Cara picked up the diary and held it reverently, looking down at its leather cover. Maybe there were other diaries, maybe her grandmother had always kept a journal. Searching the drawers and wardrobe frantically, Cara found nothing, then lifting the lid of an ottoman, she saw them. Diaries piled one on another, years of experiences written down.
Carefully Cara lifted them out of their hiding place and laid them on the bed. Twenty leather bound journals waiting to be read. Staring down at them, Cara wondered if they would contain information regarding her mother. Would they provide the answers she was seeking? Did she really want to know? Yes, whatever was contained on those pages would provide, at the very least, an insight into her grandmother’s thoughts. Gathering them up, she carried them to her own bedroom. Setting them in date order, she settled herself on the bed to read, the clearing of her grandmother’s bedroom quite forgotten.
The first entry was dated twenty years previous and Cara looked over the beautiful copperplate writing.
Elizabeth has decided she wishes to marry…
Cara read on.
She has met a man by the name of John Flowers. I have my doubts about the man. He is a carter by trade and I had such high hopes for Elizabeth to marry well. She is besotted with the man, but for the life of me I can’t see why. It would have pleased me immensely had she chosen a doctor or a lawyer, but love is fickle. How I wish her father was still with us, he would have advised her. Elizabeth always did listen more to her father than to me.
A knock to her bedroom door disturbed Cara’s reading and she looked up when Molly walked in to tell her dinner was ready. She walked down to the kitchen with the maid.
Once seated, Cara told the others about her discovery. ‘I never knew Grandma kept a diary,’ she said, ‘and I’ve only read the beginning so far.’
‘Well, good or bad, at least you might learn something,’ Gracie said.
Cara nodded and turned her attention to the children who were bickering light-heartedly. Once her brother and sister were settled in bed she would return to the diaries.
No matter what she discovered she knew she would be glad she’d read them. She was a little apprehensive, but maybe they would fill the gaps in her life she knew nothing about. There had obviously been a rift between her mother and grandmother; would the diaries explain how and why this occurred? She certainly hoped so. There was so much she wanted to know.
Cara read long into the night and the story of her mother began to unfold. Elizabeth Selby had met and begun a relationship with John Flowers. This was no dalliance, they planned to marry. However, some months before the wedding, Elizabeth realized she was pregnant. Much to everyone’s surprise, John stood by his obligations and the ceremony was brought forward. They had moved into an old cottage on the heath as John refused to move into The Laburnums with his ‘interfering’ mother-in-law. Elizabeth had refused any financial help from her mother, saying John would provide for his family himself… thank you very much! If Henrietta couldn’t support her choice of husband, then Elizabeth didn’t want the support of her mother’s money. The couple would manage to scratch out a living for themselves.
As Cara read, her emotions swung every which way. She felt sorrow that her mother had found herself pregnant outside of marriage; the stigma attached to that must have been unbearable. She felt happy that her father had owned his responsibility and married her mother. Cara was proud that John wished to be independent and provide for his own, but hurt that her grandmother had been seen as interfering. She read on.
The day Elizabeth’s pains had started she had staggered home to her mother and Cara was born with the help of Henrietta. John had arrived some time later very drunk. He took his wife and newborn child home immediately. Elizabeth could have her ‘laying in’ time at home he had said.
Henrietta Selby had been distraught at her daughter and granddaughter being moved so quickly after the birth. She despaired at them living in the hovel John called home.
As time passed, Elizabeth had struggled to manage on John’s carter’s wage, or what hadn’t been spent on beer, and Cara was suffering. Constantly ill, the child was not thriving and Henrietta had helped as much as she could unbeknown to John and much to Elizabeth’s not wanting help from her mother. When Cara turned two years old, she contracted influenza and Henrietta sent the doctor to the cottage to administer to the sick child. John Flowers had thrown the man out, saying the little girl had nothing more than a sniffling cold. Cara’s health deteriorated and Henrietta arrived to take on the temper of John. She told him his young daughter would die if she remained in that filthy hovel. Henrietta wanted to take Cara and Elizabeth home to The Laburnums in order to care for them both. John refused to allow his wife to leave but said if Henrietta took Cara now, she could keep her. Henrietta didn’t think twice, she bundled up the little girl and took her home, despite Elizabeth’s wailing. She hoped Elizabeth would soon follow; Elizabeth didn’t. Henrietta suspected John refused to allow Elizabeth to visit her, but she had no proof of this. His way of keeping Elizabeth close must have been to have her travel with him on his cart everywhere he went, for whenever Henrietta visited the cottage there was no sign of husband or wife.
Cara closed the diary with tears streaming down her face. Dousing the lamp, she lay in the darkness reflecting on what she’d read. So it seemed Cara had been the catalyst in the breakdown of the family. Her heart ached as she thought about the misery her mother and grandmother must have felt. John’s need for independence, his jealousy of the relationship his wife shared with her mother had caused him to abandon his child. How could a man be so heartless? Why had Elizabeth allowed it? However her mother had not abandoned her willingly it seemed. The thought gave her some comfort as she drifted off to sleep, the tears still wet on her cheeks.
*
Fred Tulley answered the telephone in his new office and was informed by Mr Dower, the Chairman of the Board, that a Matron had been appointed and he was to expect her arrival within the hour. He knew a Matron had to be appointed sooner or later as laid down in the Workhouse rulings. Replacing the earpiece on its cradle on the side of the telephone, he leaned back, wondering about the new employee. Would she be young and pretty? Would she be susceptible to his charms? Where would she sleep? Certainly not in his quarters with her not being his wife or sister. Closing his eyes, his mind wove pictures of a voluptuous young woman… with good teeth!
As Fred dreamed on about who would be joining him in his task in the Union Workhouse, he considered the circumstances. He knew jobs for Matrons were few and far between and he wondered why the new one was alone. Had her husband or brother died? If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really care. He had his position secured and that was all that mattered.
Fred’s eyes shot open as the office door flew open, and Ada Tulley strode into the room.
‘What the bloody hell…?’ Tulley gasped as he stared at his wife.
‘Hello to you an’ all,’ Ada grinned, showing her blackened teeth. ‘I’m the new Matron. Well now, aint this just grand!’
‘I ain’t having this!’ Fred snarled.
‘You ain’t got a choice!’ Ada laughed.
‘Christ! I don’t believe this!’ Tulley ran his hands through his hair.
‘Well you’d better because I’m here. Now then, once I’m settled in you can show me around.’ Ada puckered her lips and sent her husband air kisses.
Fred scowled and shuddered at the thought of having to share his life and bed with this woman again. As he stomped from the office, he thought, I should have killed her when I had the chance!
Ada Tulley followed behind her husband, cackling like an old witch.
*
The whole of Bilston was buzzing about the demolition of the old workhouse. The wealthier residents were reading about it in the newspapers over their breakfast tables; the poorer people were gossiping in the market and over garden fences. Whatever their social standing, the people of the town were delighted to be rid of the building once and for all; the horror of the place had never been far from people’s thoughts.
The freezing winds had dropped and the inclement weather had warmed a little as Cara travelled by her usual cab to visit her tenants. It seemed the cabbie had deemed himself responsible for transporting her to and from her appointments and visits, and was always on hand at the end of her driveway.
With everything in order and going well with the people she visited, the cab travelled on to Green Lanes. A group of onlookers whispered to each other as Cara alighted the cab. Smiling broadly at the gawkers, she walked gingerly across the muddy ground to the men piling up bricks. Pleased to see her, they updated her on the progress, which she could see for herself was well underway. At the rate it was going, she mused, the building would be reduced to rubble in no time. Then they could clear the land in readiness for the blocks of houses to be built.
Work ceased for a short period while Cara was given tea in a tin cup and chatted with the workers.
Happy with the work being undertaken, Cara climbed into the cab once more and set off for home. To her surprise Martin was waiting for her as she arrived.
Cara told him about her grandmother’s diaries over tea in the kitchen and shared the story of her mother and father.
Sitting around the fire later that evening, Daisy perched herself between Gracie and Molly on the sofa and Charlie occupied an easy chair. Cara sat in the other easy chair and Martin sat on the floor, leaning his back against her seat.
‘Won’t you read the diaries to us?’ Daisy asked with the innocence of youth.
‘Maybe one day, Daisy, but not now.’
‘Awww,’ Daisy moaned.
‘Why don’t you and Charlie play a game? Maybe if you ask nicely he’ll let you play with his soldiers.’ Cara was trying her best to distract Daisy’s attention from the diaries.
Later when Cara retired to bed, she began to read once more.
Cara is doing so well in school, I’m so proud of her. She was awarded a book as first prize in a writing competition. Christmas is looming and she is excited about Santa calling at the house.
Cara turned the pages carefully as she continued to read.
As school began after the holiday, Cara came down with a cold. Poor little mite, she is feeling thoroughly miserable. Still I have received no word from Elizabeth; I can only hope she is well.
In another diary.
It is devastating to have no word of or from my only daughter. How I miss her. God willing she will contact me one day. I visited her cottage again this afternoon, but there was no sign of life. I will continue my search for Elizabeth, but as time passes I am beginning to lose all hope.
On yet another page;
Yet another fruitless search, it is my contention Elizabeth must have moved away from the area altogether.
Written on the last page of the diary she was reading Cara drew in a breath as her eyes scanned the words.
I heard on the market grapevine today that John Flowers has died in a carting accident. I’m unsure when this occurred or even if it is true. I visited the cottage again – to no avail. It was empty. I’m thinking it’s time to give up my search and concentrate my energy on Cara. I have to give her my all now to ensure she grows into a fine young lady. It grieves me to abandon the search for Elizabeth, but I see no other choice. I’m so afraid she may have died in the accident too! My heart is broken!
Cara choked on those last words and felt the tears begin to rise.
As she closed the diary, the questions began to form in her mind. What had happened to Elizabeth after John’s death? Had she died too? If not, where had she gone? Where was she now? If she managed to find her mother, would she welcome Cara contacting her? Or would she be shunned? Did her grandma know about Charlie and Daisy, Cara suspected not as there’d been no mention of them.
Exhausted by it all, she lay back on her pillows and whispered, ‘I don’t know where to look for you, Elizabeth Flowers, but I will do my best. I won’t give up trying to find you.’