‘Now you’ve bought it, what the bloody hell you gonna do with it?’ Gracie asked.
‘Well…’ Cara began. ‘Well…’
‘You ain’t got a clue have you? I knew it!’ Gracie went about her business in the kitchen still muttering. ‘You get these mad ideas and act on them before you think it through to the end! That damn great hulking building…’
Just then Sam and Molly walked into the room. Molly had been adamant she did not want to leave The Laburnums after her wedding and so Cara had obliged by offering the newlyweds her grandmother’s bedroom. It was the largest in the house and the couple had accepted gladly.
Gracie continued, ‘Sam, you tell her. She’s got a massive monstrosity of a property and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it!’
All eyes went to Sam and he smiled uncertainly. ‘Are you thinking about work for the men when “Flowers’ Fields” is finished?’
‘When what is finished?’ Cara asked.
‘Sorry, but the old workhouse site appears to have acquired a new name. It is now known as “Flowers’ Fields”, like the old cottages became “Cara’s Cottages”. You have to admit it has a nicer ring to it than the “Spike”,’ Sam explained.
‘Oh that’s a bloody lovely name, that is!’ Gracie wiped a tear on her apron as titters sounded.
‘Well, when the work is finished the men will be out of work, am I right?’ He saw Cara’s nod. ‘All those men have one trade or another, builders, carpenters, cobblers… there’s even a couple of tailors too who’ve been doing the labouring.’
Cara saw where Sam was heading and said, ‘So some could train others in different professions… if we divided the building up into small workshops…!’
Sam nodded and said, ‘They could rent them from you.’
Applause sounded at the idea and chatter began around how to get started.
*
Bill Rowley, the architect for ‘Flowers’ Fields’ was on site at the new housing development and although he didn’t need to be there, he always wanted to see his drawings come to life. He had put down on paper what now stood before him in the form of housing for the poor, and even after many years in his chosen profession, he marvelled at the finished constructions. It still excited him that what he drew on blank paper could be viewed, interpreted and constructed by competent builders. He had seen men move into the properties no sooner than they were finished. He had watched as friends and neighbours as well as Cara had contributed to fixtures and fittings. He was amazed at how the men who once had nothing, not even a hope of a better life, rallied together and erected the buildings that now stood on the old workhouse site. The name of the development had been burnt into a huge plank of wood, and the sign – ‘Flowers’ Fields’ now stood proudly at the beginning of the cart track which ran around the perimeter of the houses.
It was the whistles and calls that drew his attention to the young woman who stepped from the cab that had come to a standstill close by. Cara waved to the men who had shouted their greetings as she walked over to Bill. All eyes watched as she handed the architect a large rolled up paper. Unrolling it, Bill looked it over and nodded, a huge grin on his face. Whatever Cara Flowers was up to now, it seemed Bill Rowley was in agreement.
Cara waved a goodbye and climbed into the cab once more. As it rolled away, everyone was wondering what challenge she had set herself this time. Everyone except Bill Rowley. The rolled paper tucked under his arm he walked towards his horse and, climbing into the saddle, he set off for home. He had another job to do for the enchanting Miss Flowers.
As the cab rumbled along, Cara’s thoughts drifted to Liza Townsend. She had not been to see the woman since her release from the asylum. Cara felt bad that she’d been too busy and only now had thought about it. She made a mental reminder to pay a visit to Bertha soon, and hopefully then she would be able to meet Liza.
*
Bertha Jenkins and Liza Townsend were getting on like a house on fire, and with the former working at the school, the latter took over the cooking and cleaning in the house they shared.
Bertha was readying herself for work one morning when Liza said, ‘I believe there’s a property vacant over on “Flowers’ Fields”.’
Liza Townsend’s eyes held a sadness as they met Bertha’s. ‘I suppose I should investigate the possibility.’
Bertha felt the words pull at her heartstrings. Sitting at the table where Liza was reading the newspaper, she said, ‘Let me put this plainly… and I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, wench, but… you ain’t got any work, so paying rent will be a problem. Also, you don’t know any of the folk there, and it’s my thinking you’ll find it lonely. So, here’s what I thought. Why don’t you stay here with me?’
‘Bertha, you’ve been so very kind to me allowing me to share your house and not asking bed and board. I can’t impose on you further…’
Liza’s words were cut short by a blustering Bertha. ‘Impose, my arse! You ain’t imposing on me! We get on well together, and God knows I need the company as much as you do. As for rent… you cook and clean, and I appreciate that more than money. So what do you say, will you stay?’
Liza nodded. Both standing, they gave each other a hug, the first either had enjoyed in a very long time. It sealed their friendship tight.
Bertha left for work and Liza resumed her reading of the newspaper. She was keeping her eye out for any work to be had, but there was something else she was looking for.
Finding the article, Liza smiled as she began to read avidly. Fred Tulley’s trial.
With no evidence or witnesses to prove his innocence, Mr Frederick Tulley was jailed for the murder of his wife, Ada Tulley.
Liza lifted her eyes from the newsprint and stared into the flames of the fire.
Liza still harboured doubts about what she’d done knowing it would be jail time for her if anyone discovered the truth. A picture of her little girl sprang up in her mind. These two people had robbed her of a life with her daughter. Knowing it was terribly wrong what she did, she still felt justified in her actions. The woman responsible for her child’s death was now six feet under, and the man who had not prevented it was rotting in a jail cell and would be there for the remainder of his life. Revenge was sweet, and Liza was going to enjoy its flavour.
Now that justice had been done, Liza felt she could finally move on to what mattered to her most: her daughter. Putting aside the paper, she made her way out of the house. Walking into the Funeral Director’s office, Liza made her request. Could he tell her where her daughter had been buried?
Jack Grindall said, ‘I can do more than that, Mrs Townsend, I can show you.’ Grabbing his hat and coat, he led her from the office.
As they walked down the street to the little churchyard, Liza said, ‘Mr Grindall, I appreciate what you did for my Phoebe.’
‘Mrs Townsend, you are very welcome. It fair broke my heart that day in the “Spike” seeing you in that state.’
Liza nodded as she recalled the last time she saw her little girl, and she felt the ache in her heart once more.
Grindall went on, ‘I did the best I could for her, you know, she had a pauper’s grave.’ He saw Liza nod in acceptance as they continued to walk. ‘Well, there were no mourners and as I knew you couldn’t be there either, I said a little prayer over her.’
‘Thank you, Mr Grindall, that was a very kind thing to do. Phoebe would have appreciated that, as I do.’
Coming to the paupers’ area of the burial ground, Grindall led Liza to a small grass mound, the place he had laid the child to rest. As they both stared down at the spot, he heard again in his mind the screams of the woman now standing beside him. A chill ran down his spine as he thought then of his own five daughters and how he would feel if he lost any one of them.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he whispered, ‘Stay as long as you want, wench, and come back any time.’
Turning, he walked away with a heavy heart.
Clutching a handful of wild flowers from nearby, Liza knelt by the grassy mound. Laying the flowers on the grass, she stared with unseeing eyes. Silent tears rolled down her face as she lay down by the grave with no marker. Phoebe’s gaunt little face appeared in her mind as she relived the memory of their entrance into the workhouse.
Liza had tried desperately to feed herself and her child. They had wandered the streets with no money and no home until eventually she had accepted the ticket from the Relieving Officer. She saw again Phoebe’s calm acceptance of being separated from her mother, no kicking and screaming like other children in the same situation. It was this calm acceptance that had chilled Liza to the bone. Phoebe had known her mother could no longer care for or protect her. In that moment, the last look they shared, Liza saw her six-year-old turn into a young woman way before her time.
Silent tears became heart-rending sobs as Liza lay by the daughter she would never see again. The sobs racked her body and her shoulders heaved as she grasped hands full of grass. Drawing in a lungful of air, the wail that came from her soul seemed to last forever. Liza lay by her daughter’s grave all day and only moved when her tears slowly subsided and darkness crept around her.
Kissing the grassy mound, Liza stood and stretched the stiffness from her body. Blowing a last kiss to the flowers on the grass, Liza turned and walked away. She had said her last goodbye.
*
Bill Rowley had visited Cara’s new acquisition in Broad Street, and now at home with the original drawings spread out on his dining table he scanned them carefully. Cara had told him of her plans for the building and it was his job to turn the massive old structure into light airy units. Each unit would house a different trade and once he had a list of these trades he would have a better idea of where each could be placed.
The dividing up of the structure would prove more challenging to him than drawing up plans from scratch and he relished the task set before him. Dragging a blank sheet of paper over the originals, he began to plan section by section, constantly referring to the original for measurements. He noted the situation of doors and windows, and before long his ideas began to take shape. He envisioned dividing walls in place with doorways leading from one room to the next. Archways rather than doors to the inner rooms where they could steal daylight from the outer rooms. Large mirrors strategically placed would bounce the light to reach into corners. For trades that might need plenty of air, doors that could open top or bottom… similar to stable doors.
As the plans took shape in his mind they were transferred to his drawings. Removing his small round spectacles, Bill rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired and his eyes ached but his ideas had him firmly in their grip. Replacing his spectacles, Bill grabbed his pencil and with renewed vigour returned to his sketches.
*
Sam Yale and Wally Webb, Cara’s foremen, were tasked with taking the names and original trades of each man in Cara’s employ. The young woman was astonished when told how many men she had working for her. Sitting in the parlour with the foremen, Gracie, Molly, Charlie and Daisy, she scanned the lists given to her. Gardeners, roofers, plumbers, painters and decorators, builders, boot makers, tailors, carpenters, cabinet makers, locksmiths, tilers… the list seemed endless.
‘Bill Rowley is drawing up new plans for the building in Broad Street,’ Cara said, ‘so he will know where to place each set of tradesmen. What we have to decide upon now is how to get these men set up in their respective trades.’
‘You can’t be thinking of spending more money, Cara, surely to God!’ Gracie was horrified.
Shaking her head and with a smile, Cara answered, ‘What I propose to do is this… and I’d like your opinions, I thought to loan each trade a capital sum to outfit their workshop. It would then be up to them to draw in custom so they are able to pay rent for their premises. Naturally, there is nowhere near enough room for each man to have his own workshop, so they will have to form co-operatives, as the women did with the baking stall in the market. Once the workshops are set to trade, I will give them one month rent-free. After that I will expect rent to be paid at the end of each month and on time. Sam and Wally as my foremen will collect the rent and keep a careful tally… that is, of course, if you are both willing?’
Both men nodded.
Gracie spoke again, ‘What if they can’t pay? What if they don’t get the custom?’
‘It will be up to them, Gracie, to ensure they do. Once the… building… is up and running I will ask the newspaper to write an article regarding the men’s achievements. I will place an advertisement outlining what is on offer there. Hopefully that will bring in some custom at the outset.’
With everyone’s agreement, Cara said they would meet again with Bill Rowley when his drawings were complete.
When everyone left to go about their business, Charlie remained behind with Cara.
‘What is it, Charlie?’ She asked.
‘I’m fifteen now, Cara, and I…’ Cara nodded, urging him to continue, but Charlie faltered.
‘You want a proper job? Not just labouring with the men?’ She asked. His nod gave her the answer. ‘All right, brother, have a think about what you’d like to do and we’ll see if we can make it happen.’ Cara smiled at the young man.
‘I want to be an architect like Bill Rowley,’ Charlie said simply.
‘I will ask him if he will take you on as an apprentice, how would that be for you?’ Cara asked.
‘Yes please!’ Charlie was overjoyed at the prospect. ‘I promise to learn all I can and show you how good I can be!’
Daisy jumped up at his enthusiasm saying, ‘I want to be a baker. Gracie shows me all the time what to do so I can have my own bakery one day.’
‘That would be marvelous Daisy,’ Cara encouraged. ‘What will you sell?’
‘Cakes, bread…cakes,’ Daisy was thinking hard.
‘You said that already,’ Charlie interrupted.
Daisy harrumphed and cast him a frown.
Cara said quickly to dispel any forthcoming argument, ‘What about muffins and pikelets? Will you bake and sell those too?’
‘Yes!’ Daisy said as if she’d thought of it herself. ‘See Charlie Flowers, you don’t know everything!’
Cara wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and beckoned to her younger sister to join them. Wrapping her other arm around Daisy she whispered to them both. ‘I love you two very much, and I know you will both be very successful.’