[this is just a short story that i had to write for English and i actually ended up liking it so read if you really want to.]
Sirens echoed from all around the yard as I rushed the little ones towards the shelter. It was just a metal dome shaped hole in the ground with sand bags surrounding it. A rocky, brick path lead towards a small, narrow door. Sophie, my youngest daughter dropped her raggedy stuffed bunny on the grass and I didn't want to turn around, having already reached the shelter door, until she started screaming. James, my oldest boy, sprinted the few steps and swept it up quickly and ran back into the cramped dusty box. Isabell, my little angel, was curled up in the corner with her knees to her chest leaning against Jess; her powder blue dress was all wrinkled around her legs. I did a short head count. James, Cyril, Jessamine, Isabell, and Sophie, my five beautiful children. They were supposed to be evacuated next week, out to my older sisters farm where they would be out of reach of the disastrous war, but they had refused to go the last few times it was advised but I was making them now. The only one missing was my husband, William Fairchild. I swallow back the lump in the back in my throat that came with the thought of my beloved Will and sat down in the dust, readying myself for the long night ahead of us.
I stayed awake throughout the night waiting for the peaceful sounds of morning. Left alone with my thoughts. The little ones slept most of the night besides being woken up by the occasional vibrations from contraptions falling from the heavens. We didn't have too much to worry about because we were more along the outskirts of the city rather than in the middle of the air raid. It was early morning when the sirens finally sounded the 'all clear' but they left a ringing hum in my ears.
Not wanting to wake the children, I quietly opened the door and walked back towards the house carrying a sleeping Sophie in my arms. I observed the stone dust covered yard and it looked like there had been minimal damage in this area.
I made bread with jam and set it on four little plates around our small dining room table and set Sophie down in her bed in my room so she could continue sleeping. I went back to fetch the others but I opened the back screen door to see them in single file, like little ducklings, walking across the yard and into the house. I watched as the younger kids eyes lit up by seeing their favorite breakfast but James went around the table setting out cups of water for each of the little ones. Before getting his own.
James was twelve. After the war started and his father was called to duty he became the man of the house, helping me prepare meals and clean or taking care of his younger siblings while I did those things.
Jessamine had started poking around her jam with her fingers and James set down his bread and grabbed a damp washcloth. "Jessie, stop mucking about and just eat the jam and bread that mum made us." He wiped her fingers and the spots on her cheek before sitting back down. Jessamine and Cyril were both six, twins, and they were inseparable. Even as babies they both went down for naps at the same time and would always be off in the back yard together playing in the garden. And little miss Sophie was only two years old. She was born not too long before the war had started. She got her father's ebony hair and brilliant blue eyes, same as James and Cyril. Jessamine had a lighter shade of blond hair that she refused to cut so it hung down to her bum and she inherited my emerald green eyes.
Sophie started to fuss from down the hall and I made my way to where she stood in the crib. When I got there I could hear a knock on the front door and the rusty squeal of the post slot as the elderly postman did his morning rounds. I sat Sophie down in her high chair and James started preparing her breakfast while I went to collect what had been delivered. A scattered stack of papers sprawled onto the rug in front of the door, just the usual post, but one caught two had caught my attention. One was in a pale blue envelope and had two strands of twine wrapped around it and the other was a dusty yellow one addressed to myself, Charlotte Fairchild. The thick blue one had nothing but our address on the front in familiar scratchy handwriting that made my heart leap from my chest.
"Mother, who are they from?" Cyril walked around the corner and asked, looking at the small stack of letters. "Cyril, my dear boy, go and get your brother and sister. Your father has sent a letter for us." He gasped and smacked a hand over his open mouth before running back into the little kitchen.
A chorus of cheers exploded from the kitchen table and everyone gathered around in the sitting room taking up the spots on the small lounge. Jessamine grabbed Sophie from me so I could read the out letter to them.
"My darling family," I started reading his words. "I miss you more every day I am away. I hope you are all safe and being good little angels for your mother." I continued reading of his adventures that the children found so entertaining. And by the end of it Jessamine had the idea to send a letter back to him, so while they all gathered around the kitchen table with a stack of papers and a pen I picked up the rest of the post and opened the unmarked letter.
'Dear Charlotte, I hope all is well in London during this unfortunate time. I know I haven't been in correspondence with you in several years and I fear you have forgotten all about me. Last night I had the idea of you coming to stay with me for the duration of the war, Henry and I would love the company. It is much safer in Canada rather than London and if funding is an issue I would be willing to cover most of the expense. Sincerely, Aunt Helen.' The letter was coming from an aunt of mine that lives in Halifax, I hadn't seen her since I was fourteen when she married a Canadian man and moved with him there. At first I couldn't fathom how someone could leave behind their home and family for love but after meeting William I couldn't imagine not following him to the ends of the earth.
What of this offer? I couldn't possibly leave everything, pack up the children and fly all the way to Canada, could I? I mean it would only be until the war ends and she was right, it would be completely safe there rather than in the middle of a war zone. I would have to talk to the children about it and she did offer to help with expenses. Plus if they had to leave to get away from the war then why not go with them instead of staying here alone.
The children were all buzzing about sending this letter to their father. I had asked is I could add something of my own in with their wordy rants on how they were doing and what has been happening since he left. They relayed the events of Sophie's second birthday to him through ink while I added my own page. I wrote him about the nights in the shelter and about how James has naturally taken on quite a bit of responsibility over his siblings. I mentioned Aunt Helen's offer to take us in until the war ends and how that would require us to move to Canada for a while.
It wasn't long before night came around once more and I prepared a decent sized meal for everyone so I could tell them about their choices we would all have to make. The radio played soothingly in the front room across the entranceway. "Now children, I have talk to you about something." I got their attention off of their plates and on to me. "You know that you are going to be staying at your aunt Wendy's farm next Thursday, and I wont be able to join you." Pouty faces stared back at me. "Except one of the letters in the today post was from your great aunt Helen, and she had this brilliant idea that we all go live with her while a war is still going on. So I would be able to go with you instead of you go alone." I explained
"Aunt Helen?" James asked considering none of them have actually met her, except for seeing her in old photographs.
"What makes her so great momma?" Jessamine asked innocently.
"It's not that she's great, Jessie, it just means that she's mums aunt." James corrected her so I could continue.
"The thing is, she lives an awful long way away. If we do go live with Aunt Helen then we would have to move to Canada, but it is very safe there."
"What about dad? What if he comes home early and we aren't here? He'll think we left him." James seemed cross at the idea and I could understand why since he knew just how far it would be.
"I wrote about the opportunity in the letters we sent earlier today, my dear, he would know where we went and when we would return to him. I wanted to hear what you all had to say about the move but I have made my decision and I will be writing back to Aunt Helen tomorrow." I said sternly.
"What about the money? Or what about Sophie? She doesn't even have a passport." He stood from the table and I saw in him the maturity of a man rather than a boy who shouldn't have to worry about these things.
"James, you needn't worry about those things, love. I will get everything figured out." I said calmingly and he sat back down, slowly nodded his head and went back to eating quietly.
We ate in peace for the rest of the meal, with the occasional random comment from one of the twins and some babbling nonsense from Sophie. James got the little ones to bed while I cleaned up the dishes and bathed Sophie. After everyone else was in bed I sat down and wrote a response for Aunt Helen.
'Dear Aunt Helen, I appreciate you offer; I have given it great consideration. I would need to get documentations prepared for the children and for myself before I would be able to even think about going, but I accept your offer and would be happy to live in Halifax with you and Uncle Henry for the duration of the war. I will send you another letter as to when I will be able to arrive. Sincerely, Charlotte.'
I put out the light beside me and headed off to sleep, trying to not wake up Sophie as she slept. Thank the heavens there were no sirens that night and we all slept soundly for the first time that week.
"Jessamine, love, will you please hurry up? We have to be at the train station soon." I yelled down the hall to where she sat on her bead saying goodbye to the house for the hundredth time.
She ran out of her room with a smile stretching ear to ear and her little trunk packed full of clothes and the corner of her blanket stuck out the side. "I'm coming momma." She had been getting excited about this trip the more I told her about what Canada looked like from what I remember of the pictures I had seen long ago.
Aunt Helen and I had been sending letters back and forth about going to live with her and she had sent money over for the expenses of the ship we would be taking there. I had gotten all the documentations that I needed last week and was ready to get going, haven grown sick of the more reoccurring air raids
James was still upset about leaving but as would any child that had to leave the only thing they've known. He hasn't spoken of it much and choses to ignore it. I had to pack his bag for him while he packed for the younger children to make sure they packed correctly. I managed to get everyone out the door.
The train station was relatively packed because of all the people sending their kids out of the city. We had to take a train to Liverpool where we would be boarding the ship heading to Canada.
The children had never seen the ocean so they thought I was the best thing ever to live on a boat for four days. I, for one, thought it was exhausting. Having to keep a constant eye on all the children, sleeping with five young kids in one cramped stateroom. I had made friends with a few other women on the ship. They all had their own stories, ranging from finding true love to immense loss and tragedy. When the boat arrived I didn't know what to think. I knew that lots of people in Canada didn't live off very much during these times but Aunt Helen assured me in advance that they lived relatively comfortably.
"Oh darlings! Come here. Give me a hug, the lot of you." Aunt Helen said with arms wide open when she spotted us in the crowed. I gave her a hug and shared a big smile. The children were hesitant from never meeting this woman but have her a hug anyway.
"How was your trip, Charlotte?" Uncle Henry asked as he came up behind Aunt Helen and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
"Very," I paused, thinking of the right word, "Interesting. Even though the boat ride was a little cramped there were a lot of women with individual stories of all sorts and the little ones made friends with some of the other children. Speaking of the children, James stood behind me, watching Aunt Helen and Uncle Henry carefully while Jessamine and Cyril looked off into space, watching all the people rush about.
"Anyway, shall we be off?" Aunt Helen asked while nodding at Michael. He grabbed my trunk from me so I could carry Sophie easily.
James was silent the whole way to the house. Jessamine and Cyril watched in awe as we went through the city. The house was small but another has one more room than our London house. It was a brick house that was only one level and when you add the decorations it showed the class that Aunt Helen loves. It didn't look like a man would even live here with how many lace doylies were placed around the front room.
"Follow me Charlotte, I'll show you where your room is and where the children will sleep." Henry said while taking my things for me. First was the children's room. It had a normal sized bed against one wall and a smaller one across from it with a nightstand in between the two. There was a trunk at the end of each bed where they could store their belongings. James walked in and sat on the small bed while the twins plopped down on the bed they would share.
Next was my room. It had an average sized mattress in the corner, a large wooden wardrobe across from it, and a rocking chair with little cushions on the seat beside a little crib where Sophie would sleep, as well as a small nightstand by the head of the bed. I started to unpack my things and fill the wardrobe with my clothes. I also managed to unpack Sophie's few things before Aunt Helen had asked for my assistance with preparing dinner. James barely ate that night, saying that he didn't have the appetite. I frowned at him but excused him from the meal.
That night I dreamt of London. It was more of a memory, a recollection of the first time I met Will. I was picking up some produce for my mother from the market and I as I turned to leave I ran straight into him, dropping my collection of apples and tomatoes. I knelt down to pick them up at the same time he did and our heads smacked together. We looked up and our eyes met. My pale grey ones losing even more color in comparison to his bight blue eyes. His dark hair was messy in the most perfect way and his curls fell just above his brow. He continued to pick up my belongings while I straightened my skirt. When I looked back down at me, he was on one knee with a tomato in his raised hand. "I don't suppose you would want to join me for a meal tonight?" his charming offer was irresistible. We went to a little shop and ate and after he took me dancing where we dance the night away.
We have been in Canada for a handful of month now. It had started snowing a few weeks ago and it covered the ground with a blanket of white. Frost covered the bare tree branches and some of the ponds have started to freeze over. We had snow in London but most of the rain would wash it away overnight. James had adjusted to being in Canada, having made friends with the neighborhood boys and this one girl named Tessa, with long chocolate brown hair and matching dark eyes.
It was coming up to Sophie's third birthday and I decided to make a small cake for her. My apron was dusted in a thin layer of flour when there was a knock on the door. Aunt Helen knew I was busy so she answered the door but I didn't pay any attention until I heard someone say, 'my condolences' and the door shut.
Footsteps softly made their way to the kitchen. I clanked back and saw Aunt Helen with a shocked look on her face and for once in her life she seemed speechless. "What is it Aunt Helen? I asked when I saw a yellow letter in her hand. "Was that the post?" I tried again when she didn't answer.
She walked towards me slowly and untied my apron and pulled it off over my head. She grabbed both my hand and stuck them in the sink, running water over them like she would if she were assisting a child with washing up. She lead me back to the kitchen table and sat me down in front of the folded up yellow paper. And she covered her mouth with a slender hand that showed her age better then her face.
I cautiously unfolded the letter and saw the lines of ink typed across the page. 'Mrs. Charlotte A. Fairchild,
The secretary of war desires to express his deep regret that your husband, William Fairchild was reported killed in action over Germany. You have our deepest regards.'
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