There came a sudden resolve inside me and I said: “Tomorrow we’ll start again. This time I’ll come with you and we’ll scour the whole of Edmonton”

When we returned to the car, Ronald asked: “What do you think?”

“Not unless there is nowhere else in the whole of Edmonton,” I said.

At a later date when telling friends of some of our difficulties, they would ask me: “Did all these problems not put a great strain on your marriage?”

At the time I never thought about it but looking back I’m sure it did the opposite, it strengthened us. In the position we were in there was no room for disagreement.

The conflict must not be between us but with the difficult and dangerous outside world. There were minor squabbles and disagreements but I don’t remember them.

On this particular morning I could see Ronald was almost at the end of his endurance while I was, by now, feeling well rested with a renewed confidence and vigour.

Resolve

There came a sudden resolve inside me and before he could speak I continued: “Tomorrow we’ll start again. This time I’ll come with you and we’ll scour the whole of Edmonton. We’ll come up with something, you’ll see!”

We had a good night’s sleep and after breakfast set out with restored hope, prepared to spend the whole day looking at houses and flats. Ronald was beginning to get used to driving in a Canadian town.

That morning we travelled far and wide, up and down its avenues and streets. The problems were as Ronald had told me – suitable houses or flats were too expensive for our now meagre purse.

Cheaper accommodation were rooms that shared a kitchen and perhaps a bathroom, or compact but stuffy small basement flats smelling faintly of gas.

“One more before we take the kids for lunch,” I said to Ronald.

We were on our way back to Joe’s Little Acre when we turned up a suburban avenue. It wasn’t the complete house that was to let here, just the basement flat. The advertisement said that it had three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. It sounded big enough. Joe, however, had warned us about basement flats. “Folks say that they’re none too healthy on account of them being down under and adjacent to the heating system, which is usually a boiler using natural gas,” he warned.

“Just the same,” he continued, “young couples sure go for them because they’re cheap. Often they don’t stay long. People in Alberta are always moving on.”

The moment we turned into its wide street I liked it. It gave me a good feeling. I knew at once I wanted to live there.

The houses in the avenue were all different in shape and size. Many of them were attractive.

Some were built completely of wood, left in the simple beauty of its natural graining and highlighted with a coat of varnish.

Uninspiring

Others were painted in sparkling white or bright clear colours that gleamed in the brilliant sunshine. Metallic cars were dotted here and there to add to the brightness.

The houses had been constructed long enough on the cleared land to allow some trees to grow to a reasonable height. These were mostly quick-growing birches and poplars.

The gardens themselves were uninspiring. Mostly areas of burnt-up grass which ran down to the sidewalk, often without the impediment of fences.

There were young children about, playing with tricycles and buggy-type doll’s prams, small replicas of the one I had seen a few days before in the streets of Edmonton.

I sensed freedom for children in these communal gardens. There were garden patches at the back also which we only caught glimpses of on our first visit to 147 Avenue but which we came to know more about.

The more provident of the owners watered them well and grew vegetables that shot up like beanstalks in the very short growing season.

In winter these same back gardens were converted into ice rinks, layer after layer of water being smoothly sprayed on until a gleaming patch of ice grew hard and compact.

There the older children, clad in quilted cotton anoraks, spent hours skating and playing fierce games of ice hockey.

Today, ice rinks were far from our thoughts. We looked along the row of houses on either side. One house, about half way along the row, stood out above the rest.

It was built of wood and had recently been painted white. Here and there touches of black were visible. Something about the simplicity of its lines and the way it towered above the other houses reminded me of a church.

This house as it turned out was the one we were looking for. When we reached it the door down to the basement was open. Tentatively we went down a few steps.

Reasonable

At the bottom, beside a large gas boiler, a woman was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

“Excuse me,” Ronald said, “is this the basement flat advertised for rent?”

The woman didn’t get up immediately but sat back on her haunches looking at us from the depth of her dark brown eyes. Her glance was quick but thorough. I felt sure she already knew all about us. “Yes,” she said simply. “Could we see through it please,” I asked. Obligingly she showed us all the rooms. It was a nice little flat with everything in it we could possibly want. It was clean and warm and the price was reasonable. I looked at Ronald. “What do you think?” I asked. “If you like it,” he said. I turned to the landlady. “We’ll take it,” I said, “although I must warn you we have quite a big family.” I was genuinely worried that this might be a stumbling block as it would have been at home. “How many?” she asked. “Four,” I confessed. “I have eight,” she replied. Without anything more being said the bargain was completed. She told us we could move in next day. (More tomorrow.)