she knew that they needed to get on yet another boat before they reached their final destination. The Prince of Wales Fairbridge Farm School was on Vancouver Island, off the coast of British Columbia. It seemed so far away and so remote; the children could never imagine such great land spaces. That was probably one of the reasons they instructed her to tell them as little as possible.
“Let it sink in one step at a time,” the headmaster had warned. “That way the children might be able to cope with it. Keep them excited about what might be around the corner, and do not let them dwell on what they are leaving. You don’t want them crying all the way to Canada, do you?” The headmaster had growled as he dismissed her. But he had no advice about what to do when the children found that what was just around the corner too ominous to understand. Why had she been chosen to undertake this journey with the children? She had tried to get out of it, but to no avail.
Nurse hardly knew what to say to the girl. If she promised to send out something for one child, she would be making promises to them all, promises that she knew she could not keep. By now, the staff would have stripped their cots and all signs of these children would be gone from the dorm. They expected another group of children at the home any day now. It was even possible that by tonight a new group could fill the beds these children occupied this morning. The home tried to keep a steady stream coming and going. It was the policy.
It saddened her to think that they kept the children just long enough to fatten them up a bit. Most of the children would just start to settle in, find some security, and begin to trust her, and then they were gone. She wondered how these children really fared in their lives. Most of them came from backgrounds that left them unprepared for the harshness of emigration. The sending agencies expected these children not only to survive their ordeal but also to become perfect citizens in their new country. If they did not make it, they placed the blame on some weakness inherited from their poor parents. Everyone seemed to think it was the right and proper thing to do. It was cheaper than housing them in English institutions. They thought the best way to break the pattern of poverty and keep the children from following in their parents’ footsteps was to remove them from their backgrounds. To her, that was the tragedy — these children would no longer have any sense of family.
Unfortunately, this was precisely what most of the sending agencies saw as positive about child emigration. Once the children were removed from their parents they could mould them into good, useful, and obedient citizens. Yet, what actual changes were the children offered? For the most part they only trained them to be domestic servants and farm hands. They were simply preparing them for the same roles but in a different country, and there they had no family support. The children supposedly had the support of the Fairbridge Society, and it was believed to be far better than anything their families could give them, but she was not convinced. Maybe it worked. She rarely heard of them sending children back. Nevertheless, she felt that they expected the little children to undertake a journey that they would never embark on themselves. She was certain, too, that they would never, in a million years, consider sending their own children away on such a journey. This seemed to be the plight of the children of the country’s poorer classes. The poor had always been unwanted. She turned to the tear-stained child but could see that there was no need to respond. The little girl’s face showed that she already knew the answer.
By the time they pulled into London’s Euston Station, the mood had brightened a little. The children had heard of London, England’s capital, but had never expected to see it for themselves. The master shouted out orders for the children to line up on the platform and told them that they needed to take the Underground to Charing Cross. They were to find a partner, pay attention, and not get lost. He told them he hoped he had made himself perfectly clear but did not wait for a response before warning them that he would personally punish any of the children who let go of their partners’ hands. When he asked if everyone understood him, a chorus of “Yes, sir” rang out.
Getting everyone to the correct platform and on the Underground all in one group was a feat. Once they stepped inside the train, the children crowded around the door, making it impossible for others to get on. The master urged the children to keep going, to move ahead and find a seat. He counted them again, three girls and ten boys, and then breathed a sigh of relief — almost there and everyone was accounted for.
Their stop came quickly. The master ordered them to take their partners’ hands and follow him. “Be quick or the doors will shut and take you to the next stop.” Someone saw the sign and yelled out that they were at Charing Cross. The group marched out of the station, their eyes widening as they walked along Craven Street and then down Strand. They had never seen such sights and sounds before.
One of the four lions at Trafalgar Square, London. The children would have walked across the square in September 1937 to get to Canada House.
Photo by Jack Weyler.
“There’s Trafalgar Square! Can we get over there?” A boy yelled out.
It was a feat getting all the children across the street. For the past several months, they had spent all their time at the home, except for their daily monitored excursions to the local day school. Nurse was thankful when all were in the square and safe for the moment. Her obligations were almost at an end. She pointed and said, “Look, children, there’s Canada House.”[2] If all went as planned, she and the master could catch the late afternoon train back to Birmingham.
Squeals of delight rang out as the children ran around the square. It would not be wise to take them over to Canada House until they ran off a little energy. Two of the boys were sitting by one of the lions and yelling for someone to notice them. Master waved to them and told them to be careful. A younger boy chased the pigeons, but just when he thought he had one, the bird flew away, leaving him staring at his empty hands. The three girls wandered off and were walking arm-in-arm, staring about and looking agog at all the sights. A small group of boys stood by the statue of Lord Nelson.
“Blimey, that statue is high! I wonder who he is.”
Nurse was about to give a history lesson but was interrupted. It was unfortunate timing as it was one of those rare moments when the children seemed to have forgotten their plight and were living in the moment. The master’s voice broke the spell as he ordered the children to form partners again and line up. A groan broke out, but they scurried to comply. He counted them first, then walked up and down the line, inspecting each one, pointing to the child as he barked out his orders:
“Button your coat.”
“Put your hat on straight.”
“Pull up your socks.”
“Tuck in your shirt.”
It was important for the children to look their best before going into Canada House. His job was to ensure that the Canadian officials had no immediate grounds to reject any of the children.
“Now, boys and girls, we will be leaving you soon. You must be on your very best behaviour. You are getting to go on a grand adventure, but you must prove that you are worthy of such an honour. The King and your country expect you to be brave. Do not disappoint us. Alright, my little soldiers, line up by twos and follow me.”
Suddenly it hit Marjorie — it was important for her to make a good impression because if Canada did not want her, then who would?
The children marched to the far side of the square and waited for their chance to walk across the street. They clambered up the front stairs of Canada House.
“C-A-N-A-D-A. It spells Canada.” The girl beside Marjorie pointed to the letters at the top of the wall high above the columns.
As she scrambled up the foreign stairs, Marjorie longed for the familiarity of the home. She pictured Joyce looking everywhere for her. What would she think when she found out she was gone? Forever and ever. She had wanted to get away from Middlemore, but not like this.
In 2001, Marjorie visited Canada House