Exiles from the War

by Jean Little

  Barbara would not come with us when she found out I would be going out early with Jane and Pixie. She thinks you should only go when it is pitch dark. The little girls are so excited that I catch it from them.

  Much later

  Jane is asleep with her hair still spangled and with candy apple around her mouth. Dad carried her up and put her into bed without waking her.

  We had lots of fun and got heaps of candy. Mother lets us eat all we want, which is wonderful. Barbara’s mother takes hers away and hands them out two a day for ages. You would think it was her candy, not Barbara’s. She went out with Janny and Marlene. I think it is the only night all year she can go out at night without a grown-up.

  November 1940

  Friday, November 1, 1940

  We went to the CGIT Hallowe’en party with our little sisters along. It was fun but I am too tired to write about it. We wore our same costumes. Beth went as Santa Claus! Jane was much better behaved than some of the other girls’ little sisters. Goodnight.

  Saturday, November 2, 1940

  I am in a writing mood!

  Winter is almost here. I wonder what Jane will think of our snow. They do have some snow in England, but not like ours. We do not live in an igloo, but Canada is “the true North strong and free.” Jane probably does not know about snow angels and building forts and things like that.

  Jane’s birthday is on Tuesday. A parcel arrived for her from England today. I am so glad. It would be terrible if there had been no present from home for her. I am giving her BALLET SHOES and a baby doll with a nightgown and a blanket. I wish it could be a rubber doll she could bathe, but there will not be any of those until the War is over. Mother says she misses elastic most. Doing up your underpants with a button feels risky.

  George asked Mother to get some sparklers for Jane so it will be like Guy Fawkes’ Night in England. Sam has not told me what he is giving her. He laughs and says it will be a big surprise.

  Some more British expressions

  lorry: truck

  pudding: dessert (We have pudding for dessert lots of times, but Sam and Jane call cake and pie pudding too.)

  Harvest festival: Thanksgiving

  jersey: pullover sweater

  joint: roast

  paddle: wade

  Bedtime

  Lizby made a cake today and forgot to turn the oven from pre-heat to bake. The cake came out about an inch high. Lizby cried. But it was for the church, not Jane’s birthday. Jane and I ate it before Lizby could throw it out. It was kind of crunchy but we liked it.

  Aunt Carrie is knitting Jane a sort of dress. It has a pullover top in stripes and under it a top like an undershirt sewn onto a skirt which is all blue and sort of rippled up and down.

  I would hate it but Mother told Aunt Carrie that Jane would love it. I gave her a look that said she was crazy if she really believed that, and she shook her head at me ever so slightly and tightened her lips against a smile. Maybe Jane will surprise us.

  Mother got her The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. It is long but Jane likes reading. Mother also got her a new book of paper dolls with fancy old-fashioned dresses. There are even bonnets and a muff. Jane will love them. So will her pal Pixie.

  Monday, November 4, 1940

  We are in bed already, Diary, because Jane told me we had to go to bed early so her birthday will come faster. She said she would not be able to sleep if I didn’t come too. She fell asleep in eleven minutes, but now I am up here I might as well stay. She has been torn all day between missing her mother and bubbling over with excitement because her birthday is tomorrow. Being a WG is complicated.

  Tuesday, November 5, 1940

  Jane’s birthday and Guy Fawkes’ Day

  What a splendid day! Jane loves her doll. She named her Mary Charlotte after me, but she just calls her Mary. Jane and Mary are both in the bed and Jane is sound asleep. Mary is gazing at me. Her eyes don’t shut. I have a doll whose eyes do, but they click every time and it spoils the effect.

  George sent her one of his funny cards. He drew a picture of her in enormous glasses. Over her head was a label saying SPECTACULAR JANE. It took me a minute to get it. George is so smart.

  Sam’s surprise was a Guy made out of old stockings and pillows. It has yarn hair and a painted-on face which is lumpy because of the stuffing. He and Robbie had made a big bonfire behind the Bennetts’ and we went over and danced around it waving sparklers.

  Pixie was invited for the whole party, but that aunt came and took her home before the fire was even going. Never mind. Pixie got the dime in the cake and she was pleased as punch.

  Barbara came over for the bonfire and she gave Jane a package of gum. Jane loves gum. Mrs. Steiner thinks it is “vulgar” for a girl to chew gum, so Barbara only chews it at our house.

  Jane actually did like her knitted suit! She gave Aunt Carrie a kiss! Aunt C positively beamed at her. I guess making that suit was a lot of work. That’s what Mother said. I’m glad Aunt C made it for Jane and not for me.

  Grandpa gave her a brand new dollar bill. That is a lot of money when your allowance is 10¢.

  Wednesday, November 6, 1940

  Now Jane’s birthday is over and we can start looking forward to Christmas. I wonder where George will be then. It will be so strange not having him with us. He has always been the life of the party, hanging up mistletoe in the kitchen doorway and kissing Mother every time he caught her coming in or out. He gave joke presents too, fake teeth and rubber spiders and a paste-on moustache. That was for Eleanor. It was in her stocking, but we all knew George was the Santa who put it there. I can’t bear to think of Christmas without him.

  Thursday, November 7, 1940

  We got a letter from George. He seems to be drilling night and day. They found out he can play the trumpet, so now he is in the marching band. He says we should hear him play “Rule, Britannia.” I did not know sailors marched. He complained about it, but I bet he was really pleased.

  We are starting to gather things to go in Christmas boxes for the Brownings and our sailor boy. I am going to buy him a harmonica so he will have something to play when he is not marching. Mother is making peanut brittle for him.

  Friday, November 8, 1940

  Barbara was saying nasty things about Jane again today and I told her that I didn’t want her coming over if she was going to be mean. Jane never comes near us now and I know her feelings are hurt. Barbara does get jealous but somehow, right now, there seems to be more to it. She got up to go without a word and then sat down and hid her face in her hands. I waited for her to explain. She didn’t. So I said, “Forget it.” I showed her a new sweater that Mother got me and then she left.

  I wish I understood what is making her so touchy.

  Saturday, November 9, 1940

  Mother made me clean our room today. Jane was supposed to help but Pixie came and the help vanished. When I complained, Mother looked at me as though I were being horrible. She said I should stop grousing and try doing my share. It is Jane’s mess as much as mine, Diary. And I don’t think I was grousing! Grrrr!

  Sunday, November 10, 1940

  Britty was missing this morning. We had to leave for church without knowing where she was. Jane was frantic. She actually cried because she was sure Britty had been stolen. Nobody would steal Britty! She is nice once you know her, but she is the homeliest cat in the world.

  When we got home, Jane finally spotted her on the roof of a house two doors down from ours. She was crouched down by the chimney, calling pitifully for rescue. It took ages and many people to get her down but, in the end, Sam went up the ladder after her. Was she grateful? She scratched him right across the chin. But Jane thought her brother, the cat rescuer, was braver than Superman.

  Jane and Sam’s grandfather writes reports about her Scottie dog in England. So far Skippy is fine but Jane still worries about him. Her grandfather numbers the letters and a couple had never arrived. They might come later, of course. Sometimes that happens.<
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  It is hard for Sam and Jane writing letters home, not knowing if they will make it there. The Brownings love getting news though, so the kids keep at it.

  Monday, November 11, 1940

  This is Remembrance Day. We had a special assembly at school and I recited “In Flanders Fields.” Dr. John McCrae, the author, was from Guelph. My grandpa knew him. Jane and Sam were amazed by this because they studied the poem in their school in England. Then Dad told us it was published first in England in Punch magazine. Sam liked that.

  I like the larks in the poem. They fly “still bravely singing.” I can hardly believe this bit, but I hope it is true.

  One of the teachers played “The Last Post” on his bugle. It is so sad. They talked about the grave of the Unknown Soldier. I did not let myself think of George.

  Tuesday, November 12, 1940

  Dear Diary, are you feeling neglected? There is a lot of work for school these days. It is as though the teachers think we have to learn everything before Christmas. They are also starting to plan Christmas concerts and decorations.

  We all have to write a composition called “Why I Love Canada.” Miss McColl suggested some of us might like to write a poem about this. Everyone groaned but I wonder if I could do it. I had a small idea about how it would end, but a small idea is not a poem.

  I did ask Dad about why the Nazis hate the Jews. He was quiet for ages, thinking, and then he said he could not explain it to me. I would have to wait until I was older. I told him that I hated it when adults say that. He smiled at me and said he knew how I felt, but he was unable to give me a quick answer that would help.

  “It isn’t that I am hiding some truth from you, Charlotte,” he said. “It is that I myself cannot fathom such inhumanity.”

  Then he gave a big sigh and said he had to go. I think this is the only time I can remember his not being able to explain something to me. I wonder if Barbara understands. I wish I could ask but I can’t. All I know for sure is that it is crazy.

  Wednesday, November 13, 1940

  I am reading Jane Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. She is sad for Rebecca, who is sent away from home just like her. But then Rebecca makes us laugh with her chatter.

  Thursday, November 14, 1940

  We are getting new dresses for Christmas. Mother saw some she liked in Budds. Jane is hoping for red velvet. Red velvet would be nice.

  Friday night, November 15, 1940

  Coventry was bombed last night. It was a terrible raid, the paper said. We have no word about Jane and Sam’s grandparents or Jane’s dog. Jane was right to be worried. They bombed Coventry Cathedral, which was old and beautiful. Dad said it was an outrage.

  Sam came over before school to be with us and wait for news. Dad thinks the Brownings will send word tomorrow. People talked about the bombing on the radio. It sounded awful. Not just awful. Wicked!

  You would think, if the Germans had to bomb a place, they would try not to hit a church. I was thinking that they would not have cathedrals in Germany, but Dad says they have lots of them. The Church of Our Lady, right here in Guelph, is a copy of a European cathedral.

  Mother sent us to school because it would help to pass the time until we got word from England. At recess I found out that Jane was crying her heart out. I asked if I could take her home. She was better as soon as she reached Mother. I wanted to stay but I went back.

  Saturday, November 16, 1940

  We got a telegram. Sam and Jane’s grandparents were in London and so were not home during the raid, but their cottage had a direct hit. They cannot find Jane’s dog but they are still looking. It is lucky that it is Saturday, because Jane has done nothing but cry or curl up in a ball of misery since we heard. The cable said LETTER FOLLOWING.

  God should stop things like this from happening. I told Mother and she said, “How?” I don’t know the answer but I still think He should.

  Jane is heartsick about her missing dog. I keep saying I am sure he is fine, but my being sure is no help.

  I will read to her. She can read herself, but she likes sharing a book, laughing at the funny bits and talking it over. I like it too even though I am twelve.

  Sunday, November 17, 1940

  There were some survivors in Coventry. It was on the news on the radio. It does not mention dogs, of course. Dad and Eleanor went to church but Mother and Jane and I stayed home. It is so hard, dear Diary, waiting. We spent most of the afternoon finishing Rebecca. It is nice because there is no war in it.

  Just before supper, Jane suddenly started crying again. It was not about her dog but about all the special things in her grandparents’ cottage that must have been lost. Here are some of them: Grandpa’s rocking chair, a big teapot with flowers on it, her grandmother’s embroidery frame.

  Jane has a petit-point picture her grandmother did for her of a tree with a pony under it. The stitches are so small Jane calls them “mouse stitches.”

  Her grandpa made a bookcase that has books in both sides and turns around on something like a Lazy Susan. I told her I had never seen one like that and she said of course not. He invented it! He also has a bunch of walking sticks that stand by the door in a thing like an elephant’s foot. He has collected them from around the world.

  What was worst of all was when she told about their hundreds of books. Some were so special. When she started to name some, like all the Andrew Lang fairy books and The Lost Prince and a big stack of Christmas Annuals, we cried. It was like learning of the death of friends.

  Monday, November 18, 1940

  When I told Barbara about Jane’s crying and worrying about Skippy, she was truly sorry and that made me feel better about her. She is not as heartless as I was starting to believe. Also, I think now some of her dislike of the WGs is connected to those Jewish children her family could not get out of Europe. Maybe she is angry that Jane and Sam are safe with us while those Jewish children are still in danger. I do not understand what could be happening to children, except getting bombed. I can’t ask Barbara. She would have told me already if she wanted to talk about it.

  Tuesday, November 19, 1940

  We still have no good news about Skippy.

  I am trying to write about loving Canada but it is not easy. It keeps sounding dumb. I was telling Sam and he offered to help. It turns out he really likes writing poetry. He felt he couldn’t say he loved Canada yet, but he might help me. I jumped at it. We asked Miss McColl if the two of us could do it. She said that would be great.

  Wednesday, November 20, 1940

  Sam and I are hard at work. I think it might be good. I hope so anyway. Sam is a good writer.

  No word about Jane’s dog, but it is too early for a letter about him to reach us anyway.

  Thursday, November 21, 1940

  Our poem is done, dear Diary, and I’ll write a copy on one of your pages. I hope I can make it look beautiful. I can’t use carbon paper. It looks so smudgy.

  Here it is. I admit that the best lines are Sam’s, but the idea is mine and I wrote most of the first and last verses.

  Why We Love Canada

  We love this land, our Canada,

  Her people clean and strong.

  With steadfast hearts and smiling eyes,

  Through life we march along.

  We children here in Canada

  Are taught to think ahead,

  And build a land of peace wherein

  To earn our daily bread.

  Her mountains rise magnificent,

  Their snowy peaks aloof.

  Great ocean breakers wash her shores.

  The far blue sky’s her roof.

  Her summer is a golden song,

  Her autumn crisp and bright,

  Her spring all green awakening,

  Her winter cold and white.

  We stand on guard for Canada.

  Our young men go to war

  To keep the country that we love

  Safe from shore to shore.

  Her streets are filled with noisy li
fe.

  How still the prairie’s space.

  Sometimes it seems that Canada’s

  A mirror for God’s face.

  He’s surely proud of Canada,

  Though many things we lack.

  When He looks down on us, God smiles

  And Canada smiles back.

  It still sounds rough in spots, but Sam and I are proud of it. We will show it to Miss McColl tomorrow. I can hardly wait.

  Friday, November 22, 1940

  Miss McColl was away today so she won’t see our poem until next week.

  There was no news from England. I keep picturing Jane’s dog coming safely home. I pray I am right. If Skip turns up, I think they’ll send a telegram because they will know how Jane is worrying.

  Mother let Sam help her fill the bird feeder today. He is fascinated by the birds. They are different from British birds. He says our robin is not a robin at all, not like the robin in The Secret Garden. I would like to argue with him but I know he is right. At the feeder now are mostly chickadees and sparrows.

  Pixie loves the chickadees and Jane says that Pixie would be one if she were a bird. I asked her what the rest of us would be. Then she said I would be a nuthatch because I do things upside down. Sam would be a woodpecker. George would be a bluejay. And Eleanor would be an owl, a small one. Jane would not explain. But I loved watching her seriously deciding.