There Must Be Evil

by Bernard Taylor

  There is no doubt that the visit promised a very pleasant little break for the two girls, and it began in the most relaxed and carefree way. Edith and Beatrice would eat their meals in Mrs Berry’s sitting room and share her comfortable bed at night, while during the day, when Mrs Berry was busy with her nursing duties, they would be free to play about the place or go out to the nearby shops and about the town.

  It was the custom that each year the officers of the workhouse held a Christmas/New Year ball. That year it was to take place on Thursday, the day following the girls’ arrival, and on that morning Mrs Berry, clearly now completely recovered from her attacks of ‘brain fever’, set off for Manchester to do some shopping in preparation for the event.

  Left to their own devices, Edith and Beatrice went to look around the local shops, where they bought some sweets and biscuits. Later, back at the workhouse, they awaited Mrs Berry’s return, and on her arrival ran out into the street to meet her. After helping to carry her parcels back indoors and into her sitting room, they watched as she unpacked the gown that she had bought for the ball, a glamorous, ruby-red affair which, she proudly told them, had cost four guineas (upwards of £450 today). To go with it were silk stockings, a fan and a pair of delicate slippers.

  That evening, in all her splendour, Mrs Berry went off to the party, leaving the two girls content to amuse themselves and get to bed. The next day the girls went out to the local Friday market where they bought fish for their tea, and Edith bought a little gift for her beloved Aunt Ann. In the afternoon they went to the local swimming baths where they watched an aquatics display. That evening in Mrs Berry’s sitting room they ate their supper, and afterwards went up to the bedroom where they were later joined by Mrs Berry, and where, side by side, once more, the three of them slept the night in Mrs Berry’s bed.

  Edith Annie Berry, from a photograph, c. 1885.

  It was clear to everyone who had observed Edith since her arrival that she was having a happy time and was delighting in her mother’s attentions and affection. At the same time Mrs Berry gave every sign of devotion to her child, frequently being heard referring to her as her ‘darling’. Eleven-year-old Edith had had her share of unhappiness in her life, and there can be no reason to doubt that she was greatly enjoying her little holiday in the company of her friend and her usually-absent mother.

  Mrs Berry, it would seem, had thought of everything to make her daughter’s visit a pleasure, and that Friday night marked for Edith the end of a very happy day. Tragically, it would be the last happy day that she would know.

  9

  Death in the Workhouse

  Elizabeth Berry’s bedroom was situated on the first floor of a block situated across a paved yard from the main workhouse building, and there, at about seven o’clock on the morning of Saturday 1 January, she rose from her bed, which she was sharing with Edith and Beatrice, and got ready to start the day. A little while later, with the girls still sleeping, she let herself out of the room and made her way downstairs to the ground floor and there crossed the yard to the main building.

  In her sitting room she was served breakfast, after which she began her daily routine, visiting patients in the female wing of the infirmary and then doing any necessary work in the surgery which, most conveniently, was right next door to her sitting room. She and Dr Patterson alone each held a key to the surgery, and it was here where she prepared the bandages, plasters, and whatever ointments and medicines had been prescribed by the doctor. Of all the infirmary’s medicinal supplies that were held in the surgery, the most dangerous of the medicines were kept safely locked up in a cupboard to which only Dr Patterson kept a key, though there were many other items not secured in the locked cupboard that could prove perilous to health if wrongly used.

  Soon after nine o’clock Mrs Berry’s initial duties were finished, and she was back in her sitting room at 9.30 when Edith and Beatrice came in, ready to have their breakfasts. At ten, when the girls’ breakfasts were on the table, Edith complained that she felt sick and couldn’t eat. Moments later she began to vomit. Alarmingly, her vomiting grew more frequent and soon the vomited matter was seen to be streaked with blood. Something had to be done, and as soon as Dr Patterson arrived at the workhouse shortly after noon Mrs Berry sent for him to come and see the child. He entered the sitting room to find Edith lying on the sofa. She complained of pains over her belly, and Mrs Berry, asked as to the likely cause of the child’s illness, said she thought it was due to her having had a heavy supper the night before. She then handed the doctor a towel on which, she said, was some of Edith’s vomited matter, and showed him a vessel containing a quantity of matter with blood in it. The doctor thought that the girl might be suffering from an ulcerated stomach, and with this in mind he went next door to the surgery and made up a medicine which he gave to Mrs Berry with directions as to the girl’s treatment. Then, after instructing her to put the child to bed, he left.

  In spite of the doctor’s ministrations Edith continued to vomit and suffer pain, and that afternoon when Beatrice went to see her – she was now lying in Mrs Berry’s bed upstairs – Mrs Berry sent her off to fetch the head nurse of the female imbecile ward. She, Sarah Anderson, came without delay, but could do nothing to ease the child’s suffering.

  That night, at 10.20, having been summoned by Mrs Berry, Dr Patterson came to see Edith again, now in Mrs Berry’s bedroom. He found her no better. On asking Mrs Berry whether she had given the child the medicine he had left she replied that she had tried to do so on two occasions, but each time the child had vomited it up. After instructing her to give the child no more of the medicine mixture, he left, saying he would call again the next day.

  Next day, Sunday the 2nd, was to bring better news. When Dr Patterson called at noon he was relieved to find Edith’s condition considerably improved. The girl’s vomiting was less frequent, Mrs Berry told him. She then once more handed him a towel with vomited matter on it. Putting it to his nose he found it had an acidic smell. With Mrs Berry accompanying him, he then went down to the surgery and there set about making up a mixture of creosote* and bicarbonate of soda. Finding the creosote bottle empty, in an act that would come back to haunt him, he made do with rinsing it out with a little water and adding the solution to the bicarbonate of soda. After giving Mrs Berry directions on when to administer the medicine, he ordered more creosote to be got from the chemist, and instructed her on how to make up the mixture. That done, he left Mrs Berry’s side, saying that she should send him word of Edith’s progress.

  Although Dr Patterson had expressed optimism when voicing his hopes for Edith’s recovery, this was not reflected in the reality, for later that afternoon the child’s condition took a turn for the worse. Mrs Berry, expressing great concern at the situation, sent urgently for Sarah Anderson from the female imbecile ward to come and see the girl again, and a little later for the head nurse of the children’s ward, Lydia Evett. The two women found Edith vomiting and suffering great pain in the stomach and bowels, but neither was able to do anything to help.

  Just after five o’clock Dr Patterson was again sent for, but he did not arrive until about nine o’clock that night. When he did, he was shocked to see the child. Where he had expected to find her further improved, it was to find that in the hours since his last visit her condition had greatly deteriorated. Not only was she in great pain, and vomiting, but now he saw that her lips were red and swollen and there was a blister on her upper lip. When he spoke of it to Mrs Berry, she told him that she had given the child a lemon with some sugar, and she supposed it was the lemon that had caused it. She also said that the child was vomiting very frequently, and was also being purged, the evacuations containing blood. Now alarmed, Dr Patterson said that he wanted to have the opinion of another doctor, and leaving the child’s side he at once went to the home of a colleague, Dr Robertson, and asked him to come and see her without delay.

  Dr George Robertson – a thirty-seven-year-old Scot with a medical practice nearby
– obeyed the urgent summons and accompanied Dr Patterson to the child’s bedside. There Mrs Berry told him of Edith’s vomiting and purging. Dr Patterson had by now abandoned his initial belief that she was suffering from a stomach ulcer and, unable to account for her condition by any other natural illness, had come to the conclusion that she must have ingested some kind of irritant poison. Dr Robertson concurred, though what poison it might be neither man could say. Anxious to ease the child’s suffering, Dr Patterson went down to the surgery and made up a mixture of morphia* and bismuth† and, back in the bedroom, gave a little to the girl. Then, telling Mrs Berry to give the child injections of warm milk and more ice to suck, he and Dr Robertson left. Both were now of the opinion that the child’s case was hopeless, and that she was unlikely to survive.

  Later that night Mrs Berry was called away to an expectant mother’s confinement, leaving the infirmary assistants Ann Dillon and Ellen Thompson to keep vigil at Edith’s bedside. Throughout the time they sat with her, she continued to vomit and have diarrhoea.

  First thing the next morning Edith’s friend Beatrice – having spent the night in the nurse Sarah Anderson’s bed – ate her breakfast and prepared to make her way, alone, back to Miles Platting. What had begun as a happy, carefree holiday had ended in the saddest and darkest way. Just before she left the workhouse, about ten o’clock, she went to say goodbye to her friend. She found her very sick indeed. She was never to see her again.

  As Beatrice Hall made her way home, Mrs Berry returned to her bedroom where Ann Dillon and Ellen Thompson were sitting at Edith’s bedside. A little while later, leaving Edith still in the care of the two assistants, Mrs Berry put on her coat and set out for the post office. There she sent a telegram to her sister-in-law Ann Sanderson:

  COME AT ONCE ANNIE IS DYING. E BERRY OLDHAM UNION

  Telegrams were notorious for delivering bad news, and it is likely that on receiving it Ann Sanderson felt somewhat alarmed. As she was illiterate, however, she was unable to read its contents and would have needed someone to read it for her – this would probably have been one of her young sons, who were home from school for the Christmas holidays. The words of the telegram would, of course, have come as the most tremendous shock, and hearing them she at once hurried to see her husband at his place of work. Together they set out for Oldham.

  Arriving at the workhouse, they were taken up to Mrs Berry’s bedroom where Ann Sanderson went to the sick child’s side and, bending to her, asked, ‘Are you poorly, Annie?’ ‘Yes,’ the little girl replied.

  Edith had left her aunt and uncle’s side in a perfectly healthy state just days before, and one can only imagine how the Sandersons must have felt on finding her now in such a wretched state – seeing blisters on her mouth, observing her vomiting and purging, and hearing her crying out with pain. The little girl had spent much of her short life with the couple, and she had become like a daughter to them.

  Ann and John Sanderson stayed by Edith’s side through the rest of the day, watching helplessly as her condition continued to worsen. At one time John Sanderson got her to drink a few sips of tea with milk, but as the hours dragged by it became clear to everyone that she was sinking. Dr Patterson called again during the evening, but he was unable to do anything for her. He could see no glimmer of hope for her now.

  Later that evening John Sanderson, aware that he could do nothing to help, left the workhouse to rejoin his sons at Miles Platting, leaving his wife to sit with sister-in-law Elizabeth at Edith’s bedside.

  Close on midnight Mrs Berry, very tired, took off some of her clothes and lay down on the bed at Edith’s side, where she quickly dozed off. She was still sleeping an hour later when the silence in the room was broken with Edith suddenly crying out and giving two loud shrieks. Mrs Berry, at once awakened, remarked that a change was taking place.

  She got dressed again then and, through the small hours of the morning, as the child’s life slowly ebbed away, she and Ann Sanderson sat watching as Edith vomited and writhed in agony, at times clutching at her belly and crying out, ‘Oh! Mamma! Mamma!’

  As the time passed, the child’s vomiting became less frequent and eventually ceased altogether. A little later and she became quiet and calm, her breathing very faint.

  Mrs Berry did not remain at her daughter’s side. About four in the morning she got up from her chair, telling Ann Sanderson that she could not bear ‘to see the lass go’. She went then from the room, and to her bed on the sofa downstairs, leaving her sister-in-law alone with the dying girl.

  Outside over the Oldham streets a freezing fog was creeping, wrapping the town in a bitter chill and enclosing the workhouse in its icy shroud. Up in the bedroom Ann Sanderson sat weeping beside the bed in the pale glow of the gaslight, looking down at Edith’s pallid cheeks and blistered mouth, and taking in the sounds of her faint, tortured breathing.

  Just on five o’clock Edith took her last faltering breath and died.

  *

  There are two kinds of creosote – wood-tar and coal-tar, the wood-tar variety being then used medicinally as an antiseptic, anaesthetic and laxative.

  *

  Now known as morphine.

  †

  Bismuth is a metal, of which certain components are used in medicine, mainly to treat irritative and painful conditions of the stomach or bowels, on which they have a sedative action. In larger quantities it is a poison, chemically resembling antimony.

  10

  The Doctor’s Suspicions

  Soon after the coming of dawn, with the morning’s pale daylight struggling to pierce the fog, the workhouse came to life and word of Edith’s death spread through the building. As soon as the hour was right Mrs Berry sent a messenger to Dr Patterson and he came to the workhouse and to the bedroom where the dead child lay. After a brief examination of the girl’s body he covered her face and, after some conversation with Mrs Berry, left the room.

  We do not know what passed between them at the meeting, but he made no mention of providing a death certificate, which was required to enable the burial to take place and for the payment of any life insurance monies coming due.

  The fact is that the doctor had become more and more convinced that the child had died as the result of ingesting a poison, and he was of the firm belief that it was the child’s mother who had administered it. His convictions could not be kept to himself, of course, and after leaving the workhouse he made his way to the Oldham Police Station and there conveyed his suspicions to the borough’s Chief Constable, Charles Hodgkinson. At the same time he took with him the towel that he had brought from the child’s sickroom. Handing it to Mr Hodgkinson, he asked him to send it to the city analyst for examination.

  Back at the workhouse Mrs Berry was growing increasingly anxious to acquire the child’s death certificate, and eventually, not having it offered to her by the doctor, she had no choice but to go and ask for it. She took the first opportunity presented when, later that day, Dr Patterson was at work in the surgery. Going into the room, Mrs Berry found him with a patient, with several more waiting to see him. As soon as there came an opportunity she went to him and asked for the certificate, saying that she needed it as she wanted to arrange the funeral. He replied that he couldn’t deal with it at that moment, but would see her about it ‘presently’.

  She was in her sitting room later when the doctor came to her door. Invited in, he told her that he was unable to issue a death certificate as neither he nor Dr Robertson knew what to put on it as regards the cause of death. He then said that he would like her permission to carry out a postmortem examination of the child’s body. If Mrs Berry had been dismayed a moment earlier, these words must have come as something of a shock. After a moment’s hesitation, however, she gave her assent. Dr Patterson went on to say – anxious not to arouse her suspicions – that he wanted the post-mortem purely for medical and academic purposes, and that he would confine the examination to the child’s abdomen.

  After leaving her, the doctor
made arrangements for the post-mortem to be performed the next day, 5 January, by himself and Dr Robertson.

  It snowed heavily during the night, and next morning Drs Patterson and Robertson braved the snow-deep streets to meet in the workhouse where, together, under the glow of the gas lamps, they made an examination of the girl’s remains. Its conclusion, however, left them without satisfactory answers, and they concluded that a complete and thorough autopsy was necessary. To this end a request was made to the District Coroner, with whose permission it was then arranged for a full postmortem to be carried out the next day, the two doctors working with Dr Thomas Harris of the Manchester Royal Infirmary.

  Aware that the doctors had completed the partial autopsy on her child, Mrs Berry was anxious to know of their findings, and, above all, to obtain the much-needed death certificate. So it was that later that Wednesday she went once more to see Dr Patterson. Faced again with her request, he took a rather curious step. In a move that would later bring him some criticism, he agreed to issue a certificate – which he did, stating on it that Edith’s death was due to ‘acute inflammation of the mucous membrane of the stomach and bowels’.

  When Mrs Berry left the doctor she was in a far more satisfied state of mind.

  The next morning, Thursday, the Chief Constable, Charles Hodgkinson, accompanied by Inspector Charles Purser, came calling at the workhouse to see Mrs Berry. To their disappointment, however, they found that she was absent from the building.

  Unaware of the police’s interest in her, Mrs Berry had left the workhouse earlier for Miles Platting. The snow was thick and freezing on the ground and the air bitterly cold, but she was undeterred by the chill. And although she had many things to do, she had the satisfaction of having the child’s death certificate in her pocket.