The Sky is Falling (6 page)

Then Miss Montague-Scott got seasick. So did Lucy and many other children. Some threw up on the deck as they ran around, but most spent their days moaning in bed.

Now Norah was free to do as she pleased. Dulcie wasn't seasick either, and when she wasn't looking after Lucy, she hung around with Margery and some other prissy girls who had formed a society called the “Thumbs Up Club”.

“Don't you want to join us, Norah?” Dulcie asked. “It keeps our spirits up. Every time one of us feels homesick or scared she says ‘thumbs up!' and we all do it together. It's a great help.”

“
I'm
not homesick,” lied Norah, who lay beside Gavin every night trying to block out the images of home that flooded her mind. “I'm busy with much more important things, thank you.”

She was watching for periscopes. Every day she leaned over the railing and gazed out to sea. Ahead of the
SS
Zandvoort
steamed a whole convoy of ships, protecting them until they were far enough away from England to be safe. The escorts pretended to ignore the presence of the convoy, but Norah remembered Mrs. Baker's comment.
She
knew they were in danger of being torpedoed. She watched the unbroken line of grey water on the horizon every day for an hour, until she got too chilled to stand still. The problem was, she didn't know what a periscope or a U-boat looked like.

Sometimes, if she let herself think too much about torpedoes, the suffocating fear would come again. Once
she groped beside her in panic—where was her gas mask? Then she remembered. Instead of a gas mask, she now had a lifebelt she had to carry everywhere: scratchy orange canvas filled with cork. At least it made a good pillow.

The ship was like a moving island and Norah explored every inch of it, happy to be able to go where she wanted after the regimented hostel. The Dutch crew indulged the children and let them help polish brass and coil ropes. Sometimes the captain would stop and speak to them in his halting English, or inspect their lifeboat drill. Wherever he went, he was followed by a gang of admiring small boys.

The best part of the voyage was the unrationed food. Everyone gorged on unlimited supplies of sugar, butter, oranges and ice cream. Some of the meals had seven courses and there were five a day. Norah thought of the doctor who'd said she was scrawny, and ate as much as she could.

The ten-day trip became a soothing, timeless space between the war behind and the unknown country ahead. Everything had happened so fast that Norah still couldn't believe she was leaving home. Sometimes she tried to imagine “Canada”. She thought of ice and snow, red-coated Mounties and
Anne of Green Gables
. None of it fit together.

Miss Montague-Scott recovered but, except for the daily lifeboat drills, she gave up trying to organize them. “They may as well run free while they can,” Norah heard her tell another escort. “The poor kiddies are going to have enough red tape when they arrive.”

What was red tape? Norah wondered.

She made friends with one of the boys from the Scottish group. His name was Jamie, and he had collected far more shrapnel than she had. He helped her watch for periscopes. “I
do
wish we'd be torpedoed,” Jamie said longingly, as they stared at the blank expanse of water. When they got tired of keeping watch they held up biscuits for the hovering gulls to snatch out of their fingers.

Jamie introduced Norah to his older brothers. She envied them when they told her they were going to live with their uncle on the Canadian prairies. The Smiths, too, were “nominated”. That meant they knew whom they were going to stay with in Ontario. “It will be in a vicarage in Toronto, just like at home,” said Dulcie. “The Milnes are old friends of Daddy's.” Norah wondered where she and Gavin would be sleeping in a week.

N
ORAH AND JAMIE
were standing together on the deck one morning when Norah cried, “Look! Is that land?”

Far in the distance was a thin blue line, as if someone had painted a dark outline along the horizon. As the day progressed it got darker and closer, and the next morning it had broken up into islands.

Then a thick fog obscured their vision. Jamie's brother, Alistair, who seemed to know everything, told them they were off the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. As they leaned over the railing into the mist, Norah was astonished to see an enormous grey-white shape loom out of the fog.

“What's
that
?”

“It's an iceberg!” said Alistair. “There's something to write home about!” They watched in awe as the ship glided by the ghostly mountain of ice.

Soon they entered a huge estuary; Alistair said it was the St. Lawrence River but its banks were so far apart it seemed more like a small sea. Then it narrowed to a proper river, its high shore dense with firs. Jamie kept a close watch. “Maybe we'll spot an Indian war dance,” he told Norah.

“What a little idiot!” scoffed Alistair. “Canada isn't like a wild west film.”

But Jamie and Norah kept examining the cliffs hopefully. Now they were passing small villages, each with a lighthouse and a white-spired church. In the distance rose the green roofs of Quebec City. The ship docked there briefly and all the children crowded at the railing, pushing each other in their excitement. Below them men shouted to each other in French.

“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.

T
HE 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

A
t 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.