day in late July, Marjorie was out of bounds, exploring the graveyard down by the church. As she looked through the old graves she found herself thinking of Joyce. She wished her sister could be out with her instead of always working in the kitchen. The only good part of it was her big sister usually managed to sneak them some extra treats. The best treats were the cookies that Joyce took from the special jar — the jar that the kitchen helpers were not supposed to touch. Joyce knew how to rearrange the jar so that no one could tell that some cookies were missing. Many of the kids were jealous that she had a big sister in the kitchen, but she did not care, that only made her happier to have Joyce.
As she examined the graves, she felt a tingling go up her spine. It was spooky and exciting at the same time. She especially liked the old gravestone with the anchor on it. It seemed out of place because she was told that the ocean was so far away. She was rubbing the moss away from the writing, trying to see the date, when she heard her name. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She told Nurse that she thought she was a ghost. Nurse asked what on earth she was doing way down here, she should be in the fields and not over the fence. Marjorie explained that she was exploring things, but Nurse told her to get up and come along with her as she needed her to go in, get washed up, and put on her school clothes to look presentable. Marjorie protested that it was not a school day, and reminded Nurse that they were on their summer break. The ease of her protest showed how much more comfortable Marjorie had become at the home.
“Marjorie, enough cheekiness. Just do as you are told. We have some special guests here today and they want to talk to you. Get down to the headmaster’s office as soon as you are changed.”
Joyce looked out her window. She could see Marjorie walking up the path with the Nurse. What was going on today? Every quarter of an hour or so, the Nurse would come out to the playing field and call in two or three of the children.
A short while later, Marjorie gingerly walked down the hall, towards the dreaded office. Most of the children tried their best to avoid this room. If they sent a child there, he or she usually came out crying. When children needed to pass by the room, they usually tiptoed to avoid disturbing the headmaster.
When Marjorie reached the room, a line of children already stood along the wall. One of the older girls told her to stand at the end of the line and wait until she was called. Marjorie stood for ages. She wanted to get back outside, her playtime was disappearing. Finally, it was her turn. As Marjorie walked in, she heard Joyce’s name being spoken.
“No, it says here that she is already thirteen. I don’t even want to see her.” A man’s voice answered. Marjorie wondered what Joyce’s age had to do with anything, and besides, her sister was not thirteen, she was twelve. Marjorie was surprised to find two strange men in the headmaster’s office, but no headmaster. She was about to tell the man in the white doctor’s coat about the mistake in Joyce’s birthday, but he immediately called her over to him, and as she did so, he asked if she was indeed Marjorie Arnison.
She whispered, “Yes, sir.” Her voice always seemed to stick when she had to talk to people like this. His voice boomed out, showing Marjorie what he expected of her, and asked her to speak up. He told her that he needed to hear her clearly.
“Yes, sir, I am Marjorie,” she yelled out, immediately putting her hand to her mouth, surprised at the loudness of her voice. He said the records show that she was eleven years old. He peered over his glasses and told her that she was pretty small.
“Sir, I am ten, sir.” Marjorie whispered. Her age had become a bothersome topic. She didn’t know how to get the adults to listen to her.
“What? Speak up.”
“Ten, sir.” It still came out as a whisper.
“What? Never mind.” He asked her to come closer as he had to weigh her, measure her height, and look down her throat, all the while assuring her that it would not hurt at all.
The other man, who had been sitting quietly going over a stack of papers, called Marjorie over to him when the doctor was finished. He told her he had to give her a couple of tests, pointed to a desk beside him, and told her to sit. Next he handed her a paper. When she was done, he gave her another paper; this time it had a maze on it. He told her to trace her way through to the end. He didn’t hurry her so she took her time.
Marjorie looked at the maze. She liked mazes. Before she put her pencil on the paper, she looked through to find the end, searching out the blind alleys. She hated having to trace back from them. She found it was best to spot the dead ends first. When she was done, she picked up her paper and handed it back and said she was finished and asked if she could go.
She sat back down when he said no. There was one last test to do. He handed her another group of papers and she started the test. Frustration filled her, but over the months she had learned that it was easier to do what they asked without questioning or complaining. It was the summer holidays and she resented having to do these tests, but kept her feelings to herself. When she was done she stood up and looked at him. He nodded his head and told her to go. “Send in the next one in line.”
A formal letter under the Fairbridge letterhead, dated August 20, 1937. The Fairbridge Society, the Middlemore Emigration Homes, the Canadian officials at Canada House in London, and Department of Immigration and Colonization in Ottawa, Ontario, sent and received many pieces of correspondence with regard to Marjorie and her siblings’ inclusion for the Fairbridge farm scheme in Canada.
University of Liverpool Archives, Special Collections Branch, Fairbridge Archives, Arnison Family Records, D296.E1.
Marjorie was about to ask the doctor what this was all about, but he was writing in a notebook. When he did not hear her leave, he looked up and shooed her away and told her to be quick about it, as he did not have all day.
She walked out and the next girl went in. Kenny was standing at the end of the line. He grabbed his big sister as she walked by and in a whisper asked her what was going on. She told him that that the doctor checks you and the other man just asks a bunch of silly questions and gives some tests, but she assured him that it did not hurt a bit. She told him that she would see him later and she skipped off towards the door. Before she could open it, Nurse shouted at her, “Where do you think you are going? Go up and change into your play clothes first.”
Joyce watched Marjorie skip along the path from her kitchen window. As she scrubbed her dishes, she thought of asking Cook what was going on. However, she did not, as it would be easier to ask Marjorie later. Adults did not like the children to ask too many questions, and, besides, you could never be sure if they were telling you the truth. As she washed dishes, she thought about her mum and Phyllis and the babies. She missed them. Did they miss her? They had been at Middlemore Homes for several months now, and her mum had not sent a single letter to them. Never mind that, she told herself, she was twelve and a half now and she would soon be old enough to be on her own. They insisted that she was already thirteen. Maybe she should stop telling them they were wrong. It might mean that she would get out of here sooner. The first thing she would do would be to find her way back to Whitley Bay, and she would take Marjorie, Audrey, and Kenny with her.
What would she find in Whitley Bay? Would they still be living in the same flat on Whitley Road? Would her mum take her back? She would miss the nice clothes, the food, and the sweets, but she definitely would not miss the mountains of dishes and potatoes to peel. She scrubbed furiously at the big pan. She wanted her mother, but she also wanted the nice things too. Nothing was easy to figure out anymore. She looked up; Kenny was skipping down to see Marjorie. One thing for sure she would do anything for her little sisters and her brother. Cook had left the room for the moment. She quickly grabbed the cookie jar and snuck a handful into her apron pocket. During her break, she would run out to the field and ask Marjorie what was going on.
The approval for Marjorie’s emigration.
Liverpool University Archives, Fairbridge Fonds, Special Collections Branch, Arnison Family