The Leaving

I think I knew all along they planned to move to Canada,  Allan could finish his education and be close to his own mother.  They told me they would bring me over to visit, and if I liked it, they would be happy to have me come and live with them.  I wasn’t sure how I would feel about that, but I tried to put a good face on it all. 

The time came all too soon.  Allan would stay in London, awaiting orders to be shipped off, and Eileen and the children would leave on the Aquitania, a troop ship that had some room for the so-called ‘war brides’ and the Red Cross ladies who would look after them.  Eileen was to go to Toronto and stay with my sister Daisy and husband Fred until Allan joined them and moved them to his home in Montreal.  Eileen seemed excited about this new adventure, but little Jean, almost four now, moped and clung to me as much as she could.

At seven-thirty on their last day with me, I was in the kitchen, setting the round wooden table with my best rose-patterned china for the special breakfast I had used my last coupons on.

Thinking about the last few years and the changes they had brought, I couldn’t help but shake my head – Eileen had married so quickly, and the babies came so fast – three in four years.  And now they were leaving, probably forever.  I had always known she would marry, of course, but hoped it would be Joe, who lived only one house away.  I was brewing tea, and trying not to think about the lonely days ahead, when Edie Maidment from next door rapped on the door.  She had a little parcel of sweets for Eileen to give the children.  

“Chin up, old thing,” she told me, “At least the ruddy war’s over.  I’ll pop over this afternoon for a cuppa.”  As Edie slipped out the door, I could hear the girls getting up from bed, and turned to look at the stairs.  The girls were climbing down the steep stairs, being very careful, for there had been one or two falls.  Jean was scolding her sister for being slow.  “Come on, Wee!”  She left Mary to her own devices and came to me, burying her little face in my old blue-flowered apron.  She whispered, “Nanny, I want to stay with you.”  I could only hug her and say we can’t always have what we want. 

       As Eileen got the children seated, bibs tied on and breakfast started I could see she wanted to avoid talking with me, and I understood.  We got the children dressed and waiting by the gate for the bus that would take them to Portsmouth and their ship.  As they started to board Jean lost control and had a proper tantrum.  She had to be bodily carried to her seat, and I could hear her calling “Nanny, Nanny!” as the bus left.  I watched until the dust was completely cleared.  I would save my tears until bedtime.  At least the war was over, and I knew I should be glad.