what that was like for Fred. Norman was sent away shortly after Fred. Norman was sent to a farm school. It was better than being put in Borstal. They took him down to Castle Howard,[6] near York. That was not too far away, maybe only about a hundred miles, but it might as well be at the other end of the earth. She knew that she would never be able to find the money to visit him.
Norman sent a letter home right away saying that Castle Howard was like a huge beautiful palace. Imagine, they gave him all new clothes and boots — nice new working clothes and a new suit for Sundays. He wrote that he was enjoying learning about farming. She had a difficult time believing him though since Norman was always trying to make everybody happy. She could tell that he missed his family, and she missed both her boys, more than anyone would ever know.
Winifred’s worst fears had come true, and a shudder went through her when she thought of how she had lied to the landlord about having only three children. Was this God’s way of punishing her? Could her lies have anything to do with making it come true? How could this be happening? Losing six of her children in just under a fortnight. It wasn’t fair. She simply could not make ends meet with Fred and Norman gone. It pained her to see her children’s hungry faces, their bare feet and their ragged clothes. Something had to be done, but what could she do? Nothing. Not by herself at any rate. She needed help, but they were offering her the wrong kind of help. Maybe her children would be better off, but it did not seem right.
“Okay, Audrey, come over here, it’s your turn.” The man’s voice showed his impatience as he turned to Winifred, “Where is your other daughter? Marjorie, isn’t it?”
Winifred sighed, “Yes. She should be along any minute.”
“Well, for your sake, she better be,” he snapped at her, flaunting his authority. “I told you to have them all here! The medical examiner has taken out time from his busy schedule.”
Winifred’s voice cracked as she assured this nasty man that she told her children to come straight home after school. She turned and asked Joyce to run along and see if she could find her sister. Joyce started to get up, but stopped when she heard the door. Winifred looked down and saw Marjorie standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Marjorie had been sitting on the stoop, unaware of what was going on in her flat. Something was different about this day, though. It was hard to place at first and then she realized — it was too quiet. Lawrence and Jean were usually playing noisily, running up and down the stairs to the flat, shrieking with laughter, happy that school was out and everyone was coming home. Kenny often played on the sidewalk or in the back alley with some of the neighbourhood boys. But no one was around today. She turned the door handle, expecting the little ones to charge down to greet her; instead, as she stepped over the sill, the sound of strange men’s voices startled her.
Maybe it was her father! She could hardly remember the last time she saw him. It was years ago, she was probably only six or seven. A funny feeling erupted in her stomach and made her head spin a bit. Would she like her father? Would he like her? She could barely remember him. Would he recognize her? She did not recognize the strange voices. Maybe this was not her father. Maybe it was the landlord and they have to move again. She liked it here now and the possibility of changing schools again made her mad. As Marjorie closed the door and stepped inside, she thought of turning around and running away and hiding until the coast was clear. She could see her mum at the top of the stairs. Lawrence and Jean were clinging to her skirt. Her mum’s face told her that something was terribly wrong. Marjorie reached for the door handle.
Marjorie’s Commonwealth emigration form. Note Marjorie’s own signature on the bottom of the sheet.
University of Liverpool Archives, Special Collections Branch, Fairbridge Archives, Arnison Family Records, D296.E1.
“Is that Marjorie?” The strange voice filtered down to her.
“Yes, it is,” Winifred replied. “Marjorie, come up here will you?” Her mum’s tone left no room for argument. Marjorie slowly climbed the stairs. The tension in the room was familiar yet it held something different.
“Marjorie, come over here.” The speaker’s gaze made her nervous. “I need to ask you some questions.”
Marjorie slowly walked over towards the man, but stopped a few feet away from him and dropped her boots. Nervously, she demanded to know what he wanted. She looked around the room. Joyce and Phyllis were sitting on the mattress. Kenny was lying on his stomach on the floor, rolling a marble against the wall. Back and forth it went, over and over again. Audrey sat quietly in the corner on the orange box, hugging her ragdoll. She was talking to a second strange man. He had a black bag beside him. Lawrence and Jean quietly clung to their mum’s skirt. For a brief moment, the only noise in the room was the sound of the marble.
“Well, come over here!” The man’s voice made Marjorie jump, and she walked over to him. “Do you wear eye glasses?” he asked her.
“Well, you can see for yourself that I don’t.” Marjorie was having trouble understanding what he wanted.
“Marjorie!” her mum snapped. “You don’t need to be rude. Just answer his questions.”
“What is your school standing?” he continued. Marjorie noticed that he was writing her answers down on a long form.
She told him it was 4C and asked again why he was asking her these questions. Puzzled, Marjorie wondered if he going to make them move to another school. She shouldn’t have yelled at those girls at her school. He looked at her and continued his questions. Marjorie bravely approached him and glanced at the long form in front of him.
She could see her name and birth date at the top of the page. She immediately told him that he had her birthday wrong. That it should be 1926, not 1925. She looked at her mum for reassurance, and told him that she was ten on her last birthday and that she would not be eleven until September.
Again, he did not answer her but kept on writing on the forms. Marjorie started to remind him that her birthdate needed fixing, but he told her to go over and see the doctor. When the doctor finished, he asked Marjorie if she could sign her name. She told him that of course she could, she was not a little kid. He handed her a fancy fountain pen and urged her to do a good job and not to smudge the ink. The pen had little bands on it that looked like gold. She had never touched such a beautiful pen before.
Marjorie’s Fairbridge farm school emigration form. Marjorie’s mother was forced to “hereby hand over the child Marjorie” and thus had to give up her custody of her daughter.
University of Liverpool Archives, Special Collections Branch, Fairbridge Archives. Arnison Family Records, D296.E1.
The doctor passed the four medical forms over to his associate, who then walked over to Winifred, shuffling his papers, “Just your signature now and I’ll be gone. Can you sign your name?” He handed the papers over.
“Of course I can. I may be poor, but I am not stupid.” Marjorie was alarmed by the change in her mother’s face.
“Where?” Winifred’s voice cracked as she blindly looked at the pages.
“Here, and on the bottom of all four — in the same place.” He grabbed up each paper as she finished. He told her that was all he needed for now. He bid them all good day and warned Winifred to make certain that she put the children
