Ronald glowered but said nothing, but I knew what he was thinking. All this charity was hurtful to his pride

Iwondered how long we would have to wait. All of us were clad in winter coats and were beginning to feel the heat. The high wooden warehouse was surprisingly warm. Besides those of us who had disembarked from the Sylvania, there were a number of Canadian women in the building. They wore no coats and were mostly middle-aged to elderly.

Some wore unremarkable skirts and jerseys. Others wore jeans and trousers even although their figures were sometimes far from elegant.

This was a surprising sight for us coming from douce Scotland where, in those days, few women wore trousers and especially not older women.

Some women were in uniform, the most recognizable being the maroon and navy garb of the Salvation Army with its long coat and old-fashioned bonnet.

All these women from church and charity began to bear down on us – especially those of us with children.

“Welcome to Canada. We sure hope you like it here. Is there anything we can help you with. How about the children. Anything you need?”

Captivated

As they moved on, going from one to the other they each gave us something for the children – a small toy, book, miniature packet of cereal.

The boys were captivated by the bright white, red and blue individual packets with their tantalizing pictures of crunchy flakes being pored into a plate, something they hadn’t seen before in austere Scotland.

Michael started to open his packet of flakes. “No Michael, not just now.” My voice was firm and I managed to persuade him otherwise.

“Look,” I said pointing to the picture on the packet. “You’re meant to put them in a plate and eat them with milk and sugar just like cornflakes at home. They’re much better that way. Wait till we get on the train.”

And I stowed them away among the hand luggage. To distract the boys from the gaudy packets I opened up one of the books they had been given.

A story in bright pictures of animals, gophers and coyotes, neither of which they had ever heard of before. I told them they would probably see them in the fields round their new home.

It was a couple of hours or more before Ronald returned. I noticed his angry expression as soon as he entered.

“Damned woman!” he exploded. “What a nasty piece of work she was!

“Most people took about 10 minutes to get through customs once they got their luggage but she had to go through everything of ours. I think she took delight in knocking me.”

“I wondered where you’d got to,” I replied. “I was watching for you and saw all the others come through.

“Never mind, you’re here now, that’s the main thing, and we’ve been well looked after.”

Ronald suddenly noticed all the extra things I had accumulated while he was away. “Where on earth did all this come from?” he said.

“A host of do-good ladies,” I replied, “from various churches and institutions.”

Ronald glowered but said nothing. I knew what he was thinking. All this charity was hurtful to his pride and I didn’t realize, until later, how bruised it had been by the customs woman or how she had shaken his confidence.

“lt was very kind of them,” I said. “They welcomed us to Canada and asked if there was any way they could help us.

Baggage

I couldn’t think of anything at the time but I can now,” I laughed. “We need help to transport all this extra baggage.”

Ronald said nothing and I quickly changed the subject.

“What now?” I asked, “where do we go from here?” “To the railroad station,” he said. I noticed he had already changed the terminology.

The station buildings were bright and airy, modern and warm to the point of being stuffy, another new experience for us after the draughty Scottish stations to which we were accustomed.

On entering we all got a surprise when the high glass doors magically opened in front of us.

The train for Montreal was due to leave in the evening. It was now about lunch time.

Ronald and I debated whether we should explore Halifax but decided it was too difficult an operation with the children and luggage.

Also, by this time, I had a sore throat and it was severely cold out there. We lunched on sandwiches, coffee and juice from the cafeteria.

The enormous sandwiches bore little resemblance to those back home.

Huge by comparison, they were filled with crisp lettuce, juicy tomatoes, and the tastiest of cheese.

The afternoon passed pleasantly enough. There were other children for ours to play with and the toys they had all been given kept them happy for hours.

Most of the passengers that had been on board the Sylvania were waiting for the same train as we were, so we had no lack of company.

Eventually a loudspeaker announcement told us that our train was ready to board.

Again those magic doors opened without us having to lay a finger on them.

Mystified

The boys were mystified and wanted to go back into the waiting area to have it happen again.

After the warmth of the waiting room the cold air hit us all the more severely.

Once through the doors we found ourselves surprisingly close to the snow-encrusted rails on which the train hissed patiently.

We could have touched them. There was no raised platform as at home.

I looked up, up, up at the train. It seemed at least twice as tall as any of the trains back home.

It made me feel small and for the first time it got through to me that my usual scale of size must change.

In this huge country perhaps everything was bigger.

I looked along the length of the train. It disappeared into the blackness, seeming to go on forever. Its brass bell swayed and clanged loudly in temperatures well below zero.

The sound of the bell seemed to have an impersonal, hollow ring to it.

For once the boys were overawed. Ronald lifted them up on to the iron steps and into the train without a word being said. (More tomorrow.)