Dear Canada: Hoping for Home Read online

  For all who have forged a home in Canada

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Preface to Marooned in Canada

  Marooned in Canada by Kit Pearson

  Preface to Ghost Town

  Ghost Town by Shelley Tanaka

  Preface to To Get Away from All That

  To Get Away from All That by Rukhsana Khan

  Preface to The Flower of the Flock

  The Flower of the Flock by Irene N. Watts

  Preface to The Charleston at the Trapline

  The Charleston at the Trapline by Ruby Slipperjack

  Preface to Prairie Showdown

  Prairie Showdown by Paul Yee

  Preface to In the Silence of My Heart

  In the Silence of My Heart by Lillian Boraks-Nemetz

  Preface to Entrance Certificate

  Entrance Certificate by Brian Doyle

  Preface to To Learn … Even a Little

  To Learn … Even a Little by Afua Cooper

  Preface to Out of the Ashes

  Out of the Ashes by Marie-Andrée Clermont

  Preface to Hattie’s Home

  Hattie’s Home by Jean Little

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  Books in the Dear Canada Series

  Introduction

  Canada is a land of arrivals. For centuries, people have come to our shores hoping for freedom, or a better life, or a more promising future for their families. Immigrants from around the world have sailed here, trekked here, risked their lives to reach this land they hoped would be better, safer, more welcoming than the one they left behind. Most crossed the Atlantic or the Pacific and first set foot in Canada at ports like Halifax, Quebec City, Montreal, Vancouver. Some came by night along the Underground Railroad.

  In this anthology, we have war guests and home children and refugees seeking shelter; people of different races, nationalities and backgrounds longing for a new home. Some settle in easily. Others find unexpected challenges in this new land — more hardship than they had imagined, disappointment, even discrimination. They ask questions like “Am I safe here?” “How do I fit in?” “What does it mean to be Canadian?” For a few, the arrival is not so much about place as it is about reaching a realization or a decision. But all of them wish for one thing — the promise of a future that is brighter. All are hoping, in some way, for a place to call home.

  Sandra Bogart Johnston

  Editor, Dear Canada Series

  During World War II, hundreds of thousands of British children were sent to the countryside, away from those cities most at risk of being bombed during the Blitz. Thousands more young war guests were sent overseas through late 1939 up until the fall of 1940, to places like Canada and Australia, to keep them safe from the bombs and the fear of an invasion by Hitler.

  KIT PEARSON has written of these children before in her Guests of War Trilogy.

  Marooned in Canada

  The Diary of Verity Hall

  Sault Ste. Marie to Toronto

  September 1939 – August 1943

  2 September 1939

  Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario

  We’ve just about finished our tour and I’ve forgotten to write in this journal that Dad gave me when we left England.

  The truth is, I feel guilty for not doing what Dad expected me to — to record every day, so I’d always remember my first trip to Canada. He said that he wouldn’t read my journal, but I know he’ll ask me if I kept it up. So here’s what I’ll do: I’ll sum up the whole trip so far, then I can tell him truthfully that I did write. That way I can live up to my name. Dad often reminds me that Verity means “truth.” That’s why I pride myself on being honest.

  We’ve been travelling by steamer on Lake Superior, but tonight we’re docked in Sault Ste. Marie. All the other girls have gone out for dinner, but I’ve told them I have an upset stomach. I’m lying on my bunk in the tiny room I’m sharing with Jane.

  I can tell that Jane is rather fed up with me. Before she left, she suggested in her too-kind, older-sister way, that perhaps my stomach ailment is imaginary. That’s because I’ve used this excuse before.

  She is right, although I’ll never admit it to her. My stomach is fine, but I’m so tired of this huge, noisy group of girls that I need an evening to myself.

  Jane thinks I’m spoilt, too. She says I always get my own way, but I don’t! I didn’t want to come to Canada! If Jane weren’t too good to be true, she’d see it my way.

  Next month Jane will go to Cambridge to take medicine and become a doctor and help people. (It’s hard to have a perfectly brilliant as well as a perfectly good sister.) I knew how terribly proud Mummy and Dad were of her, even before they gave her this tour of Canada as a present for all the hard work she’s done.

  Then they found out they had to spend all of August in France. They thought I would be bored there — I wouldn’t! — so they persuaded the organizers of the tour to let me come along, even though I’m only thirteen and the rest of the girls are fifteen and up.

  I tried to protest, but when Mummy sets her mind on something, one can’t win. Dad understood how reluctant I was. I think that’s why he gave me this journal; he thought that if I wrote down my impressions of Canada I’d appreciate it more.

  I’ve gone off track, so I’ll get back to the summary of our trip. Our party of seventy schoolgirls and six form mistresses left England in early August on the Empress of Britain. We arrived in Quebec City, where everyone spoke French (but didn’t understand us when we spoke the French we learned in school). Then we went on a long train journey to Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto, Winnipeg, Regina, Calgary and Vancouver, and then by ferry to Victoria. Then we came all the way back to Fort William, then we got on this steamer. I should write more about all those places, but they’re such a blur.

  In a few cities some of the girls gave cricket demonstrations. Jane wasn’t a player, but sometimes she had to put on her school tunic and keep score. I was considered too young to play, even though I’m excellent at cricket.

  The girls are from different schools all over England. No one else is from my school, of course, because it only goes up to my age. Only one girl, Imogen, is from Roedean, Jane’s old school, but Jane has quickly made many friends and is very popular (of course). Some of her friends make a fuss over me, but they treat me like an infant. Two of the younger girls, Marjorie and Barbara, have tried to befriend me, but I don’t care for them.

  What I want is my real friends! Lucy and Mary and I were to spend the summer together before we all went off to boarding school: Mary to Cheltenham, and Lucy and I to Roedean. I’ve written them many postcards, but that makes me miss them even more.

  Ever since we left England, I’ve had to nod and smile and tell everyone we meet how much I like Canada. I don’t! Yes, the people have been immensely friendly, but the land is too vast and wild. I miss Devon’s green fields and hedges, our neat villages and small shops. Canada frightens me.

  I’ve had to stop complaining to Jane because she gets so disappointed with me. She keeps telling me to think of what I do like, so I’ll list those things here. I like corn on the cob and maple syrup. I liked seeing cowboys on horses in Calgary. I liked some of the luxurious houses we stayed in when we stopped somewhere for a few days, and I like how everyone treats us like royalty. And I did get a great deal of pleasure from bathing in the clear Canadian lakes and paddling a canoe for the first time. One day on Lake of the Woods, when the son of our host family took Marjorie and me fishing, I caught a bass! We had it for supper and it was delicious.

  There. That’s as honest a summary of my
trip as I can make. Everything will be fine from now on, because on Monday we go back to Toronto, then to Montreal, and then we sail home! I can’t wait!

  3 September 1939

  Owen Sound, Ontario

  A terrible thing has happened — England is at war! One of the mistresses announced it to us before breakfast. Everyone gasped and I began to cry, but Jane shushed me.

  The voices around me reached such a high pitch that I couldn’t bear it. As soon as we were free, Jane took me off the boat for a walk before we sailed.

  We heard the sound of a radio from an open window. Jane froze and told me it was Chamberlain’s voice. We listened as our prime minister announced that Britain is now at war with Germany. After I heard his voice I realized it really was the truth.

  We are at war.

  I clutched my stomach and told Jane I felt ill. This time I really did. Jane took me back to the boat and tucked me into my bunk. I stayed there until we reached Owen Sound.

  Here is what war means: We may not be able to go back home.

  4 September 1939

  Toronto, Ontario

  WE ARE MAROONED IN CANADA! We can’t return to England, at least not yet. It’s too dangerous to sail until a convoy can be arranged — other ships to protect our ship. That might not happen for ten days or even a month!

  I don’t remember much about the train journey from Owen Sound to Toronto. Now we’re staying at the university here. I’m trying to be as brave as Jane and the others. But how can I endure being away from home for ten more days?

  Later

  I can hardly write this, my hand is shaking so. A few hours ago Jane came into our room. She looked so pale and frightened — frightened of what she had to tell me. My first thought was that something had happened at home, that the bombs had already started and that Mummy and Dad were dead.

  Her news was almost as bad. Most of the girls will return to England in about a month, when a convoy can be found. But Jane and I will not return! Our parents have cabled to say that we will be safer if we stay in Canada until the war is over.

  “How long?” I managed to ask.

  “It’s sure to be over by Christmas,” Jane said. “That’s what all the adults say.”

  “Christmas! That’s four months away!” I cried. I sobbed wildly and Jane let me. She held my shoulders and to my amazement she cried a little as well. She told me how much she hated the idea of staying, how she wanted to get home and help with the war.

  But then she became her impossibly perfect self. I am to be brave and sensible, to remember how I’ve been brought up and to behave as Mummy and Dad would expect me to.

  Here is what will happen to us. Mummy has got hold of friends who live in Toronto, the Browns. They’ve agreed to take charge of us. Jane will live with them and attend the University of Toronto. I’ll come to them on Saturdays, but the rest of the week I’m to board at a local school called Bishop something.

  I protested violently, but Jane says I have no choice. Mummy thinks I should be at boarding school as planned, and that it would be too much to ask of the Browns to have me living there all the time. Jane assured me we would constantly be in touch.

  I cannot believe they would do this to us. I’m sure it was all Mummy’s idea — Dad would want me with him.

  Jane has gone to dinner but I refuse to eat. I’ve cried so much my eyes are raw.

  8 September 1939

  I feel so numb that all I can do is write down the facts. We’re now at the Browns’. Mrs. Brown came to fetch us. She’s very kind and so is her husband. Their children are grown up, so they have lots of room in their large house. I have my own bedroom for when I’m not at school. They have a standard poodle called Piper who sleeps with me.

  Everyone else in Toronto is as welcoming as the Browns. Our group has been taken to the “Ex” (that’s the Exhibition), to see The Wizard of Oz, and to a reception at the lieutenant governor’s.

  Jane has been accepted at the University of Toronto to study science. Some of the other older girls are also attending the university. The rest are being taken in by various girls’ schools here. Thirty of them will be at The Bishop Strachan School, which I will begin on Tuesday. The form mistresses who travelled with us, however, are trying to get a ship from New York so they can get back to their schools. That’s so unfair! Why should they be allowed to go back to England and not us?

  All the adults talk about is the war. A ship sailing from Britain to Canada, the Athenia, has been torpedoed by the Germans and many people have been drowned. Mrs. Brown says this proves how right we were not to have tried to go back, but that doesn’t make me feel better. Mr. Brown thinks that soon Canada will join the war as well.

  He asked us how ready England was for a war. Jane told him how we all had gas masks and many had made blackout curtains.

  I hated my gas mask. It had a horrid smell and made me want to gag. A year ago we almost thought there would be a war, but then Chamberlain made a pact with Germany and everyone relaxed. After that I didn’t worry about war; I just wanted to have larks with my friends. And of course Mummy and Dad would not have sent us here if they thought the war would happen. Grandfather often said there would never be a war because Hitler didn’t have it in him.

  How wrong we all were!

  Like everyone else I am smiling and grateful, constantly thanking everyone for being so kind. Inside, I want to scream. I don’t like being in a room all by myself. I clutch Piper and stare into the darkness. We haven’t heard a word from home except for the cable. Are Mummy and Dad and Grandfather and Grannie and Lucy and Mary all right? Will Dad have to fight? I hate feeling so helpless.

  11 September 1939

  Canada has now joined the war against Germany. Everyone is still talking about the Athenia and waiting for news of survivors.

  Since we only have the summer clothes we came with, Mrs. Brown found some old clothes of her daughter’s that fit Jane, but they’re too big for me. So today Mrs. Brown took me shopping. I pretended to take interest in the jerseys and skirts she bought me, but I don’t care about them. She had Jane’s tunics made smaller for me. I am to wear them at my new school.

  12 September 1939

  Here I am at BSS (that’s what they call The Bishop Strachan School). It’s a large stone building with a tower. So far, I dislike it intensely.

  I’m the only English girl in the Middle School. There are three other girls in my room: Mollie, Kay and Sheila. We’re all in Form IV-A. Mollie is the leader. Kay giggles too much and Sheila is a mouse.

  They ask far too many questions and expect me to entertain them, as if I were a performing animal. Kay keeps commenting on my “lovely accent” and Sheila keeps asking me to translate different words — “jersey” instead of “sweater,” or “frock” instead of “dress” — as if I spoke a different language! I answer as briefly as possible.

  Now that I’m not with Jane and the Browns, I no longer feel obligated to be grateful and polite. I heard Mollie tell Kay that I was shy and that they should be especially kind to me.

  I’ve never been shy. I just don’t wish to associate with them. They’re ignorant colonial girls and I wish they would leave me alone!

  The headmistress and the matron are also suffocating me with kindness. I hate feeling so obligated. None of us has any money and it’s impossible for our parents to send us any. The university is paying Jane’s fees; they told her it was their “war effort.” Dad will have to pay back BSS after the war.

  Oh, my dear old Dad, when will I hear from you?

  15 September 1939

  Everything is still horrid. I sleep on a narrow cot that sags in the middle. The food is appalling, except for the ice cream with maple syrup and walnuts we had on Wednesday. The classes and sports are easy enough, except they don’t play netball here, they play “basketball” instead.

  There are so many students compared to my little school in Exeter. We English are a motley group in our different-coloured tunics. The BSS girls d
on’t wear tunics. They wear white middy blouses with navy collars and navy pleated skirts. Since I’m the only English girl in my class, I stand out especially in my navy tunic. I’m proud to wear it, because it’s the Roedean uniform and that’s where I should be instead of at a Canadian school!

  I’m continuing to speak as little as possible to everyone. I don’t ask questions in class and I only answer when I have to. Everyone is still unbearably kind. Jane has asked Imogen to look out for me. Jane herself has telephoned every evening, and this Saturday I’ll go to the Browns’ and see her again.

  We had another cable from home. All it said was, Hope you are settling in nicely, keep your spirits up. Jane says the mail will take a long time, but I ache to hear from Dad, especially. I’ve already written him three long letters pleading to come home.

  18 September 1939

  It was a relief to have a break from prison and go to the Browns’ — to eat good food and to see Jane. But she is so cheerful, it only made my mood darker. She really likes her classes and she’s already made friends. I lied to her and said I had too, because I don’t want her to know how aloof I’ve been. I could only stay until nine and next week I can’t come, because the boarders are only allowed out every second week.

  20 September 1939

  Every day after our noon meal we have a break in our rooms before games. Today as usual the others were asking me questions about home. I will confess here that I let down my name and told them a huge lie.

  I said that I was related to the Queen — that she’s my mother’s cousin! I made up outrageous things about going to tea at Buckingham Palace, about riding Princess Elizabeth’s horse and listening to Princess Margaret playing the piano.