Alenoushka
Towards the end of the week the “nominated” children left to go to their friends and relatives. “Goodbye, Norah,” said Dulcie hesitantly, as Miss Carmichael helped her carry her luggage to the door of Falconer House. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?” She ran her tongue over her raw lips; her rash was worse.
“I’m sure you will,” said Miss Carmichael. “The Milnes can find out from us where Norah is living, and there’s going to be a party for all of you at Christmas.”
Norah walked with Dulcie as far as the door and waved, surprised at feeling sad. Goosey and Loosey were a trial, but they were faces from home.
“When will Gavin and I go?” she asked Miss Carmichael that night. “Do you know who we’ll be living with?”
“Not yet, but we’ll match you up with someone as soon as possible. We need your beds for the next batch of children and school has already started. But don’t worry, the response has been tremendous.”
That was on Thursday. On Saturday, Norah heard her name mentioned as she came down the corridor to their room. Miss Carmichael was helping Mrs. Ellis change the sheets.
“They’ve decided on a place for Norah and Gavin,” Miss Carmichael was saying.
Norah froze and listened intently. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but this was important. She couldn’t catch the name Miss Carmichael gave in answer to Mrs. Ellis’s question.
“The family only wanted a boy,” Miss Carmichael continued, “but they’ve persuaded them to take Norah as well. I do hope she’ll settle in. Gavin is so sweet, but Norah can be difficult. She’s such a loner, it isn’t natural.”
Norah was enraged. Gavin was the difficult one, not her! Did Miss Carmichael enjoy changing his sheets and washing out his pyjamas every day?
“I thought they’d be sent to the country,” said Mrs. Ellis. “They come from a small village, don’t they?”
“I would have thought that would be more suitable, but apparently the woman was very specific about having as young a boy as possible—and Gavin’s the only five-year-old left. I shouldn’t be saying this, but I imagine they couldn’t very well refuse her, she has so much money.”
Norah shuffled her feet to let them know she was approaching.
“There you are, Norah!” Miss Carmichael smiled. As with Mrs. Pym, Norah had the feeling she felt sorry for her. “I have wonderful news! A family called Ogilvie would be delighted to have you and Gavin be their guests for the war. There are two ladies—Mrs. Ogilvie, who’s a widow, and her daughter. You’ll be staying right here in Toronto—isn’t that nice? You’re lucky—the Ogilvies are very well off and you’ll be living in a grand house in Rosedale. What do you think of that?”’
It was far too much information to absorb at one time. Besides, the Ogilvies didn’t want her—just Gavin. All Norah could say was, “When do we go?”
“Someone will pick you up tomorrow after lunch. Now come and help me pack your things.”
EARLY SUNDAY MORNING the children were taken to church. The night before, Norah’s dwindling group had been enlarged by a contingent of evacuees fresh from the ship. Norah felt sorry for them as they trooped out after supper for their medicals. At least she was finally leaving, however frightening her new home sounded.
In church the minister prayed for the British people “bravely carrying on their struggle alone.” Norah prayed too, naming each member of her family carefully. She tried not to think of what they would be doing. Instead she imagined a family called Ogilvie; her chest grew heavy.
When they got back to Hart House they were told that a librarian had arrived to tell them stories before lunch.
“You take Gavin in,” said Miss Carmichael. “I have all these new children to deal with.”
Stories sounded babyish, but Norah took Gavin’s hand and went into the room they used for recreation. Children were scattered all over, playing with toys and puzzles. A small woman with very bright eyes sat on a low stool in front of the fireplace, watching them calmly.
“Once upon a time there was a farmer and his wife who had one daughter, and she was courted by a gentleman …” she began slowly. Her vibrant voice cut through the chatter. As she carried on, the children drew closer and squatted on the floor in front of her.
When she reached the point where the people in the story were all wailing in the cellar, some of the children began to smile. By the time the man was trying to jump into his trousers, they were giggling. Gavin laughed for the first time since they’d left England, and Norah felt a chuckle rise inside her.
“… and that was the story of ‘The Three Sillies,’” the woman concluded.
“Tell us another!” demanded a fat little girl called Emma.
“Once upon a time Henny Penny was picking up corn when—whack!—an acorn fell on her head. ‘Goodness, gracious me!’ said Henny Penny. ‘The sky is falling! I must go and tell the king.’”
She came to the part about “Goosey Loosey,” and Norah grinned, looking around for Dulcie. Then she remembered she had gone.
There was a satisfied silence in the room after Foxy Loxy had finished off his witless victims. “Of course, the sky wasn’t really falling,” said Emma knowingly.
“It is at home!” declared Johnnie. “It’s falling down all over England, and that’s why we had to go away.”
The librarian looked startled, but only for a second. She showed them how to do a game with their fingers called “Piggy Wig and Piggy Wee” Then she told them “The Three Little Pigs”. All the younger children huffed and puffed with the wolf, even Gavin. They moved closer to her and one of them stroked her shoes. Emma wriggled onto her knee.
“And now, I want to tell you the story of Alenoushka and her brother.” Her tone had become sad and solemn and the rollicking atmosphere changed to hushed expectancy. “Once upon a time there were two orphan children, a little boy and a little girl. Their father and mother were dead and they were all alone. The little boy was called Ivanoushka and the little girl’s name was Alenoushka. They set out together to walk through the whole of the great wide world. It was a long journey they set out on, and they did not think of any end to it, but only of moving on and on …”
The back of Norah’s neck prickled. She was pulled into the story as if by a magnet and she became Alenoushka, trying to stop her little brother from drinking water from the hoofprints of animals, and desperate when he did and turned into a little lamb.
The other children were as spellbound as she. They sat like stones while the rich voice went on, forgetting the storyteller in their utter absorption in the story itself.
A heavy stone is round my throat,
Silken grass grows through my fingers,
Yellow sand lies on my breast.
NORAH DIDN’T REALIZE her eyes had welled with tears until one rolled down her cheek.
The story ended happily. Alenoushka was rescued from a witch’s spell, and when she threw her arms around the lamb he became her brother once more. “And they all lived happily together and ate honey every day, with white bread and new milk.”
The haunting voice stopped and the room was still. Norah’s body was loose and relaxed. She felt the rough rug under her legs and Gavin’s warm thigh pressing against hers.
The librarian stood up and left the room without acknowledging them or saying goodbye. It was as if the stories had used her to tell themselves. The children got up quietly and went in to lunch.
NORAH’S EASE ENDED after they’d eaten. She and Gavin, dressed in cleaned and pressed clothes, waited in the front hall.
“Where are we going to live now?” whispered Gavin.
Norah was struggling to secure her hair-slide. “What do you mean, silly? We haven’t lived anywhere yet.”
“Yes, we have. First we lived in the hostel. Then we lived on the boat with Mrs. Pym and then we lived here with Miss Carmichael. Now where are we going to live?”
“With a family called Ogilvie who have a posh house. You know that, Gavin, we’ve already told you.”
Miss Carmichael came up to say goodbye. “Now, be sure to behave like polite guests and everything will be fine. Someone will come and visit you in a while to see how you’re getting along.”
The front door opened and into the hall stepped a plain, plump woman. She wore a brown linen suit and a beige hat; her beige hair was twisted into a tidy knot and her brown eyes looked anxious. “How do you do? I am Miss Ogilvie. And this must be Norah and Gavin. I’m very pleased to meet you both.” Her voice sounded more frightened than pleased.
Norah shook the woman’s limp hand. It was covered with a spotless beige glove.
“I want to stay here,” whimpered Gavin, hiding behind Miss Carmichael.
“Off you go, Gavin.” She handed him a large boiled sweet. This was such a surprise that Gavin sucked it busily instead of crying.
Miss Carmichael kissed them both. “I’ll see you at the Christmas party,” she smiled.
Miss Ogilvie led them out to a sleek grey car. “Perhaps you’d prefer to sit beside each other in the back,” she said hesitantly.
Norah watched the university become smaller and smaller behind them. Then she turned around and watched the neat back of Miss Ogilvie’s hair as they drove wordlessly through the still Sunday streets to their new home.