‘Folk were afraid, Cara. Even though the doctor assured everyone the fever had died out, and the fence was removed, people stayed away from the area. They had seen whole streets of families taken to meet their maker, and they didn’t wish to join them.’ Mr Harris’s voice held a sadness as he spoke. ‘Eventually, people came to Bilston from other towns and, not knowing the terrible history of the area, some took up residence, but a lot of the houses remained empty. I’m not sure the areas will ever be revived.’
‘Look Mr Harris, if I can buy these properties, I assure you I will fill them with people. I will give the area a new lease of life!’ Cara’s excitement began to rise.
‘I can only wish you good luck, but you may well be buying a pig-in-a-poke.’ Mr Harris saw her frown, not understanding what he meant. ‘Let me explain. Even if you buy these buildings, people, even those from the workhouse, may not wish to live in them. Then you’ll have the same problem as me… empty houses no one will move into.’
‘We’ll see about that, Mr Harris, you let me have these properties and then watch what I do with them.’ Cara was determined not to back down on this.
Eventually Mr Harris conceded. Her contention was – money in his pocket was preferable to having empty buildings on his books. Houses that no one else was interested in. Properties, although almost derelict, she could put to good use and… Mr Harris would be helping in her quest to aid the poor of the town. She left the office as the new owner of properties in the three streets she had visited.
*
Cara had devilment in her and decided not to make an appointment at the ‘Spike’, she would just arrive and hope the ‘delightful’ Mr Tulley would grant her an interview with the inmates. Her confidence was increasing day by day and with each property bought it meant more folk released from the soul-destroying drudgery of the workhouse.
The cab rolled up to the large gate and Cara climbed out. Paying the cabbie, she turned to see the porter had opened the gate to allow her entry. He was unaware she was not expected by the workhouse Master. By now he was used to her comings and goings.
Hammering on the oak door inside, Cara waited. It was opened by the same rail-thin woman, who gave her a wan smile before leading her to the office.
Tulley inwardly fumed at the audacity of the young woman now standing before him.
‘Miss Flowers,’ he growled, ‘it is customary to make an appointment, as well you know!’ Cara nodded and placed ten pounds on the desk. She watched his greedy eyes covet the money. ‘However,’ Tulley looked up at her, ‘as we have conducted business on previous occasions, I see no reason why we should not do so again. I am incapacitated as you see…’ he indicated his sling, ‘…so perhaps you might see yourself to the yard. I’m sure you know the way by now.’ In reality Tulley, even having given his injury as an excuse, couldn’t be bothered to act as this woman’s guide.
‘I do, sir, but I feel it would be highly inappropriate to wander around your workhouse alone. You are the Master here after all…’ Cara smiled sweetly.
Getting to his feet reluctantly, Tulley left the money untouched on the desk and led the way to the bone and stone yard, where Cara’s appearance stopped work immediately. They all knew who this lady was and if stopping work irked the Master, they didn’t care. Cara Flowers was far more important to them at the moment. It was she who could get them out of this place, and they were desperate to be the next to be taken out. The men gathered around her, taking care not to dirty her clothes.
Tulley retreated into the doorway once more, his mind on the money on his desk.
‘Gentlemen,’ Cara said as she looked around her. Each man nodded a response. ‘You are all aware of my ultimate goal…’ More nods. ‘All those with children are now out of this place. Therefore if you have a wife in here please wait by the door.’ She knew there were no children left in the workhouse, so it would be husbands and wives and possibly single men and women.
Five men shuffled over to where Tulley stood shaking his head.
‘Good. Five houses allocated. Now the rest of you I take it are single men?’ She watched as the nods came again. ‘I have eight more houses very badly in need of repair…’ The men looked around, making a mental head count. ‘I can take eight of you out with me today or, if you are prepared to share a house, we can double that figure.’
Shuffling feet pushed closer to her as she scanned the faces. She noted there were more than double that number remaining. Every pair of eyes were watching her as she faced the dilemma of who to choose. The younger men, whilst rake thin, still had some colour in their faces, there was some strength left in their bodies, but the older men were hunched over at the shoulders. Their skin was pallid and drawn and she knew these would have to be the first to come out with her.
‘I have decided to take the older members of your group first, but rest easy in the knowledge I will come back for those of you remaining.’ Her heart ached at the disappointed faces of the men left behind, but she would get them out as soon as she could.
Tulley led Cara and the men back to his office and whilst he put each through the signing out procedure, Cara was dismissed to wait outside the gate.
Pacing back and forth, her frustration began to mount at having to wait, but she knew it would be worth it in the end.
Three hours later, twenty one men and five women walked through the wrought-iron gate to greet her. The joy of their being released eased Cara’s tension and she smiled a returned greeting. Explaining her intentions, Cara led the happy group towards their new homes and their new lives.
As the group neared the area they were heading for, quiet mutterings began and the pace slowed. Cara stopped when a woman spoke up. ‘Miss Flowers, am we going to the “black area”?’
Cara asked in return, ‘The “black area”?’
‘Ar,’ the woman went on, ‘the place the scarlet fever raged.’
Cara sighed heavily, she had hoped these people would be so glad to be out of the ‘Spike’ they might not question where they were headed. Now she was faced with having to answer the woman’s question and convince them all it was perfectly safe.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Yes, but please understand, the properties are perfectly safe now.’
‘I ain’t so sure,’ the woman said, ‘don’t misunderstand me, Miss Flowers, we’m all very grateful for what you’re trying to do, but…’
Cara’s eye roamed the twenty six people stood around her, looking on anxiously. Now what would she do? Mr. Harris’s prediction was coming true. These people were afraid.
Looking around her, Cara said, ‘Right, come with me.’ She led them a short way down Queen Street and out onto a patch of scrubland. ‘Now, I need you to wait here for me. I need to do a quick errand and I won’t be long. I will be back in half an hour.’ Taking some money from her bag, she gave it to one of the men. ‘Go along to the Prince of Wales pub and get a few jugs of beer to share. I’ll be back before you’ve drunk it.’
The women sat on the wasteland as the men made for the pub. Cara walked briskly back along the street. Hailing a cab sat waiting for a fare, she gave the driver the address she needed to go to.
True to her word, Cara arrived back half an hour later with Dr Cooper at her side. She smiled to see the people chatting and laughing, the beer obviously having gone straight to their heads. It was no wonder, drinking beer on an empty stomach was not a good idea. She should have suggested food, but it was all she could think of at the time and at least the people didn’t look so worried.
As she and the doctor had travelled in the cab, she had explained her predicament and had asked the doctor to have a word with the frightened people.
Standing before them now, while Cara asked the cabbie to wait to return the doctor to his home, Dr Cooper began to speak. ‘Right then, Miss Flowers has told me what’s going on here, so I’ve come along to explain to you. The scarlet fever can be caught by breathing in bacteria from an infected person, by touching the rash on t
heir skin or from sharing their clothes and bed linen. The symptoms are sore throat, headache, a swollen tongue in some cases and a rash on the chest which spreads over the rest of the body. Infection lasts for a couple of weeks after these symptoms appear.’ Dr Cooper watched as the people looked at each other then resumed. ‘When this occurred in the “black area”, it was not diagnosed quickly enough unfortunately, and many people died before the illness ran its course. However, I’m here to tell you… you cannot catch scarlet fever from a building!’
As applause sounded out, Cara thanked the doctor as he climbed into the cab. As she turned back to the people sitting on the scrubland, she was relieved when the woman who had spoken before said, ‘Right, you men, get those jugs back to the pub and hurry it up. Miss Flowers ain’t got all day!’ As the men scrambled to their feet, the woman turned to Cara with a big smile. ‘Thanks for that,’ she said, ‘We all feel better about it now.’
Cara returned the woman’s smile while they waited for the men to return from the pub. Maybe Mr Harris would be proven wrong after all.
*
Fred Tulley stared at the ten pounds Cara Flowers had left on his desk. He knew for certain now what she was up to. It was her intention to close the ‘Spike’ and she was attempting to accomplish this by emptying the place.
Fred pondered the twenty six people he had just released and wondered how far the young woman’s money would stretch. If Miss Flowers managed to get the majority of inmates released, housed and in work – would the Local Government Board close the place down? Surely they would not keep it open for a handful of residents? Indeed not. Fred Tulley considered the prospect. Maybe it was time to move on, to find employment elsewhere. He didn’t want to wake up one morning and find himself out of a job, or worse… an inmate in his own workhouse!
The more he thought on the matter, the more the idea appealed to him. He could just take off. He could take the money he and Ada had saved and do a ‘moonlight flit’. Best of all, he could leave his wife behind. Freedom from Ada and the ‘Spike’ beckoned and Fred felt the stirrings of excitement begin to grow.
In the meantime, Ada Tulley had been thinking much the same thing as she sat in her living room, beer in hand. Her husband had tried to murder her and she knew it was just a matter of time before he succeeded. However, life was a great deal harder for a woman alone. Where would she go? What would she do? How would she live? Ada was also aware that at the rate the workhouse was emptying, her position as Matron was under threat. Yes, folk were still trickling into the place, but they were leaving at a faster rate!
Supping on her beer, Ada considered her options. She could up and leave Fred to it or she could stay and see what the future brought. The decision was a difficult one and she pondered it long and hard. Eventually the only conclusion she came to was to have another beer!
Nineteen
Joseph Purcell stepped from his carriage and whistled through his teeth as his eyes rolled over The Laburnums. Cara Flowers certainly lived in style, he thought as he drank in the grandeur of the house and gardens. His own house was not nearly so grand, and he felt jealousy rear in him.
Molly answered the knock on the front door and with a sniff she asked the Chairman to come in. She led him through the hall towards the parlour where Cara and Martin Lander were sitting by the fire. As he followed the maid, Purcell took in the beauty of the inside of the house. Obviously no expense had been spared on this place. Again jealousy seethed in him.
Molly brought in fresh tea before slipping quietly back to the kitchen.
‘Miss Flowers, Martin,’ Purcell said as he sat on an easy chair. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.’ Damn! He hadn’t expected Lander to be here too.
‘You are very welcome, Mr Purcell,’ Cara answered. ‘What is it I can do for you?’ She curled her hands in her lap to quell their nervous shaking.
Joseph smiled inwardly. Straight to business – he liked that, no messing around. ‘I wanted to meet the young woman I’ve heard so much about. People are singing your praises all over the town, Miss Flowers.’
‘Please call me Cara,’ the girl blushed at the compliment as she brushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear.
Joseph nodded and turned to Martin Lander. ‘Martin, I hear also you have set up your own law practice… a wise move in my opinion.’
Martin nodded his thanks. ‘One that has benefited me already.’ Indeed work was pouring into his office and was keeping him very busy. He wisely chose to say nothing about his partners forcing him into the move.
Cara eyed her visitor, wondering at the true reason for his calling at her home. She remembered what she’d been told by the residents of ‘Cara’s Cottages’ regarding this man’s visit to them previously and to remain on her guard.
As if reading her thoughts, Joseph moved his eyes back to hers. ‘Miss… Cara,’ he corrected himself, ‘it is widely known of your good deeds regarding rehousing workhouse inmates…’ Cara gave him a beautiful smile and Purcell found himself beguiled. ‘I was wondering why you chose inmates over the poor of the town living outside of the “Spike” gates?’
‘Mr Purcell, the inmates, as you call them, do not have the luxury of living outside of the workhouse gates. However, it is my intention to remedy that problem. In time I hope to see that awful place empty of its residents. It is my fervent hope that it will be closed down… for good!’ Cara’s voice held a quiet determination.
‘I see.’ Joseph was surprised at her words. ‘May I ask why you think it should be closed down?’
Cara felt the look of disbelief cross her face as she watched the man she knew little about who sat across from her. ‘Why it should…! Mr Purcell, you are the Chairman of the Board of Guardians there and yet you seem oblivious as to what goes on in that dreadful building!’ Cara’s blood was now up and her anger was already beginning to show.
‘In that case, please enlighten me,’ he said.
Cara looked at the man aghast. Was he toying with her? Was he mocking her? Or was it that he really was unaware of the goings-on in the place he oversaw? Taking a deep breath, Cara launched into her explanation from the beginning, telling him of her grandmother’s challenge.
‘It was Martin’s suggestion to search the workhouse for my family members and it was there I found my brother Charlie. I was duped out of money in exchange for my brother’s release, and my little sister had been sold on only to run away. People in that workhouse are being starved, abused and neglected. The cook left because of it, and has since admitted to the fact she was forced to use rotten food on pain of losing her job. That same rotten food caused the death of an innocent young child. The blame for that lies squarely at the feet of the Tulleys.
‘I am using the money left to me by my grandmother to buy up old properties, which are being renovated and lived in by the former workhouse residents. These people have been given back their dignity, the proof of which can be seen in the hard work they are doing on their houses.’ Cara’s frustration and temper was building and she fought hard to control herself. She had hurried on, barely taking time to draw breath, and so incensed was she, she was totally unaware her guard was well and truly down.
Joseph Purcell listened quietly throughout, nodding every now and then. He was extremely interested in what this young woman was telling him, so much so he had not taken his eyes from her face. She was up to something and he wanted to know what it was and if it affected him directly.
Martin Lander quietly watched the man watching Cara and he wondered at the other man’s motives. He also wondered if Purcell was interested in more than what Cara was telling him. Was he interested in Cara herself? Martin needed to put some distance between Purcell and Cara and to put a stop to what was going on in his mind.
Cara’s words came to a halt as Martin got to his feet. ‘Perhaps Mr Purcell might like to meet Charlie and hear his account of his experience in the workhouse,’ he said.
‘I think you could be right, Mar
tin,’ Cara said with a smile as she stood to pull the bell pull at the side of the fireplace to summon the maid. Both Martin and Cara were pleased for the distraction, however Purcell was not.
*
The men from ‘Cara’s Cottages’ were lending a hand with the properties in Brook Street, Chapel Street and Hare Street and the work was coming on well, and quickly. So much so in fact that there were whispers about what they would do once that work was at an end. Wally Webb, one of the first to be released from the workhouse by Cara, had been made foreman and spokesman for their little community. He oversaw the work now being done in the three streets across town, and he too realized it was almost at an end.
The women’s bakery stall on the market was doing a brisk trade, keeping them very busy, so the women in the newer houses had joined the co-operative. Pies, cakes and pastries were being turned out and carried to the market, where they sold almost immediately. Profits were being made and in turn rent was being paid to Cara each week. It wasn’t that important to Cara that rent was coming in on time, but she knew the restored pride of the people she had rescued would not have it any other way. They would want to pay their way to the woman who had turned their lives around.
The derelict shops in Gozzard Street had also been renovated, along with the living quarters above. The small businesses which had been set up by the former workhouse residents were thriving. One became a tailors, another a cobblers, yet another was a sweet shop selling home-made toffees and chocolates.
Wally Webb pondered these developments as he and the other men stood around on their tea break. He knew Cara Flowers had also purchased the old factory building at the end of Hare Street, and he called for the other men’s attention. ‘I suggest we start work at the old factory next,’ he proposed.
‘We ain’t been instructed to do that as yet,’ someone piped up.
Wally replied, ‘It’s only a matter of time, mate. Besides, it will be a wonderful surprise for Cara and another way of showing our gratitude.’
The Workhouse Children Page 14