Toronto,” he called out. “End of the line. Everyone out here.”
All around her, passengers rose from their seats and pulled boxes and suitcases from overhead racks. Laura picked up her book and placed it in her knapsack. The conductor stopped beside her, reached up and pulled down a small brown suitcase. “There you are, miss,” he said. “Enjoy your stay in Toronto. Is someone meeting you?”
“My grandfather,” said Laura in a small voice, wondering for a second if indeed Grandpa would be there to meet her.
The conductor helped her down the steps, and then she was swept up with the stream of passengers making their way down a flight of stairs. They climbed up another flight into an enormous lobby where hundreds of people were milling about. Men in uniform—soldiers with khaki sacks thrown over their shoulders, air force men like her father in their blue-grey suits, and even sailors in their white caps and bell-bottom trousers—were everywhere, laughing, walking with their arms around young women who wore long faces and looked close to tears.
“Laura, over here!” she heard from somewhere amid the sea of faces. She looked around. There was Grandpa coming toward her wearing a blue wool sweater and the black cap he always wore to cover his thinning hair. His eyebrows and moustache were as bushy as ever, but a bit whiter than she’d remembered from last summer. She ran with clumsy steps toward him holding her suitcase in one hand and her knapsack in the other. “Grandpa!”
He stooped down to kiss her on the cheek. The roughness of his moustache and the faint smell of liniment he used for sore muscles were comforting. He took her suitcase and looked Laura up and down, as if inspecting her. Familiar crinkles formed around his eyes.
“Well, well,” he said. “My only granddaughter is growing up so quickly I can hardly keep up with her. Let me see now, where do you come up to? Stand up to my shoulder here.” He stood at attention, and she stood next to him. He craned his neck, peering down at her. “You haven’t reached my shoulder yet, but you’re well above my elbow. That’s—what—about four or five inches since last summer?”
Laura grinned and nodded. He picked up her suitcase again and took her by the arm. “Let’s get ourselves out of here. Ever since the war started, this station has been a madhouse with the enlisted men coming through from all over. Because of all the training camps around southern Ontario, they’re talking about reducing train services to civilians even more than they’ve done already.” He smiled down at her. “But thank heavens that hasn’t happened yet, and you’ve been able to visit me.”
Grandpa’s hand was steady and firm on her arm. Looking down at his big feet padding next to hers, she noticed white and brown dog hairs on the cuffs of his trousers.
“Do you still have Sam, Grandpa?”
“I sure do. You’ll see him as soon as we get you back to the house.”
Outside on the street, Laura was amazed at the height of the buildings and the bustle of the street. A man in a maroon uniform stood outside the brass doors of the Royal York Hotel. Car after car passed in front of them in a haze of fumes. Horns honked. A milk wagon drawn by a heavy dray horse drove by, the clip-clop sound blending strangely with honking car horns. A group of soldiers lounged, whistling and laughing loudly, on large piles of baggage, their brown caps set back on their heads.
“We’re lucky to still have taxis,” Grandpa said, leading Laura toward a line of red and yellow cabs. “Now that we have the new gasoline rationing law, who knows how much longer they’ll be able to stay in business?”
It was a relief to be in the safety of a taxi. There were so many people and cars and traffic noise! She thought longingly of the quiet streets of Rocky Falls, where friendly people always said hello and cars stopped if you wanted to cross the road. And just beyond the streets were the country roads that beckoned. She and Peter biked for hours there last summer.
“How is your mother?” Grandpa asked gently as the taxi turned onto Lakeshore Boulevard.
“Fine,” said Laura, not knowing what else to say. She looked outside instead, at the lake.
There was silence for a moment and then he said, his voice quiet, “Any news from your dad?”
For the first time since she had arrived, Laura felt a catch in her throat. “I got a letter from him,” she said, her voice shaky. She pressed her fingers into the palm of her hand. She didn’t want to cry in front of her grandfather. “On thin blue paper. He folded it so that it made its own envelope. He’s in London. That’s where the King and Queen and the princesses live. He didn’t say if he’s seen them yet.”
“What did he say then?”
“He said the food is pretty boring. They just have dried mutton and Brussels sprouts to eat. He said he wished he could have a hot dog sometimes, and some of Mom’s chocolate cake. And he said people use funny words like ‘lorry’ instead of ‘truck’, and ‘cinema’ instead of ‘movie theatre’.” She swallowed and looked down at the knapsack on her lap.
Grandpa pulled at his sweater sleeve and looked over at her with a twinkle in his eye. “And if you called this a ‘sweater’ over in England, people would laugh at you.”
“Why?” asked Laura.
“They’d say, That’s not a sweater. It’s a cardigan. And do you know what they call pullover sweaters? They call them jumpers.”
“Jumpers?! How do you know that, Grandpa”
“Why, didn’t you know? I was over there during the last war. The ‘Great War’ we called it. I suppose if we’re going to call the war that’s going on now the Second World War, we’ll have to call that one the First World War.”
Laura’s mouth hung open. By now she had forgotten her sadness. “Were you in the same place as my dad is?” she asked eagerly.
“No, I was in the army, not the air force. I was stationed in a field hospital in the south of England, where they brought some of the wounded lads across the English Channel.”
“Did you see soldiers fighting?”
“No, I just saw the evidence of the fighting. Men in pretty bad shape. But your dad now, in London—one never knows when the Blitz will start up again—”
Laura felt Grandpa shift beside her. She looked over at him. His mouth was open, as if he was about to say more, then he closed it and sighed. After another moment, he asked, “How’s school?”
“Fine,” she said. “I got a hundred percent in spelling last week. We have a girls’ softball team now. I’m pretty good at pitching.”
“That’s my granddaughter,” he laughed, “a scholar and a sportswoman—oh, and speaking of pitching, look here.” He pointed out the window to a large stadium set against the lake. “That’s the Sunnyside Stadium. The Sunnyside Ladies’ softball team plays there. They play a fine game of softball. Crowds come from all over to watch them.” He smiled down at her. “Maybe you’ll be one of the Sunnyside Ladies some day.”
Before Laura had a chance to answer, he went on, “And look up ahead.” A collection of huge buildings with domes and arches and towers were clustered together, like a group of castles. “See, there are the gates of the C.N.E. just ahead.”
“What does C.N.E. stand for?”
