The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 30

Adrian rose with speed, jumped on his tractor and was off across the prairie, stones following him as he went

Secondly, he was always in a hurry. Often, in spite of his weight, we would see him running. At seven in the morning the door of the farmhouse would go bang and out would come Jacobs at the trot, holding on to his stomach as he went, making for the barn, perhaps only to scrape some rust from an implement and there was next to no rust in Alberta.

Thirdly, he was a man of dangerous moods that were difficult to assess, sometimes taking tantrums and getting in to a rage for no apparent reason.

Local people wouldn’t work with him because of this. To Adrian it was like water off a duck’s back. He could and did take fantastic liberties with his boss that Ronald would not have dared to do and got away with it.

He would kid Jacobs about it afterwards until he won from him first a crinkle under the eyes and then a huge belly laugh.

Once, during seeding time, when Jacobs had been driving Ronald and Adrian very hard, Adrian, while working on his own in the far away field, decided to have an afternoon nap lying in the shade of his tractor.

Funny side

He was fast asleep when the first stone hit him. He opened a startled eye to see Jacobs raging towards him. He rose with speed, jumped on his tractor and was off across the prairie, stones following him as he went.

Later that evening he ragged Jacobs about “the flinging of the rocks” and said how funny it must have looked! Jacobs, the heat of the moment gone, saw the funny side.

Ronald just couldn’t be like that with Jacobs. For us life was too serious, although after the coming of Adrian the edge was taken off that.

We were beginning to discover that although we spoke the same language as the Canadians, we didn’t always have the same understanding.

With Adrian it was different; being British and in similar circumstances we understood one another.

He made a difference to our lives. On the days that they were not working overtime, Adrian, who lived in with the Jacobs, would saunter over to our shack after supper.

Ronald and he would go over the day’s happenings, Jacobs’ idiosyncrasies and the alleged madness of life in Canada compared with home.

Had anyone been passing on the gravel road beyond the low picket fence which ran round or small uncultivated garden, they would have heard much laughter.

They would also have heard the sound of happy children’s voices for Adrian used to play with them if he wasn’t too tired.

They loved this big new uncle that could so quickly become a boy again.

The difficulties of seeding time rubbed off on me. Ronald, as a rule, had few spare moments for anything other than work.

He was often very tired. I tried to save him as much as I could.

Efforts

Logs had to be sawn for the fire with a blunt old saw on the makeshift saw bench; also water had to be carried. I tried to get all this done before Ronald came in for his meals.

I was feeling well now and happy getting my little house ship-shape. Betty Jacobs seemed pleased at my efforts and remarked, among other things, on the sparkling windows – she had never seen them so bright, she said.

From time to time she brought things over for the house to make the cabin a little nicer – a new piece of oilcloth for the table, a rug for the floor, a vase she no longer wanted.

One day she looked in and said: “Say, you folks’ kitchen sure could do with brightening up a little. How would you like some paint for the walls?”

I looked at the unpainted hardboard walls and agreed with Betty

“That would be very kind of you,” I said. “I’ll bring it over right now,” she said, “as long as I remember but don’t start painting till after seeding time and the baby is born. Ronald can help you with it after work.”

Minutes later she brought the paint over, left it and ran off. I looked with pleasure at the pots of paint – four of them, containing clear colours, each one different, white, blue, yellow, green.

The brushes too were there, clean and inviting. The children were quiet for once, playing a game in the bedroom which, with luck, would absorb them for some time.

Now or never, I thought and started painting. I got a surprising amount done that morning and what a difference it made.

The sun seemed twice as bright, dancing on the newly painted walls.

Three days later Betty Jacobs returned and saw, to her astonishment, the kitchen walls painted and me standing, rather precariously, on top of a rickety table, putting the finishing touches to the ceiling.

“Oh you shouldn’t be doing that!” she said in a startled voice. “You shouldn’t be reaching like that with the baby so nearly due.”

I laughed and assured her I was all right as I applied the last stroke and clumsily climbed down from the table.

Pleasure

“You have done well,” she said. “What a difference. How pretty and bright it looks.” Her eyes danced with the same pleasure as mine.

Did I detect a hint of admiration in them? Something I knew would be hard to come by in this difficult land. It was a good moment.

Then one day hats were thrown in the air – seedingwas over. The baby was due. It had waited, thank goodness, no early delivery!

It was a most accommodating baby no matter what the sex.

Next day Tom Jacobs said to Ronald: “How are you going to manage when your wife goes into hospital?”

“I don’t quite know,” Ronald replied. Jacobs made all the decisions about everything and Ronald knew he would come up with something so wasn’t too worried.

“Perhaps I could get a woman from Sandyhills to come and look after the children while Margaret is away,” Ronald continued.

“I don’t think you will be able to get anyone,” said Jacobs and then matter-of-factly, “You can stay off work yourself and look after them if you like.”