The Workhouse Children

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Striding towards his wife, sat on a chair in the shade, he nodded towards the shuffling female children, raising his eyebrows in question.

  ‘They’ve got the bellyache,’ Ada Tulley said in answer as she mopped her brow with a handkerchief.

  ‘What, all of them?’ Tulley boomed.

  ‘Ar, seems that bit of meat in the broth weren’t exactly fresh.’ Ada shook her head.

  ‘Does the doctor need to be called?’ Tulley asked immediately, thinking of the expense.

  Ada Tulley shook her head again, her mob cap wobbling precariously. ‘I don’t think it’s necessary. It will work its way through on its own.’

  Tulley nodded once, screwing up his nose at the thought. ‘The Board have informed me that five more families will be coming in this week. See to the arrangements, will you?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Ada grinned, showing teeth beginning to blacken with decay.

  Tulley grimaced as he walked away.

  *

  The five families all entered the workhouse on the same day and were immediately separated out. The screaming children were dragged away from their sobbing mothers. The fathers, with hearts silently breaking, were led away to the men’s quarters. All were bathed, had their hair shorn and given the ‘uniform’ to wear. Their own clothes they were told would be put into storage and returned on their release.

  The boys were shown to the dormitories where they would share a straw-filled mattress on a wooden frame with another child. Then they were taken to the oakum shed to learn to unpick old rope.

  The women shared a similar fate in their quarters, albeit having their own bed. Some were taken to the kitchen to work, others to the laundry. Here they would scrub the clothes for the whole workhouse in boiling water, by hand. After rinsing in cold water, the garments would be put through the mangle and hung out to dry. Only the Master and Matron’s clothes would be ironed.

  The men also had a bed of their own or a straw pallet on the floor. At the back of the workhouse itself were huge piles of stone to be smashed into rubble. Further along, other men were crushing bones for use in fertilizer. Some men walked endlessly round the treadmill working two giant stones which ground the corn.

  These families, like so many of the others of the town who had lost hope, were now firmly in the clutches of workhouse life. They thought only a miracle would set them free now.

  *

  ‘Christ, girl, where you been? I was that worried!’ Gracie said as Cara stepped into the kitchen. Daisy had been helping the cook to bake and Charlie had been reading in the parlour with Molly’s aid. All now sat round the kitchen table listening as Cara spoke.

  ‘The women on the market said only the men get to elect the Board of Guardians.’ Cara paused as snorts of disgust sounded. ‘So that means I have to attack this problem from another angle. Between Wellington Street and Green Lanes are nine old empty cottages and I wondered who owned them? So I went to the estate agent in Cambridge Street. Mr Harris, the man in charge, said they had once belonged to the owner of the Millfields Colliery. The colliery is no longer in use and the owner upped and left to work in Wolverhampton. The paperwork for the cottages was left with Mr Harris and they now belong to me!’

  ‘You’ve bought nine cottages? Whatever for?’ Gracie was aghast.

  ‘They were virtually given to me, Gracie! Mr Harris had leave to sell them straight away and I got them for a song.’ Cara was bubbling with excitement. “I could hardly believe it when I went in there earlier… then I came out with nine cottages!”

  ‘What are you going to do with nine cottages, Cara?’ Charlie asked innocently.

  ‘I’m going to find a way to get nine families out of the workhouse, although I’m not sure yet how to do it. Of course I’ll have to persuade them to work on the buildings to make them habitable whilst they live in them, perhaps pay them a small wage, but in the end they will have a home outside of that dreadful workhouse.’ Cara said.

  ‘Then what?’ Molly asked.

  ‘Then I’ll look round for more and do the same again!’

  ‘What about the families? Once the work is finished, what will those families do… go back to the workhouse?’ Gracie said sharply.

  ‘Nooo!’ Cara said. ‘I’ll find them work of some sort. I want them to stay on living in those cottages. I don’t want them to have to return to that awful place! I want to give them a chance at life once more!’

  Gracie stood with her hands on her hips, feeling her patience slip away, and said, ‘Cara, whilst I like your ideas, I don’t think you’ve thought this through properly.’ Holding up her hands, she went on, ‘Now, you have the properties, you can get the families out to work on them. They have to be fed in the meantime and there will be tools and such to buy. Then… when the cottages are finished, how will the people living in them get by? And… are you expecting rent?’ Gracie sat down and laid her hands flat on the table waiting for answers.

  ‘I… I… Oh Gracie! I don’t know! I just thought it was a good idea to get people out of that dreadful place!’ Cara mewled, she felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her sails. It seemed every which way she turned, she was blocked. All she wanted to do was help. She began to pace the floor in sheer exasperation.

  Daisy who had sat quietly during the conversation looking from one face to another suddenly piped up, ‘Our mum used to take in washing while our dad was away working, you could do that, Cara.’ Twinkling blue eyes again scanned the faces as they all laughed out across the table. Gracie could not imagine Cara washing other people’s clothes. The young woman had never had to do mundane chores and wouldn’t know where to start.

  ‘Good thought, Daisy,’ Cara praised. ‘Washing, baking… the women could do that. As for the men, they could work on any other properties we acquire!’

  ‘You’ll have to pay them,’ Charlie said ruefully.

  ‘I can do that,’ Cara added, ‘then we can see how things go. Just think… eventually we could empty the workhouse… we could put it out of business!’ Cara’s excitement bubbled over at the prospect.

  Molly laid her arms on the table, dropping her head on them with a loud sigh at the thought of what Cara would come up with next.

  Laughter filled the kitchen once more as Daisy copied her.

  *

  Cara and her small entourage walked down Proud’s Lane into Dover Street. Each on the lookout for any empty property that might be of use. Turning into Wellington Street, they ambled along, passing familiar houses that had stood for many years but were only now really seeing properly for the first time. Following the dirt track Cara had taken the day before, they came to the nine cottages.

  ‘Bloody hellfire!’ Gracie exclaimed, making Daisy giggle. ‘They’re going to take a hell of a lot of work, girl!’

  ‘I know, Gracie, but just think, this might help to get me on the Board of Guardians yet!’

  The little group roamed around and inspected each property in turn, and Cara, taking out a pencil and paper from her bag, made a note of the things they needed to make them habitable.

  That done, they walked home past the allotment gardens chatting about the work needing to be done. They parted company and as Cara made her way to Cambridge Street, the others trundled home. Cara had a favour to ask of Martin Lander.

  At The Laburnums Gracie set out the tea things on the table and muttered, ‘I ain’t sure what Cara’s up to, but one thing I do know, Molly, is… you and me are going to be very busy, very soon!’

  Eleven

  The sick children in the ‘Spike’ were too ill to work and Tulley became concerned.

  ‘What if it’s more than just a bad belly?’ he muttered to his wife as they watched the children groaning in their beds. ‘What if it’s infectious?’

  ‘Pah!’ Ada spat. ‘It ain’t! These kids are trying to pull the wool over your eyes, Mr Tulley! But… if you’m that worried, call the doctor in; just remember you have to pay him!’ Ada Tulley strode off, her mob cap wobbling with e
ach step she took.

  Fred Tulley scuttled down the dark corridor to his office, where he telephoned for the doctor. He was taking no chances. The medical officer was attached to the workhouse on a part-time basis, as was the schoolmaster; the doctor said he would come at once.

  An hour later, the medical officer pronounced each child very definitely unfit for work. Joshua Cooper had been a doctor for many years and knew exactly what ailed these children. He was also not afraid to speak his mind.

  ‘Whatever slop you’ve been feeding them has made them very poorly indeed!’ Dr Cooper said.

  ‘I don’t care for your attitude or your words, Dr Cooper!’ Ada Tulley snapped.

  ‘And I don’t care a bugger!’ the doctor snapped back. ‘This…’ he spread his arms, ‘is an utter disgrace! Bad meat, Mrs Tulley, that’s what has caused this. You could have poisoned every last one of them!’

  ‘I don’t have to listen to this!’ Ada bristled as she wiped her hands on her long white apron.

  ‘Shut up, woman!’ Fred snapped at his wife, his eyes burning with anger. In his mind, Fred saw the loss of work as well as the cost for calling out the Doctor, and his fury mounted even higher.

  ‘But he’s saying…’ Ada protested.

  Fred growled quietly, ‘Just be quiet, Ada, for once in your life shut that yap of yours!’

  Ada Tulley stormed away to the laundry in a foul mood, leaving her husband and the doctor behind.

  ‘Anyone else sick?’ Dr Cooper asked.

  Tulley shook his head.

  The doctor went on, ‘Right, I’ll deal with these and then I’ll write up my report for the Board.’ Seeing Tulley snap his head round, the doctor screwed his mouth up before saying, ‘Your wife has finally blotted your copybook, Tulley!’

  The inmates could hear the yelling coming from the Master’s two-storey residence later that day. Muttering to each other, they wondered what had happened to make the Master and Matron have such severe words. Certain of these words rang louder than the rest, ‘…doctor… children… sick…’ Panic began to rise in mothers and fathers alike as they feared for the lives of their children.

  Tulley addressed the women as they sat for their evening meal.

  ‘The kids have a bad belly, nothing to worry about. I’ve called in the doctor and he is administering medicine. He assures me all will be well by the morning.’

  He then went to speak with the men in their dormitories; he gave them the same speech.

  Worried looks passed among the inmates before they began their meal of stale bread and thin broth. Eyeing the broth first, each waited for the next to start. Was it the food that had caused the children to be sick? It was disgusting food, but it was better than starving. Resignedly they began to eat. It was all there was so they didn’t have much choice.

  Dr Cooper stayed in the dormitories with the children all night. He chose not to move them to the medical ward, which wouldn’t have been big enough anyway, but he moved between the boys’ and girls’ quarters regularly. He had instructed Tulley to send for a nurse to help with the children as they continued to dry-heave and sweat. There was nothing left in their small stomachs to bring up. Tulley ignored the Doctor’s instruction regarding the nurse, he felt he’d paid out enough as it was, and he wouldn’t lay out more expense on a nurse.

  By morning, most of the children were feeling better but exhausted. Only one little girl lost her battle to survive. Carrying her tiny body to the medical ward, the doctor washed her gently and dressed her in the clothes she had worn on entering the ‘Spike’. As he worked, Joshua Cooper whispered, ‘There you go, little wench, all nice and tidy now for your mum. You look just like you’re sleeping.’ Looking down at the child on the bed, he shook his head, unable to prevent the lone tear rolling down his face. ‘Poor little bugger, you didn’t ask for this and it was so unnecessary! Rest well until the Lord holds you in his arms.’

  Dr Cooper then dispatched Mrs Tulley to fetch the child’s mother.

  Liza Townsend’s screams and wails could be heard resonating all over the workhouse when the doctor explained what had occurred.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Townsend,’ Dr Cooper said as he held up the woman’s sagging body. ‘I did all I could for your little girl.’

  Liza let out another howl and the doctor sat her in a chair in the sick ward. ‘When you’re ready, I’ll take you to her.’

  Liza’s eyes found his and he saw the pleading in them. Helping her to her feet, he led her through to the bed where her daughter lay.

  Picking up the lifeless child, Liza walked round and round the room, holding her tightly. She sang quietly as she paced the floor, never taking her eyes from her little girl’s face. Then she whispered, ‘I have missed you, my sweetheart. I didn’t think they’d ever let me see you again, you know. That doctor is a nice man, bringing me to see you.’ Liza began to sing quietly again as she paced. Her arms ached but she ignored the pain. She had her daughter back and she wasn’t about to let her go again. An hour later the doctor entered the room with the Tulleys close behind.

  Liza’s screams came again as the child was prised from her arms. She kicked and fought like a wild animal and eventually she was dragged from the ward.

  The undertaker had arrived with a small wooden coffin in which the child’s body was to be placed. He’d stood outside the medical ward whilst the Tulleys tried to calm Liza enough to take her out and back to the dormitory. The woman’s screams almost burst his eardrums as she was dragged past him, and his heart went out to her. Very gently the undertaker lifted the child and laid her in the wooden box. ‘Goodnight, my little wench,’ he muttered before placing the lid on the box. The little girl would be buried in a pauper’s grave with nothing to mark the spot. He knew there would be no mourners at least not at the child’s funeral.

  Liza Townsend was pushed into the room she shared with a number of others and left there. After the door closed the women gathered around Liza and held her as she sobbed her heart out. Each woman shed a tear for Liza’s daughter; saying a silent prayer for the child.

  No one in the workhouse slept that night. Liza’s wails for her lost daughter bounced off the stone walls and carried on the still night air.

  Fred and Ada lay awake listening to the mournful cries of Liza Townsend. The repercussions of this debacle did not bear thinking about, but all the Tulleys could think about was… what would happen to them now?

  The women stayed close to Liza all night and watched as her grief appeared to turn her mind. Liza mumbled nonsense into the darkness of the room. She cackled loudly before screaming and crying once more. The loss of her daughter had, in their opinions, sent Liza Townsend quite mad.

  The men lay abed each with their own thoughts of the woman who had screamed her anguish. They knew they were the cries of a distraught mother; one who had lost her child. These wails had a sound unlike any other; they were the cries of utter futility. The woman had finally lost all hope.

  Those children who had recovered shivered at the sounds that echoed through their rooms. They knew what the woman was going through and why. The girls were one child short in their dormitory.

  The following day, the Tulleys stood in the Boardroom where the Board of Guardians sat around the table. The emergency meeting had been called regarding the death of the Townsend child. Dr Cooper was also in attendance.

  The local Magistrate, who was also the Chairman of the Board, spoke first.

  ‘Mr Tulley, we have all read Dr Cooper’s report regarding the child, Miss Townsend, and now we would wish to hear what you have to say on the matter.’

  Fred sent a withering look at the doctor before saying, ‘The kiddie was poorly…. Children die all the time, sir, I don’t know what else I can say.’

  Checking the report again, the Chairman said, ‘According to the good doctor here…’ he pointed to Dr Cooper who nodded in answer, ‘…the child was six years old. She had the body of a two-year-old due, in his opinion, to malnutrition.’ The
Chairman looked up at the Master before his eyes went back to the report. ‘The child was so undernourished she could not regain enough strength to fight off her ailment and as a result she expired at 8.05 last evening. The cause of the ailment that claimed the child’s life was due to being fed bad meat resulting in food poisoning.’ Again the Chairman looked up.

  ‘Sir,’ Ada Tulley put in quickly, ‘I would never feed any of the inmates bad meat!’

  Fred squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his wife would keep her mouth firmly closed.

  The Chairman nodded slowly as if accepting her answer. Then he whispered to his colleagues, before excusing himself and leaving the room.

  The Tulleys watched him go, wondering where he was off to. Neither dared ask, for fear of reprisals. They were in enough trouble as it was.

  During the ten minutes the Chairman was out of the room, the Tulleys stood feeling the Board members’ eyes burning into them. Ada shuffled her feet and Fred shot her a look that told her in no uncertain terms to keep still. By the time the Chairman returned and retook his seat, nervous sweat was pouring down Fred’s face.

  ‘It appears,’ he began, ‘that the cook agrees with you, Mrs Tulley.’

  Ada sighed heavily with relief, as did Fred.

  ‘Now, we would wish to speak with Mrs Townsend…’ Seeing Ada prepare to turn to fetch Liza, the Chairman went on quickly, ‘We will go to her, Mrs Tulley, if you don’t mind.’

  Ada sniffed her annoyance at being told what to do by this man. It was bad enough having to listen to Fred giving out his orders, now the Chairman was at it as well!

  Threading their way through the corridors, they passed the empty women’s quarters. Liza Townsend had been assigned to the laundry, so the group cut across the exercise yard to the building where steam escaped an open door. Liza was found wandering up and down the washing lines outside, clutching a handful of dolly pegs to her chest. She was singing softly to herself.

  ‘Townsend!’ Ada Tulley yelled. Liza ignored the call and continued to pace. Mrs Tulley began to walk towards the singing woman as Liza turned to pace back the way she had come.