had bought for him. The luxury of woollen socks meant his boots would no longer rub his feet raw.

  Dashing down to the kitchen, he fed the range with coal and set the kettle to boil. Looking in the pantry, he gasped. There was enough food here to feed the whole workhouse!

  Grabbing eggs and bacon, he scraped lard into a frying pan and dropping in the bacon he heard it sizzle.

  The aroma of cooking bacon drifted upstairs and before long Gracie was rushing into the kitchen in her dressing gown.

  Looking around, she gasped. The table was set and breakfast was almost ready. Plopping into a chair, she accepted the cup of tea offered by Charlie.

  Moments later, Molly and Cara appeared, also in their dressing gowns, and laughed when Charlie said, ‘Breakfast is up.’ Sitting at the table, they all tucked in to bacon, eggs and fried bread washed down with hot tea.

  When the women returned to the kitchen having dressed, delight showed on their faces. Not only had Charlie cooked breakfast, but he had also washed the dishes!

  *

  Charlie Flowers looked down at his new boots and grinned. Never having had new footwear before, he felt like a king. ‘These ain’t half posh, I feel like a real toff now,’ he laughed as he danced a little jig.

  Walking from the shoe shop in Princes Street, the group sauntered down Duke Street. Charlie pulled his cap tight against his head, very much aware of his ‘workhouse haircut.’ Coming to the office of Lander, Holmes & Durwood, they all trooped inside requesting to see Mr Lander. Being led directly into his office, he greeted them all warmly. Once seated, Cara introduced her brother to Martin. The boy and man shook hands before Lander asked, ‘How can I help you today, Miss Flowers?’

  ‘Charlie’s sister… our sister…’ Cara corrected herself, ‘was sold from the workhouse to this address.’ She pushed a slip of paper across the desk. Martin read the address then nodded as he looked back at Cara. ‘What we’d like to know is… can we get her back – legally?’

  Mr Lander smiled then said, ‘Is she definitely part of your family would be my first question?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara answered without hesitation.

  ‘Then yes, you can. The people who bought her may want proof, but legally they cannot refuse your request to return her to your care.’ Martin gave the slip of paper back to Cara.

  Charlie beamed. ‘Can we go and get her now, Cara? Pleeease?’

  ‘Shortly, but first I need to speak with Mr Lander in private.’ Cara looked at Gracie.

  Nodding, Gracie said, ‘Come on, little man, Molly and me know where there’s a bostin’ suck shop.’ Charlie’s face lit up at the prospect of having some sweets.

  Cara smiled at Gracie’s use of the old Black Country term as the three filed out of the room.

  ‘Mr Lander,’ Cara launched in when the door was closed, ‘Mr and Mrs Tulley who run the workhouse are making a great deal of money selling off the children. These children are kept in squalid conditions and fed slop! They are worked half to death and I fear the adults fare no better. What I want to know is… what can be done about this?’

  Martin Lander drew in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. ‘Sadly, Miss Flowers, nothing can be done about it. The Board of Guardians are the ones who oversee the workhouse, and it’s my guess they’re probably unaware of the true goings-on in that place.’

  ‘But…’ Cara began.

  Lander held up his hands, saying, ‘I’m on your side regarding this, Miss Flowers. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I don’t see any way around it.’

  ‘I want that place closed down!’ Cara snapped.

  ‘I can’t see that happening in the foreseeable future,’ Martin said with an apologetic smile. ‘You see, proof… written proof… would be needed of Tulley’s misdeeds. Or witnesses who would testify in court about cruelty or starvation suffered at the hands of that man.’

&nb
sp; ‘There are over two hundred souls in that place, Mr Lander, any one of whom would stand up in court to testify, I’m sure.’ Cara was not about to concede; her blood was up.

  ‘All right, put it this way. Supposing Tulley was thrown in jail for his offences, would the Board of Guardians appoint another to take his place? Inarguably yes. So then we’re back to square one. If, by some miracle, the place was closed down, what would happen to those two hundred souls you spoke of?’ Martin dropped his hands on the arms of his chair indicating he had finished speaking.

  This was something she hadn’t considered. She felt the anger rise in her and tears of pure frustration lined her lashes as she shook his hand. She was determined she would not cry in front of this man, but it took all her strength not to do so. Leaving his office, she thought, Damn Tulley and his workhouse!

  Seven

  Cara was still seething as they set out to look for Daisy, so Gracie suggested a calming cup of tea. Marching down the street, the others trailing in her wake, they eventually bustled into a small building squashed between two others.

  Sitting at the back of the almost empty tea shop, Cara fought to quell the emotions she was feeling, then once she felt a little calmer, she quietly directed her words to Charlie. ‘I need to know an awful lot more about that workhouse, Charlie. It needs shutting down, but I have to know how things work before I can even think about campaigning for its closure!’

  ‘I don’t know much about the workings of it, but I can tell you about what happened to me,’ the boy said as he eyed the cream cake in his hand.

  ‘That would be a good start. Maybe when we get home you could tell me what you know.’ Cara smiled as Charlie nodded, his mouth full of cake. Then looking at her friends, she said, ‘I’m on a mission, ladies, and it’s your choice whether you join me or not.’

  ‘I’m with you!’ Gracie said.

  ‘Me an’ all,’ Molly added.

  ‘Good, but first we have to get our sister back, right Charlie?’

  The boy nodded with a big smile but, truth be told, his attention was more on his cake at that precise moment. He’d never had a cream cake before and he was savouring its delicious flavour, his eyes closing to enjoy the full experience.

  *

  Passing the railway station, Cara stopped and gazed at the wealthier members of the town as they came and went. Ladies in their large feathered hats, parasols clutched in gloved hands. Gentlemen in their great coats and bowler or top hats holding onto silver-topped canes.

  Moving on into Railway Street, Cara saw a distinct change in the clothing of the people. Here the women wore long dark skirts over worn-out boots. No hats adorned these heads, only patched shawls draped over hair that looked none too clean. The men walked with a weariness that cut to the soul, their moleskin trousers ending just short of hob nailed boots. They wore collarless shirts and waistcoats, with mufflers tied about the throat; their jackets were threadbare. No top hats here, only flat caps pulled low over tired eyes.

  Walking down the street that ran parallel to the railway line, Cara studied the buildings around her and the people she passed. Even in the weak sunshine, everyone walked with lowered heads. Poverty was beating them down; ambitions once felt in their youth had left them. The only thing left to them was where their next meal would come from, old age and death.

  No one spoke as Cara, Charlie, Molly and Gracie trudged up Queen Street. The buildings were more scattered, in fact only a handful were still standing along with the Prince of Wales public house. The house they were to visit sat directly opposite the pub and Cara, the others in tow, marched up the garden path. Her anger had not completely abated and she hammered on the front door. A woman in a dirty apron answered, her hair escaping the confines of a makeshift turban.

  ‘What?’ The woman was obviously unhappy about being disturbed.

  Cara’s anger bubbled up once more at being spoken to in such a way. Manners cost nothing.

  ‘I’m looking for a child called Daisy Flowers.’

  ‘Well, her ain’t here,’ the woman said, wiping her hands on the apron.

  ‘Can you tell me where she is?’ Cara heard Charlie gasp then asked.

  ‘No.’ The woman’s hands now rested on her hips.

  ‘May I ask why not?’ Cara sighed. This was the usual way Black Country people communicated – short answers but ‘going around the houses’ to get to the point.

  ‘You can ask,’ the woman said.

  ‘Why can’t you tell me where she is?’ Cara only just held on to her temper.

  ‘Cos I don’t know where her is!’ the woman retorted.

  ‘And why would that be?’ Cara’s patience was fast running out.

  ‘Her run off a few weeks back… I ain’t seen her since.’

  Charlie, who stood by Cara’s side, gasped at the woman’s words.

  ‘Thank you!’ Cara snapped. Turning on her heel, she marched between Molly and Gracie, and grabbing Charlie’s hand walked swiftly away from the house, hearing the sound of the door slamming behind her.

  Retracing their steps, again no one spoke. They had reached a dead end. Cara’s anger at the woman receded as she considered where they could next search for Daisy. The child could be anywhere. She felt a coldness in her bones as she wondered if her sister was still alive. She could have starved to death; she could have died at the hands of another…

  Pushing away the thoughts that left her shivering, she picked up her pace. She wanted to have everyone safely home.

  *

  Martin Lander leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk in his office, contemplating the conversation he’d had with Cara Flowers. He did not know the lady well but her determination to find her siblings was evident. She had found young Charlie and was now in pursuit of a sister called Daisy. Once the child was safely in her care, Martin felt sure Cara would find a way to take on the institution known as the workhouse. How she would go about this he didn’t know, but he was certain she would give her all in an attempt to, at the very least, upset the regime.

  Martin knew little about that place other than sharing the dread of it with every person in the town. He had heard the stories of the cruelty and starvation which were told by people who had been ‘bought out’ as servants. The majority of inmates, however, were resigned to their fate of never being free from institutional life again.

  His heart sank as he considered this: how would he feel about being locked away for the rest of his life? Of having very little food? Of having to break rocks for no pay? Of spending all his time with other men and not seeing another female form? Of never being married or having children of his own? As he considered these questions he felt the anger of it all rise within him. The people in that place were prisoners, held fast by their own unfortunate circumstances. It was certainly a gross injustice.

  Moving to the little fire on the other side of his office, he stabbed it with the poker then threw on more coal. As the flames licked the nuggets, he wondered how cold the workhouse was in winter. Again his anger bubbled up. As he retook his seat, a realization struck him which made him smile. Now he knew how Cara Flowers felt! He understood what fuelled her anger and frustration, it was that no one was helping the poor ensconced in the Workhouse, and he set his mind to helping the pretty young woman in any way he could.

  *

  Back at The Laburnums, the Charlie, Gracie and Molly sat around the kitchen table, as Cara’s frustration mounted. She paced back and forth, her hands clenching and unclenching. She drew breath in through her nose and puffed it out of her mouth. ‘Why couldn’t the woman answer my question in the first place?’

  ‘Cos that aint the Black Country way, wench,’ Gracie said.

  ‘Now we have no idea where Daisy might be.’

  ‘She could be anywhere,’ Charlie agreed sadly.

  ‘Well at least we know she’s not in the dreadful workhouse or with that termagant of a woman!’ Cara said.

  Cara felt Charlie’s eyes on her and a
s she looked back her heart went out to him. He was relying on her to find Daisy. The onus was squarely on her shoulders to discover the whereabouts of the child.

  ‘Charlie,’ she said gently, ‘I know it must be painful for you, but I have to know everything you can tell me, so I might know where to look for Daisy.’

  The boy’s head dropped as he relived old memories. Then, taking a deep breath, he began. ‘We lived in a little cottage out on the heath by the railway. It was a dump, but it was our dump!’ His chest puffed out slightly, showing he was immensely proud of their ‘dump’. ‘I aint sure who it belonged to, but mum never had the rent money, cos that…. Cos dad had drunk it all up the wall! So when the rent man came calling, we had to hide. Mum turned it into a game for us so Daisy wouldn’t get scared.’ He tried to give a little smile at the memory, but it only lifted the corners of his mouth.

  Cara gave him a small smile of encouragement.

  ‘When Daisy and me came back and found them gone, mum and dad I mean, we d’aint know what to do at first. Daisy cried and cried, and I tell you I felt like it an’ all, but I knew I had to be strong for her. So we went scavenging, and I turned it into a game like our mum would have done.’ A sob escaped his lips and the tears showed themselves once more. ‘Then we waited, hoping they’d come home, but they didn’t. Well, one day we didn’t hide fast enough when the rent man came. When he found out our parents had done a flit, he reported us and we was chucked in the workhouse.’ His eyes moved to Gracie on her sharp intake of breath. ‘When we was took in there, our Daisy was put in with the other girls and she screamed the place down. I couldn’t get to her, they held me back and she was crying and screaming out my name as the women dragged her away.’ Charlie began to cry out loud, unable to hold back any longer. ‘I ain’t never felt so bad in all my life!’ He said at last, ‘Then I was dragged away as well and told I’d be in with the boys. The matron had my hair shaved off and then I was scrubbed down with carbolic soap. My own clothes were taken away, and I was given them rotten old clothes you burnt, Mrs Cox. My own clothes d’aint fit any more anyway.’ Charlie wiped his nose on a handkerchief handed to him by Gracie, but his sobs continued.