The Sky is Falling

by Kit Pearson

  “Don’t they speak English in Canada?” Norah asked Margery nervously. What would it be like to live with a new family she didn’t understand?

  Margery looked bewildered but Miss Montague-Scott assured them that, although Canada had two languages, most of the people in Ontario spoke English. “The children who will be living in Montreal are lucky,” she added in her school-teacher tone. “Some of them will probably learn French.” But Norah thought it was going to be difficult enough to adjust in her own language.

  The ship continued through the dusk to Montreal. That evening there was an excited atmosphere aboard. They had a special banquet, and the escorts led the children in a chorus of “For they are jolly good fellows.” The captain stood up and told them what good sailors they’d been.

  They were allowed to open the darkened portholes for the first time, and all the ship’s lights streamed out into the darkness. “You’re safe now,” laughed Miss Montague-Scott. “There’s no need for a black-out any more.” She had come in to help their cabin pack. “Make sure you have all your papers ready. We’ll be in Montreal in an hour and will stay there for the night. Then I’ll have to leave you—someone else will be in charge.”

  “Where will you go?” asked Norah. Miss Montague-Scott already seemed to be an established part of their lives.

  “Back to Britain and, I hope, back here again with another load of evacuees,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s hope I can conquer my seasickness next time! Now, Gavin, can’t you take off that dreadful hat? You’ll get some kind of skin disease, you’ve worn it so long.” She pulled at his balaclava.

  “No!” wailed Gavin, pressing his hands to his head.

  Miss Montague-Scott sighed. “You’ll have to find a way to get it off him, Norah. It’s not healthy.”

  Norah didn’t have time to worry about it. It was hard enough getting Gavin to leave Mrs. Pym the next morning. She gripped his hand tightly when he started to run after her. “I’m your sister!” she hissed. “She’s not even related to you. You have to stay with me, so do what I say.”

  The timeless peace of the voyage was over; now everything was confusing and difficult again, the way it had been in Liverpool. Baggage was piled everywhere. All morning they lined up on board the hot ship, until their landing cards were checked and their passports stamped. Then they waited again, in the observation room, where at least they could sit down. Some journalists came on board to take their pictures.

  “Isn’t this exciting, Norah?” said Dulcie. “It’s as if we were famous!” Her voice had an hysterical edge to it and there was an ugly rash all around her mouth from constantly licking her lips. A reporter came up to them and Dulcie began telling him about the ‘Thumbs Up Club’.”

  Finally they were allowed to walk down a covered gangway. A large crowd clapped and cheered, throwing them sweets and chewing gum. Then their papers were checked again by customs officers with soft accents. “What a brave little girl, to travel all the way from England by yourself!” said the man helping Norah. He spoke as if she were Gavin’s age.

  “Over here, Norah!” called Dulcie. Norah frowned. Dulcie was getting much too bossy.

  The Ontario group was moved towards a bus that was to go to the Montreal train station. Norah peered through the noisy crowd for Jamie and spotted him in another line, too far away to call to. But she’d never see him again, anyway; what was the use in saying goodbye?

  Mrs. Pym hurried up and gave Gavin a last kiss. “You do what your big sister says,” she told him. “Cheerio, Norah, and the best of luck to both of you.” She looked as if she felt sorry for them; Norah thrust out her hand quickly so Mrs. Pym wouldn’t kiss her as well.

  She dragged her brother onto the bus before he had time to whimper. The bus pulled away from both Mrs. Pym and Jamie, leaving Norah and Gavin alone with each other once again.

  THE MONTREAL TRAIN STATION was a vast, clean hall with a slippery marble floor; the enormous space echoed with voices. Margery pointed to the ceiling. “There’s the Canadian flag,” she said knowingly. Norah gazed at the tiny Union Jack lost in a sea of red. It was like England now—small and far away.

  The train to Toronto was different from British trains: there were no compartments and all the seats faced the same way. Norah and Gavin sat across the aisle from a stout man with a checked hat. He seemed very curious about them.

  “All the way from England, eh? How old are you? Did you get bombed yet? Where’s your village?”

  He asked so many questions that Norah wondered if he were a spy. “I can’t say,” she said loudly, the way their headmaster had told them to answer suspicious strangers. She stared so hard at him that he got up and moved to another seat.

  Seventy children from the ship were going to Toronto. There were new women in charge and one of them went up and down the carriage, passing out coloured armbands. Norah’s was blue and Gavin’s green. She supposed they signified their ages.

  “Will we be staying with our new families tonight?” Norah asked her.

  “Oh, no, dear. You’ll be put into residences at the university for a while, until we get you vetted.”

  “Vetted?”

  The woman laughed. “Just checking you over to make sure you’re healthy. Then your hosts will come and pick you up. Don’t worry, we have lots of fun planned. Singalongs and games and movies and swimming.”

  Norah sighed … more singing.

  “My sisters and I won’t have to go there, will we?” asked Derek behind her. “We know who we’re living with.”

  “That’s nice, dear, but you still have to stay at the university at first. Regulations, I’m afraid.”

  Norah was glad; the Smiths needed to be taken down a peg.

  Gavin had fallen asleep. He twitched awake when the train drew to a stop. It was already dusk—where had this blurry day gone? Many of the children had dozed and someone had pulled down the blinds to keep out the rays of the setting sun.

  Now one of the adults pushed up the blind beside them. “There you are! Welcome to Toronto!”

  Lights blazed outside the window, some in beautiful flashing colours. Norah gaped, amazed.

  Gavin took one look and screamed. “Turn out the lights, turn out the lights!”

  “It’s all right, Gavin!” Norah pushed him back into his seat. “Remember what Miss Montague-Scott said? There’s no black-out here. There’s no war. We’re in Canada, now, not England.”

  She choked on the last words. Now what would happen? Gathering up their things wearily, she got up to leave the train.

  8

  Guests of War

  At Union Station another set of adults conducted them off the train and asked them to line up two by two. They were led into a large waiting room where a man gave orders.

  “Welcome to Toronto, children!” He made the name sound like “Trawna.” “We want each of you to look at the colour of your armband and line up behind the leader with that colour.”

  He didn’t need to shout; the whole group was tired and subdued. Norah looked around for the adult wearing a blue armband. Then she remembered that Gavin had a different colour. Her brother clung to her dress, his grimy face spotted with tear marks.

  “Please …” she entreated an adult. “My little brother’s supposed to go with the green group, but he has to stay with me.”

  The woman looked worried. “Oh, but he’s supposed to go with the boys. You can visit him later.” She gently loosened Gavin’s fingers and led him away. He looked back over his shoulder at Norah, his eyes brimming.

  “I’ll see you later, Gavin!” called Norah. If only Mrs. Pym were still here.

  “He’ll be all right, Norah,” said Dulcie. Norah felt almost envious of her. She never seemed to have any problems with Lucy, but Lucy was far more confident than her big sister. And they both had Derek to look after them, even if he was usually lost behind a book.

  That morning Dulcie had dressed Lucy and herself in their pink dresses, which she’d hung up and kept
clean for the whole journey. Norah’s dress was stained with food and her feet were moist and gritty inside her socks.

  “Come along, Blues.” The group of girls followed their leader out of the station to a waiting bus decorated with a blue pennant.

  Just as in Montreal, a crowd across the street began to applaud. They strained against a rope as they called out greetings. “Welcome to Canada!” “Rule Britannia!” “Look at them, aren’t they sweet?” As the blue group came closer, a sigh rose in the crowd. A woman near Norah said, “Do you see those two? The ones in matching pink dresses and hats? They look just like the Princesses!” Lucy smiled and waved as if they were.

  The bus ride was short and soon they were unloaded at an old stone building the adults called Hart House. It was like a church inside, with dark ceiling beams and high windows of coloured glass.

  Gavin rushed up from a group of boys. “You went away,” he sniffed. His nose was running disgustingly.

  Norah tried to mop it with the corner of her dress; she had lost her handkerchief long ago.

  A jovial man led Gavin back to his group. “Come along, youngster, you’re eating with the big fellows!” Norah lost sight of him as they were taken into a vast dining room called the Great Hall. It had large golden letters painted around its walls.

  Supper was boiled chicken and mushy cauliflower. By the time dessert arrived, some of the children had begun to revive. They called to one another down the long tables and bolted their ice cream. But Norah wasn’t hungry.

  Immediately after supper the girls were taken into a gymnasium where they had to stand in their vests and knickers while women doctors checked their throats, ears and chests. “We need to put some flesh on you,” the doctor told Norah. She felt insulted—hadn’t she eaten a lot on the ship? She’d always been small for her age, but no one had ever made a fuss about it before.

  While she got dressed again, she heard the doctor tell the little girl behind her that she had a cold and would have to go straight to the infirmary. “But I want to stay with my sister,” the child wailed.

  A nurse opened the door and hurried across the room. “Is Norah Stoakes here?”

  Norah waved her arm. “Can you come and stop your brother from crying?” the nurse asked her. “He’s having hysterics because we took off his hat, poor little tyke.”

  Gavin’s screams filled the corridor. He was outside the other gymnasium, thrashing and kicking on the floor. “I want my s-sister!” he blubbered.

  Norah wasn’t at all sure she wanted him. His cheeks were smeared with dirt and mucus and his fair hair looked dark where the balaclava had covered it. What would Mum do? She was suddenly furious that her mother wasn’t there to cope.

  “Shut up, Gavin!” She shook him so hard that his head wobbled.

  The nurse looked shocked and reached out to stop her. “Don’t be so rough, Norah! That’s no way to treat your little brother!”

  As Gavin’s cries turned into hiccups, Norah whirled around and faced the woman. “You asked me to stop him, and I did! It’s your fault he was crying, anyway—you shouldn’t have taken his hat off! Didn’t you realize that would upset him?”

  The nurse looked indignant. “We had to take it off—it was filthy! We’ve thrown it away and now he’ll have to have his hair washed thoroughly. You look as if you could do with a bath too, Miss—come with me. And I think you’re forgetting your manners. In Canada, children don’t speak like that to their elders.”

  She led them outside and across the grass to another building, where there was a row of bathtubs. Norah lay dazed in the soothing hot water, listening to Gavin having his hair shampooed in the next cubicle. He had turned silent again.

  “Do I have to bathe you as well?” grumbled the nurse, coming in to check on her. “Imagine, a girl of your age who can’t wash herself!” She did Norah’s hair and scrubbed her all over with a rough flannel. Then she handed her a kind of gown to put on.

  “Now say good-night to your brother,” she ordered. “I’ll take him to his room and come back for you. Yours is in a different building.”

  A stubborn voice forced itself up through Norah’s exhaustion. “No.”

  “What did you say?”

  “He has to stay with me.”

  “Don’t be difficult, Norah. You can see him all you want during the day, but the boys and the girls are sleeping in separate residences.”

  “No,” said Norah again. Part of her wondered why she was being so insistent; she didn’t really want the care of Gavin. But he looked so pathetic with his wet hair skinned back and dark circles under his eyes. She tried to forget about how her hands had made his thin neck bend like the stem of a flower.

  The nurse stared at her for a few seconds, then gave up. “Stay here,” she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. But you’re upsetting our system.”

  In ten minutes Norah got her way. The nurse returned and took them both to a building called Falconer House, to a room with four beds in it. Norah’s luggage was already there and a boy arrived with Gavin’s just as they did. The beds were labelled and Norah noticed that the others belonged to Goosey and Loosey.

  “I have to go, but someone will check on you in a few minutes,” said the nurse. Her voice was kinder now, but Norah was too tired to answer her.

  “Get into bed,” she told Gavin after the nurse had left. He obeyed mutely, curling into a tight ball. Norah tucked the blanket around him. She felt the mattress and was relieved to find a rubber sheet.

  She buried herself in her own stiff, clean sheets. She was so worn out, she scarcely heard the Smiths when they came in a few minutes later.

  THEY STAYED at the university for a week. Everyone was very kind and welcoming, but Norah began to feel she was in prison. The campus grounds were spacious and she longed to run on her own under the large trees or cross the busy street, where the cars drove on the wrong side. The bustling city surrounding the university seemed as big and exciting as London. But Boy Scouts stood on guard all day outside Hart House, where the children ate and played. “They’re to keep away curious strangers,” the adults said, but Norah thought they were to keep them in.

  The only time the children left the campus was for a visit to a hospital, where each of them was examined in much more detail than in either Hart House or Liverpool. Norah had to take off all her clothes while a doctor checked every inch of her body, from her hair to her toes, including the embarrassing parts in the middle. She was X-rayed, her knees were hammered and a blood sample was taken from her finger. Then she was given several injections and pushed and prodded until her body didn’t seem to belong to her any more. Canadians seemed to think that British children carried some dreadful disease.

  Another doctor asked her questions: what her parents were like, who her friends were at home, and what she liked to do best. It was so painful to talk about home that Norah answered him in short, clipped sentences. When he asked her in his kind voice how she felt about being evacuated, she just mumbled “Fine” to keep from crying. “I guess you’re a shy one,” said the doctor. “You’ll soon feel more talkative in your new family.”

  Once more, Gavin was taken off her hands. Now he trailed after Miss Carmichael, who looked after their dormitory and, as well, was in charge of all the children under nine. She was a softer, prettier version of Miss Montague-Scott; not as hearty, but just as school-teacherish.

  “What a well-behaved child Gavin is!” said Miss Carmichael. “And such an attractive little boy, with those huge eyes and delicate features.” She kept the younger children constantly occupied. Gavin came back to the room each evening with paint on his clothes and grass-stained knees. He seemed calmer, but he kept wetting his bed every night and he was strangely still, as if a light had gone out inside him.

  The woman in charge of the older children kept encouraging Norah to participate in the organized activities. Part of Norah wanted to forget her troubles and run relay races and swim in the pool with the rest. But a kind of stubbornness
had set in her, a mood that had always exasperated her mother—she called it her “black cloud” mood. When Norah felt like this she almost took pleasure in not enjoying or being grateful for what the grown-ups offered.

  “You should join in more,” Margery told her. “You’d like it here better if you did.”

  Norah knew she would, just as she knew she should be paying more attention to Gavin. But the black cloud engulfed her and she couldn’t escape it.

  The first day she squatted sullenly on the grass and watched a new game called baseball. There were new games, much more food and different accents. Still, it was difficult to believe she was really in Canada. Being here was much like being in the hostel in Liverpool: a tedious interlude of waiting for the next thing to happen.

  The baseball bounced to a stop beside her. Norah threw it back and was suddenly gripped by a memory of bowling a cricket ball to her father—the sharp smell of newly cut grass and her father’s encouraging, patient voice.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to play, Norah?” a woman asked kindly. Norah shook the memory out of her head as she refused.

  After that she escaped from the daily activities by spending as much time as possible in the large room that had been stocked with children’s books and set aside as a library. Norah had never been much of a reader. At school she was better at arithmetic than English, and at home there was too much to do outside to waste it on reading. But now she curled up with a book every day in one of the comfortable leather armchairs. Derek was always in there as well, along with several others. No one spoke; they were isolated like islands all over the room, each sheltering in a story.

  The first book Norah picked out was called Swallows and Amazons. It was about a group of children who camped all by themselves on an island. They reminded her of the Skywatchers. The book was good and thick and lasted for three days. After she’d finished it, she found an even thicker one, Swallowdale, about the same children. She became so lost in their adventures that whenever the meal gong sounded she looked around, startled, as if she’d been a long way away.