Bertha and Liza arrived at twelve o’clock on the dot. Cara, Charlie and Daisy were ready and waiting. An excited Daisy shot off to the kitchen shouting, ‘Come on Gracie, we’re ready for the off!’
Charlie carried the two picnic baskets and they began their stroll down Proud’s Lane, deciding to walk the long way round rather than cut through the working allotment site.
It was as they reached the intersection with Dover Street that a loud clatter of hooves and the rumble of cart wheels could be heard. They all stood to the side and gasped as the horse and cart thundered towards them from Fletcher Street. It was travelling fast – too fast for this small road.
Suddenly the driver yanked on the horse’s reins in order to turn it around the sharp bend into Dover Street. It was travelling so fast the cart slid across the cobbles. As the driver glanced over his shoulder to see if the cart had overturned, he didn’t see the woman standing on the corner. Turning his eyes forward again he watched, as if in slow motion, the horse’s flank catch the standing woman as it tried to avoid trampling her down.
The woman was knocked off her feet and landed with a thud on the hard cobbles. The driver pulled with all his might on the reins and the horse skidded to a halt, its eyes wild and nostrils flaring. Jumping down he ran to the woman who was now trying to get to her feet and was rubbing her sore back.
Cara and the others watched as the woman eventually drew back her arm and swung her heavy bag hitting the man on the shoulder. The woman was tearing him off a strip about going far too fast on a narrow road. She yelled she should rightly tell the coppers and he’d be dragged off to jail.
The little group watching could see she wasn’t hurt thankfully, and as they turned to resume their walk, Cara saw Liza standing holding her head.
‘Mother, are you alright?’ Cara asked rushing to Liza whose face was ashen.
‘Oh my God!’ Liza gasped. ‘I remember!’ She glanced at each of them. ‘I remember it all now!’ Then Liza began to sob.
‘Come on, let’s get you home,’ Cara said then turning to Daisy added, ‘I’m sorry sweetheart, we’ll have to have a picnic another day.’
Daisy nodded as she wrapped her arms around her mother.
Charlie’s eyes brimmed with tears as memories also flooded back to him. Passing the baskets to Bertha and Gracie, he rushed forward and swept Liza into his arms. He carried her home as the others followed quietly behind.
Gracie and Bertha made tea and carried it to the parlour, then they returned to the kitchen to wonder just what it was Liza had remembered.
Liza sat on the sofa with Daisy on one side of her and Charlie on the other, she was shaking and the cup rattled on its saucer as Cara handed her the tea. Sipping the hot liquid Liza finally brought her emotions under control.
Finally Cara asked gently, ‘Are you able to tell us what you remember?’
Liza nodded. Drawing in a deep breath she said in a low voice, ‘It was the accident in the street that triggered it and then it all came flooding back.’
Daisy leaned against Liza and Charlie laid his arm across her shoulder protectively.
Liza looked at Cara. ‘I was so pig-headed when you were little. I wouldn’t listen to your grandmother. She hated John and when you were about two years old you were really poorly. She brought you back here to take care of you; she asked me to come too but John wouldn’t let me.’ Liza gave a sob then continued. ‘I was forbidden to see you or my own mother – John wouldn’t allow it, he was such a bully!’
‘We remember mum,’ Charlie said as his heart went out to her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Liza nodded. Daisy moved to sit on her knee. ‘My but you’re getting big now,’ Liza added as she laced her arms around her young daughter who laid her head on her mother’s chest.
‘Well, I had to go with John on the cart until you were born Charlie, then I stayed at home. I took you with me when I went scavenging and coal picking… we never had any money – John was a drinker. That became a bit more difficult when our Daisy came long, but I managed.’
Daisy lifted her head and kissed her mother’s cheek before nestling down again. Liza gave a tiny smile at the gesture.
‘Why didn’t you come back here to Grandma?’ Cara asked quietly.
‘Oh I wanted to, believe me, but I knew John would find me. God knows what he might have done then.’ Liza shook her head. ‘I remember the last time I saw you two,’ she said giving Daisy a squeeze and looking at Charlie.
‘Don’t mum…’ Charlie began.
‘You need to know son,’ she said with sadness in her voice.
‘John came home drunk, he beat me badly. Then he sent you two scavenging. While you were out he forced me onto the cart and drove away.’ Liza’s tears flowed as she spoke.
Cara saw Daisy was quietly sobbing and tears filled her own eyes. Dragging a cushion from the chair she plopped it down on the floor in front of her mother and sat on it. Taking Liza’s hand she held it and stroked the back with her thumb.
‘John and I stayed in a derelict cottage in Birmingham while he was carting there. The roof leaked and it was draughty. I was so poorly all the time with coughs and colds. Well, one day a man came to tell me John had died in a carting accident. The loaded cart knocked him down and crushed his chest as it rolled over him. So, then I was on my own.’
‘Why d’aint you come back for us then mum?’ Daisy asked, her tears having subsided as she listened to Liza’s story.
‘I wrote to your Grandma and asked if I could come back but she never replied. She ignored my pleas.’
Cara remembered the words in her grandmother’s letter, Also if you find my daughter, tell her I rue the day I ignored her plea.
Cara told Liza what had been said in the letter.
‘Oh my God!’ Liza cried out. ‘If only I had tried harder, so much misery could have been avoided!’
‘I’m sure you did all you could,’ Cara tried to comfort her mother.
‘I thought so at the time…’ Liza began, then taking another deep breath went on. ‘I came back to Bilston and searched for you both. Our old cottage was always empty so I thought it was abandoned. I wanted to find you and bring you here to this house with me, so we could all be together again.’
‘We would have probably been in the workhouse by then mum,’ Charlie said quietly as he thought about Liza’s words.
Liza gasped, ‘Oh my poor children, I’m so very sorry!’
‘Mum, don’t get upset, we’re all together now and that’s what is important.’ Charlie comforted her with a hug.
Liza nodded sadly then resumed. ‘When I couldn’t find you, I came back here but there was never anyone at home. I wondered if your Grandma had sold up and moved on. Eventually I went into service for Mr. Townsend.’
‘Phoebe’s father?’ Cara asked softly.
‘Yes. As time went on we married and had Phoebe. I thought my son and daughter must have died… possibly of starvation, when I couldn’t find you. I was distraught and constantly asked Arthur – Mr Townsend – if we could keep looking for you.’
‘What did he say?’ Daisy asked
‘He said sweetheart, that you had most likely died and were lost to me forever. It broke my heart.’
‘So how did you come to be on the heath that day?’ Cara asked.
‘I found out Arthur had been having an affair with another woman, I found a letter in his pocket. He was going to leave me and move in with her, so Phoebe and I set off to confront him at the bank where he worked.’
‘Oh mum, you don’t have much luck with men do you?’ Charlie asked in an attempt to dispel a little of his mother’s gloom.
Shaking her head Liza went on. ‘There was a horse galloping over the heath – it must have broken loose from somewhere – and as it raced past it knocked me flying. I must have hit my head on a stone or something because the next thing I remembered was waking up with Phoebe crying her eyes out.’
‘What happened to the horse?’ Daisy aske
d.
‘I expect when it calmed down it went home,’ Liza answered.
‘That would account for no one looking for it and finding you injured on the heath,’ Cara added. Then she said, ‘Why didn’t Arthur search for you when he discovered you and Phoebe were missing?’
‘I’d left the letter on the table and he probably thought I’d left him taking Phoebe with me. I suppose that would have left him free to move in with his mistress.’ Liza snorted her disgust.
‘Bastard!’ Charlie rasped.
‘Language young man!’ Liza said as she tapped his knee.
‘Sorry mum,’ Charlie looked suitably berated.
‘What happened next?’ Daisy asked frowning her annoyance at Charlie’s interruption.
‘I tried to scavenge but I couldn’t feed Phoebe and myself and eventually we ended up in the workhouse. It was in there that Phoebe died of food poisoning.’ Liza’s tears flowed freely once more.
‘So, Phoebe Townsend was our half-sister?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yes son, she was.’ Liza sighed as silence descended. Everyone was wrapped up in their own thoughts about what Liza had told them.
Liza however, had no intention of divulging the events that had taken place in Wolverhampton Union Workhouse concerning the Tulleys. That was a secret that only she and Bertha shared and she knew they would both take it to their graves, so certain was she of the bond of friendship.
Cara broke the silence with, ‘I still wish you would come and live with us here.’
‘I’ll talk to Bertha about it,’ Liza said, ‘you never know, she might be glad to have her house to herself again. Then again, she might want me to stay. Either way, I promise I’m going to see a lot more of the Flowers family in the future now we have all found each other. I swear nothing will part us ever again.’ Then she kissed each of her children in turn. Gazing down at her daughter she whispered, ‘Thank you Cara for bringing my workhouse children safely back to me.’
We hope you enjoyed this book!
Lindsey Hutchinson’s next book is coming in summer 2017
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The Llanfyllin Workhouse Restorers
About Lindsey Hutchinson
LINDSEY HUTCHINSON lives in Shropshire with her husband and dog and loves to read and has recently discovered photography. She is the daughter of million copy bestselling author Meg Hutchinson.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the UK in 2016 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Lindsey Hutchinson, 2016
The moral right of Lindsey Hutchinson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781786692511
Aria
Clerkenwell House
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The Workhouse Children Page 32