Exiles from the War

by Jean Little

  Saturday, November 23, 1940

  It is hard longing for news from England and yet knowing it is too early for a letter to come.

  Jane droops and you can see her sort of shrinking. Even having Pixie over does not help. I can’t bear it. But I have no way to stop.

  Sunday, November 24, 1940

  Waiting, waiting. It was a terribly long day.

  Monday, November 25, 1940

  We got scrappy letters from George. We don’t know where he is, though we assume he is on his ship by now. Sometimes bits are blacked out by the censor. He’s not supposed to leak information. It seems senseless. We do not know any spies! All he has told us is that he is always cold.

  Bombing is still going on. I cannot bear to write about it. I found out what blitzkrieg means. Lightning and thunder.

  Tuesday, November 26, 1940

  Skippy is alive! Jane got a telegram from her grandpa. LETTER ALREADY ON ITS WAY, it said. But he is alive!

  Miss McColl loved our poem! She wants us to make a scroll with our poem written out in fancy lettering. She will hang it on the wall. Sam says he can do the lettering.

  He and Jane got more mail from England. It is queer when you really think about it. They feel happy because their family is safe. But they might NOT be safe by the time the letters reach us. I wish I had not thought this. I’ll bet Sam has figured it out, but not Jane. Skippy is her one worry.

  Wednesday, November 27, 1940

  Jane is sick. She woke me up wheezing and she stayed home from school. She looks miserable. Her cheeks are flushed and she has a high fever. When Dad came home, he called Dr. Steiner, who said to keep her drinking and he’d be right over. She is in her bed and I am staying with her even though she seems asleep most of the time.

  Thursday, November 28, 1940

  I can’t write with Jane so sick. Oh, Dear diary, what if she does not get better? Every so often, she cries a little and says, “Mummy. I want Mummy.” It is awful. She seems so sick.

  Even reminding her that Skippy is alive only brings a flicker of a smile.

  Friday, November 29, 1940

  It is not full morning yet. Jane has pneumonia!! Dr. Steiner put her in the hospital last night. Everyone is worried. Sam looks almost as sick as she does. Her breathing sounded as though every breath hurt. She just lay there, no word or smile.

  Saturday, November 30, 1940

  I got thinking about pneumonia in the night. I have read books where children died of pneumonia. Jane’s mother is so far off. Mother has decided to wait a day and see if Jane is any better before she writes Mrs. B.

  Dr. Steiner told Dad there is a new drug, a “wonder drug” they call it. It has not been used much yet, but he thinks it may make a great difference. It has a long name but it is called Sulfa for short.

  When he talks about this, he looks even more excited than Robbie with Mackintosh’s Toffee. His eyes positively shine and he can’t stand still. I wanted to go to the hospital to visit Jane but they would not let me. They said she is too sick for visitors.

  December 1940

  Sunday, December 1, 1940

  Jane’s grandpa’s letter telling about Skippy finally arrived today. He sent it airmail. I thought it might be one of the letters that gets lost on the way because of the War, but I was wrong. He wrote it a couple of days before he sent the telegram and then he realized Jane should not have to wait for such good news.

  The dog came to the bombed cottage and a friend saw him and called them to come and pick him up. He was missing for two days but then he came limping home. He had a cut paw and he is a bit bruised but he’ll recover, her grandfather says. Mother took the letter to the hospital. Jane is terribly anxious about the limp and those bruises but the rest of us heaved sighs of thankfulness.

  There is lovely deep snow. It looks Christmassy. But, in spite of the news about Skippy, our house feels empty without Jane. You would think I would enjoy having my room to myself again, but it feels too quiet and lonely without Janie. I’ll be so glad when she comes home.

  Her grandparents have moved in with Jane’s parents. I hope it is safer there. I don’t see how they can sleep at night, imagining bombs raining down. But you have to sleep!

  Monday, December 2, 1940

  The Sulfa drug is making Janie better. Mother says it is a miracle. Dr. Steiner says it is called a miracle drug, that it will save thousands of lives. They have written the Brownings about her being sick, now that they can say she is getting better.

  Even Barbara is pleased. I think she has come around to really liking Jane. This is a great relief to me. I hated being pulled apart by them. She is also proud that her father was able to get the miracle drug for Jane. It is still very new.

  The school concert is coming. Sam has printed our poem out and I am to read it aloud. Jane’s class is to sing “The Campbells Are Coming.” She was excited about it and now she might even be well enough to go. It is still more than a week away.

  Sam told me that what he really wants for Christmas is a typewriter. I don’t know anyone our age with one and he said he knew he would not get it. But I told Dad in secret and Dad thinks he might get him a second-hand one. I must not tell in case it doesn’t come true. I hope it does. Sam deserves it.

  He asked me what I wanted myself. I told him as long as I got a new book, I did not care. Grandpa will give me theatre tickets as usual. You can go to six movies with them, whichever ones you choose.

  Mother found a perfect book for Jane. It is meant for grown-ups, I think, but it is about a dog. Jock the Scot. It is a British story, which is another reason Mother got it. It is by Alice Grant Rosman. It is a love story and a dog story both. I love it.

  Tuesday, December 3, 1940

  Jane is coming home tomorrow. I can hardly wait.

  Eleanor is actually knitting her a pair of bedroom slippers. They are red and white with tassles. All those socks she knitted have made her an expert.

  Britty keeps searching for Jane, mewing and mewing. I thought cats did not care about people much, but Britty proved me wrong.

  Wednesday, December 11, 1940

  Dear Diary, I am too busy to write. I promise I will be back. Jane is still not healthy and there is so much to do for Christmas.

  Friday, December 20, 1940

  We are out of school and the Christmas holidays have begun! I know, Diary. I skipped days and days. But I have been so busy reading to Jane when she came home from the hospital, and then getting ready for Christmas. Once you stop writing, I find, it is easy to stay stopped. But I am starting again. Eleanor asked me how I was getting along with keeping my record of my thirteenth year and I said it was going fine. But I went red, Diary. Telling Eleanor a fib is not easy because she is such a good person.

  Just four more days until Christmas!

  Monday, December 23, 1940

  Just two more days now!

  We are joining together with the Bennetts and having dinner at both our houses. We are doing the first part and they are providing the dessert. Aunt Carrie and Grandpa will be coming over, of course.

  I think Christmas is making the WGs excited and terribly homesick both, although neither of them is saying much. At home they put real candles on their tree, and the parents send the kids out and decorate it without their help. When Sam and Jane first see it, it looks glorious, they say. Also, they hang their stockings up at the foot of the beds, while we hang ours at the fireplace all in a row. We will have to decide what to do.

  They also call Santa Claus Father Christmas. He has a lot of names. Kris Kringle and St. Nicholas, for two. They are different and yet they are the same. I think every one of them has a beard though.

  Tuesday morning, December 24, 1940

  It is Christmas Eve Day. I always think I will not live through the hours and hours until Christmas actually comes and then, suddenly, it is here and it flashes past much too fast. One thing that helps to stretch it out is reading Christmas stories like The Other Wise Man and The Birds’ C
hristmas Carol.

  We’ve decided to hang our stockings on the beds but bring them down to the fireplace when we wake up. Jane says it isn’t right, but that is what we have planned. Sam says he is too old to have a Christmas stocking, but nobody gets that old at our house, not even Grandpa. When he and Aunt Carrie come over for dinner, we’ll have his stocking ready and waiting. Aunt Carrie’s too, even though she says it is foolishness. And Sam’s.

  Sam told me that he has not had a letter from Terry for more than two weeks and he is a bit worried. I hope Terry is just too busy and happy to write, but that sounds unlikely.

  Christmas Morning

  Wednesday, December 25, 1940

  Merry Christmas, dear Diary. Everyone is still asleep. It is not light yet. Dad said no getting up until six, and so I am waiting for Jane to wake up on her own. After all, she still seems too thin and pale. Oh good. Here comes Britty, meowing. Well done, Brit.

  Bedtime

  Christmas is over and we are in bed. We all missed George terribly. At least we know he got his parcel.

  I did get a good book. It is a beautiful copy of A Little Princess. I have read it, of course, but Mother knew I would love to have it for my very own. I have it here and I am going to read it by the light coming in from the hall until I fall asleep. Downstairs, on the radio, an English boys’ choir is singing Christmas carols. It sounds like angel voices.

  Did I say how thrilled Sam was when he saw the typewriter? He was thunderstruck.

  Boxing Day

  Thursday, December 26, 1940

  The phone rang before sunrise this morning. It was the police. Terry is missing. The people who got him think he might have been going to find Sam. But nobody knows where he is. Sam does not know either, of course, but he was right to be worried. I wish we could search for Terry, but the police are doing that. We are supposed to call them if he shows up.

  What if he has frozen to death somewhere? What if we never find him?

  Friday, December 27, 1940

  No news of Terry. I don’t like him, but I keep remembering him petting Britty. By the way, she is definitely pregnant. Jane is thrilled! Mother is not.

  Please, Terry, be all right.

  Saturday, December 28, 1940

  The doorbell rang this morning and a policeman was there with Terry! He looked terrible. He was dirty and half frozen. His nose was running and he glared at us as though he hated us. Then Mother stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him and he burst out crying in big gulps.

  “I’ll see to him,” she said. Then she looked at Dad and he nodded and went to fetch Sam. They can talk without saying a word.

  She took Terry away and ran him a hot bath and told him to wash his hair. When he was finished, she handed him in some clothes of George’s and then fed him breakfast. He wolfed down the food using both hands to shovel it in. I guess he had had hardly anything since he ran away.

  We were sitting at the kitchen table with him when he burst out, “If you send me back, I’ll run away again the first chance I get.”

  He wants to go home, bombs or no bombs. Sam asked what Terry thought his parents would say. Terry showed us a crumpled letter from his dad saying he wished he had kept him home. Dad read it but he did not say anything.

  Then Terry told us that his older brother Alan is still missing. He heard just before he ran away. He did not tell the family he was sent to live with. He said they would not care and I thought he might be going to cry.

  Nobody knows what to do, but Mother said Terry can stay with us for now.

  “Until we get it sorted out,” Dad said.

  We are all glad T is safe but he is still not easy to have around. It is like having a little, sharp pebble in your shoe which keeps poking into you. You could stop to get the pebble out but Terry just goes on making you limp.

  Sunday, December 29, 1940

  I can’t write anything. Everything is so muddled. Jane keeps crying, and Terry looks like a thundercloud most of the time. Even Mother can’t smooth down his prickles. She keeps trying but it isn’t easy. It is like trying to pet a growling dog who sounds ready to bite.

  Monday, December 30, 1940

  Britty has had two kittens! One was dead but the other is healthy as can be. Jane said Terry could name him and he said he would call the kitten Sabretooth. Jane did not like that at all, so Terry changed to calling him Pouncer. Jane did not like that much better, but we are trying to live with it. The kitten being born helped cheer everyone up. You do understand, Diary, that this kitten is too small to pounce or do much but drink and squeak.

  New Year’s Eve

  December 31, 1940

  One wonderful thing has happened during the last few weeks. Pixie’s “auntie” has started to grow fond of her. They actually took her to the Santa Claus parade in Toronto and then to Eaton’s Toyland. She sat on Santa’s lap! They got her a doll buggy for a present. Pixie will positively love pushing it up and down the sidewalk when the snow is gone. Dad found a cradle for her and Mother has made a mattress and pillow and quilt for it.

  Aunt Carrie had made her a Raggedy Ann doll. You can never tell with Aunt Carrie.

  If only Terry would try to fit in and be content. But he must be frantic with worry about Alan. I wonder if “missing” really means Alan must have died. I pray not. Sam says he might have been taken prisoner by the Germans. He thinks that might be worse than dying. Sam is wrong about this. Terry’s family must want him alive whatever happens.

  This is the last day of 1940, dear Diary. What a surprising year it has been! It is hard to believe that a year ago I did not know Sam or Jane or Pixie or Terry or Miss McColl or Beth. It makes you wonder what is coming next.

  1941

  January 1941

  New Year’s Day

  Wednesday, January 1, 1941

  Did I tell you I got a new dress for Christmas, Diary? I guess not. Terry’s being lost put it out of my mind.

  It is lovely. It is deep blue velveteen. Jane got one too. Hers is red velvet with a Peter Pan collar. We feel splendid when we put them on. We have all been invited to a Twelfth Night Party at the Bennetts’, and we will wear our new dresses. I’ve never been to a Twelfth Night Party before. Mrs. Bennett said she refused to let Hitler rob us of celebration and festivity. The boys make rude faces when anyone speaks of it, but I know they are pleased underneath.

  Twelfth Night is next Sunday, really, but the party will be on Saturday night.

  Thursday, January 2, 1941

  Mother told us at breakfast that she has been asked to go back to teaching AND they have given her a class in our school so she will be close to home, which is nice. What’s more, it is Jane’s class. Her teacher enlisted during the holidays, leaving them short. I wish I had had Mother for a teacher.

  It will feel weird to meet her in the hall as we come and go.

  Jane is pleased as punch about this. She burst out with, “You won’t put all the names on the board for the money, will you? It makes Natalie cry.”

  It took quite a while to get that mystery cleared up. It seems that Jane’s teacher puts every child’s name on the board on Monday mornings. When you bring in your 25¢ for a War Savings Stamp, your name will be erased. Natalie’s father died a year ago so her mother is raising the five kids on her own. She never has a quarter to spare for a War Savings Stamp. When the names are mostly rubbed out, the teacher makes the ones who have not brought money come up in front of the class and lectures them about the War Effort.

  “I gave her my birthday money from Grandpa,” Jane said. “And Redge gave Monty some he had. She makes them feel awful.”

  Mother and Dad thought this was terrible, but at least that teacher has gone now. Lizby was furious. She knows how it feels to be looked down on because you are poor.

  “You can bet your life I will do no such thing,” Mother told Jane. “You should have told me about this before, honey. I could have spoken to the principal.”

  Diary, why are some people so un
feeling and others kind right through? I could feel how ashamed Natalie must have felt every Monday. Jane’s eyes went round at the idea of Mother talking to the principal. She and Sam call him the headmaster.

  I have books filled with the stamps. When the War is over, we will get our money back and more besides. I will be rich. But only after we win the War.

  Bedtime

  Terry got another letter. It was sent on from the place where he lived. His brother IS a prisoner of war! Sam was here and the three of us were talking about the War. Sam said something about “when we win the War” and Terry said, “What if we lose, Sam? Did you ever think of that? We could, you know.”

  I could not believe my ears. I am sure he does not mean it. How could we lose?

  His sister is working as a Land Girl. Men who used to work for farmers have joined up and girls are taking their place. Terry says it is back-breaking work. His sister’s name is Betty and she sounds nice. When Terry talks about her, his eyes sort of light up.