The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 54

It was all so easy – no water to pump or carry, no logs to saw, no old black stove to coax into burning

The two electric rings on the cooker went on with the turn of a switch. Everything was bright and clean.

The floors were polished. Here and there rugs lay scattered around to give a splash of colour to the chalet. We didn’t really notice that the walls were thin, the paint cheap, what furniture there was made of matchwood, the gilt on the taps so thin that it would roll off before long.

Ever since that exploration in the small hours of an Albertan morning I have been able to understand the lure of pictures of ideal homes in glossy magazines.

To those who have had nothing, they must seem like some sort of heaven and no amount of telling them that it might be a false one would be likely to convince otherwise.

After we had examined everything Ronald said: “I think we should carry the boys in and put them straight into their bunks just as they are. I’m sure they’ll sleep.”

For once Ronald was wrong. His plan might have worked had it not been for Richard. As soon as we carried him into the chalet he was wide awake.

Excitement

“Where are we? he asked. “Joe’s Little Acre on the outskirts of Edmonton,” Ronald replied.

Richard accepted this without further question and began running about the house. He flushed the toilet, turned on the taps, tried the shower. We couldn’t say much. We had done the same ourselves.

Ronnie and Michael might have gone straight to sleep again had Richard let them but before long they were running around trying everything also.

Richard’s eyes were huge with excitement. For once Ronnie’s were even bigger and rounder. Six months was a long time in the life of a two-year-old.

He probably wouldn’t remember what life had been like in Scotland. While the children were exploring I fed and changed Mahri-Louise and helped Ronald assemble the cot. Suddenly I felt thirsty.

“How about a cup of coffee?” I asked. “Good idea!” said Ronald and plugged in the electric kettle.

I took down the mugs from a neat row of hooks. Ronald brought the basket containing coffee, sugar, milk and orange juice and Betty Jacobs’ remaining sandwiches in from the car.

It was all so easy – no water to pump or carry, no logs to saw, no old black stove to coax into burning.

After this meagre feast in the middle of the night, everyone was ready for bed. The boys suddenly became anxious to try out the bunks, squabbling over who would sleep in which bunk, everyone wanting a top one.

From nowhere in particular words came into my head – old words learned a long time ago: Bairnies settle doon at nicht Wi’ muckle foucht and din.

We made no delay either in slipping into the most comfortable bed we had slept in since coming to Canada.

Incentive

There, we slept the sleep of the very tired, the reassured and the hopeful.

Next morning Ronald had to be at our sponsor’s office at 10 o’clock sharp. It might take us some time to get into the centre of town, find the right address and get somewhere to park.

As soon as light filtered into the cabin the boys were up and came running through to the kitchencum-living room where I was feeding Mahri.

“Mummy, look out the window,” they said in unison, “there’s swings, a chute and a sandpit. Can we go out and play?”

I peered out the window. I had to sound strict with the boys. There wouldn’t be much time.

“If you have a shower, get dressed quickly and have your breakfast there may be time to go out for a little while but you’ll have to be quick. We must be away by nine.”

This worked wonders. Without the incentive of getting outside they might have spent hours in the shower.

Ronald made the breakfast while I got dressed. Fortunately, we had brought bacon, bread and cereal with us. At nine we were ready to go.

It was hard dragging the boys away from the small playground. They would have been quite happy to stay there all day.

We stopped at Joe’s cabin to hand in the key and pay the night’s lodgings. We were surprised it cost so much, although later we learned how cheap it was in comparison with the average motel prices.

Joe was chatty and seemed more curious about us than most Canadians had been. He asked us, directly, where we had come from, where we were bound for and what we intended doing.

Equally directly, Ronald told him. He had taken a liking to the man and Joe being a complete stranger, there could be nothing to lose by telling him our position – no reason for keeping anything back.

It turned out a good idea to tell him. Joe immediately put himself about to help us, asking us to hold on a minute while he looked for a street map of Edmonton.

Confidence

He brought one from his house and opened it up on the bonnet of the car. Ronald clambered out to study it. Joe showed him how best to get to the centre of the city and where to park to be closest to his destination.

He also gave us important dos and don’ts. If we disobeyed the strict traffic laws, he told us, we would soon be accosted by police.

We thanked Joe for his information and Ronald started up the engine once more. As a parting gesture, just as we were moving off, Joe shoved the map through Ronald’s open window.

“Here, you folks,” he said, “take this. Don’t want anything for it and if things don’t go according to plan you’ll sure be welcome back here.”

We were sad to leave in such a hurry. With our usual confidence that everything would be all right, we thought it highly unlikely that we would see Joe or his Little Acre again.

The boys all waved and we were off. And so began what was to become one of the most trying days of my life.

If it was bad for me and the boys, it was equally bad for Ronald – though in a different way.

(More on Monday.)