I agreed that cute was the right description. He had a chubby baby face, bright trusting blue eyes and red-gold hair

Ronald and I had talked it over but we were both adamant that, come what may, we should stick together. Any other way would be more difficult, not less. Being an optimist I told myself I would cross bridges when I came to them, not before. But had we been wrong? Our children were our most precious possessions.

Were our difficulties only beginning? What would be the reaction of our sponsors when they found out I was pregnant?

For a moment I was paralysed into inaction, only tears coming of their own volition.

A woman in uniform (there were a few about to help immigrants) stopped to ask what was the matter. I whispered my predicament.

She assured me that the boys would come to no harm and confidently ran after the two older ones whom I managed to point out to her, whilst I caught up with wee Ronnie.

After they were all gathered round my knees again, I realised how fortunate it was that we had bought them red duffle coats back in Dundee. The bright colour of the coats had made them easily spotted in the crowd.

No difference

Soon Ronald was back in charge but with the bunk problem unresolved. It should have been arranged before departure. The authorities could do nothing about it now.

We would just have to share two bunks between the five of us all the way to Edmonton. The offer to pay extra made no difference.

“Never mind,” I said. “You’ve done your best. Perhaps it won’t be quite so hot tonight.”

But I was wrong. On this train that would cross the Great Canadian Shield, the Prairies, the empty rolling lands of Alberta and the high Rockies to the Pacific, the bunks were just as hot and cramped.

However, Ronald and the children slept well and I, with my cold still making breathing difficult, fitfully.

The passengers on this train were rather different to those on the Halifax to Montreal run. Many came from different nationalities.

Some were what we called “real Canadians” – strong-shouldered men dressed casually in checked open-necked shirts and women in jeans.

We felt out of place in our British clothes – Ronald especially in his suit, collar and tie.

I noticed that the Canadians never complained about the heat or lack of air and guessed one must get used to it.

I did think people looked very pale. Our children were apple-cheeked compared to any Canadian children we saw.

Richard and Michael were reasonably wellbehaved. A long train journey seemed to suit them. Also they liked the various visits to the dinette, where we got buffet meals that were good and not nearly as expensive as we had been led to believe they would be.

Wee Ronnie was a little more difficult to cope with. He had become very self-assured since leaving home and wanted to visit everyone on the train.

Good looks

A young Canadian couple, Hank and Linda Fremain, in particular took his fancy.

He bumped into them, by accident, on the very first morning of the journey, as they were coming down the corridor.

The man was young with rugged good looks and his wife slender and smart with neat, shining red hair. Perhaps the red hair was the mutual attraction.

“Hi! How are you?” Linda smiled and bent down to speak to him. Ronnie said Hi back. In fact, after that first introduction to the new greeting, he never stopped using it.

Here was a nice easy word that suited him. He made full use of it, going up to everyone and saying hi with a greater or lesser degree of response.

However, he kept going back to Linda and Hank, who had seats near to ours.

On the first day, about lunch time, Linda came up to us and said: “That sure is a cute little boy you’ve got.”

I agreed that cute was the right description. He had a chubby baby face, bright trusting blue eyes and redgold hair, unlike Richard who had blonde hair, that was to grow dark like my own and Michael with wavy pale brown hair like his dad’s.

Wee Ronnie was different all right and at an attractive age. As far as he was concerned there were no dragons in the world.

I had to watch that I did not let my love for him become over-protective.

“Would you mind if we took him to lunch with us?” Linda asked.

“Not at all,” I said, “how very kind of you. I am sure he would love it.”

Father Ronald agreed. Wee Ronnie spent a lot of time with them on the journey, lapping up the attention that was lavished on him alone – a new experience for him.

They took him to various meals. They ate more expensively than we did, lunching in the dining car. Ronnie could have anything he wanted.

Toward the end of the journey Linda said to me: “Hank and I are going all the way to Vancouver. We’re going to miss your little boy. We’d sure like to adopt him.”

Exasperating

“Oh, you can have him,” I said in a jocular manner. I was rather proud to think people liked Ronnie so much. I myself thought he was pretty terrific, albeit a little exasperating at times and was pleased to think that others thought the same.

The days spent in the train, travelling through this vast Siberian-type terrain, passed more quickly than Ronald and I had anticipated.

We talked to various people and learned a little about Canada. I also liked to watch people when I thought they weren’t looking, speculating about their lives, sometimes making up stories about them.

There was one young woman in particular, who constantly drew my attention. She was tall, attractive, dressed in service uniform and obviously travelling alone.

It was written all over her that she wanted to remain alone. She looked very sad, never smiled and quite often her eyes were red with silent weeping. Why, I wondered, what tragedy had overtaken her? However, despite her obvious wishes, she was never left alone for long.

“Just look at them!” said Ronald one afternoon, “like bees round a honey pot. (More tomorrow.)