Ethel would promise her lots of letters and clippings of pictures from the local newspaper. In all of this, Ethel prayed that God would bridge the space between them and keep them bonded.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she felt more peaceful—at least about some things. Pleasant scenes of gardens and cottages sped quickly by, and soon the gliding of the train along the tracks eased her into a restful sleep.
Ethel and Mum planned the farewell meal; they organized games and a few gifts for the family gathering. After checking to be sure the loo, attached to the back of the house, had fresh tissue paper, Ethel watched Mum walk past her geraniums and climbing rosebushes, tilting her head, obviously enjoying their familiar fragrance. Pa had tidied the garden and set out a few chairs in case anyone wanted to sit there. Everything was prepared.
The small house on Goat Lane filled to overflowing onto the front step. The sun warmed the air after a fresh rain, giving a comfortable temperature for the children to run in and out. Mum moved to and from the scullery, bringing food to the main living room to place on the big table. All nine of Ethel’s siblings, from five years of age to mid twenties, bantered back and forth, making entertaining conversation, finishing each other’s statements and sometimes overlapping their voices—chaos, but so like home at the best of times.
A couple of Ethel’s sisters had asked to speak on behalf of the rest of the family, promising lots of laughter and tears to fill the afternoon. Ethel rehearsed the words she’d say, but she couldn’t even practice them without crying. Squaring her shoulders, acknowledging that the task ahead would be difficult, she took a deep breath.
“You’ll be sure to write to us, Etty,” Ethel’s sister Florence insisted. “I’m soon going into service, but I’ll get home to read your letters.”
“I will,” Ethel said. “I’ll write to all of you, and you can pass the letters around. And somebody please write and tell me all about Mabel’s wedding. She’ll be too busy being married to write…” The family’s laughter rose above the rest of the words.
Mabel stood and bowed gracefully. “And that big day will happen on October 25th at the register office. I wish you were going to be here, Ethel, but I’ll excuse you, only because I’ll have my namesake here to carry the rings.” Everybody looked over at Elsie, who smiled back. “Remember,” Mabel continued, “my full name is Mabel Elsie Kemp. But folks, we’re here because of Ethel, so let’s ask her for a word.”
All eyes turned towards Ethel. She took a deep breath and looked toward Mum and Pa and then across her siblings’ faces one at a time as if savouring each expression. Moving closer to Elsie, she said, “The time has come for me to leave for Canada, and Elsie will stay here with Mum and the rest of you.” She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I can hardly bear it.”
“I cannot imagine how heartbroken you are, having to go alone,” Mabel said, reaching out to take Ethel’s hand.
“Maybe when she can travel, one of us’ll get to take her over,” Ethel’s 17-year-old brother, Ernie, added.
“We’ll hold you to that, son,” Pa said. “Even though it makes me sad at the thought, I know there will be great opportunity for you in Canada.” He moved over and made room for the little girls to stand in front of him. “In the meantime, Horace’ll take good care of you, Etty. He’ll put you on the ship and give you a fine send-off.”
Ethel smiled over at Horace, who looked back with a comical grin, and said, “And for you, dear brother, I’ll be eternally grateful. I didn’t relish walking those Liverpool docks on my own.” She looked back at Pa and then to Ernie adding, “Nothing will please me more than getting Elsie over and seeing whoever brings her.” Ethel put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “And, you’ve got a bed however long you want to stay.” She held her breath to keep from sobbing. Silence filled the room.
“We love you, big sister,” Edith said. “We’re going to miss you,”
“Come on now, everybody. I know you’ve all shed a river of tears, and there’s time for more later,” Mum said, “but right now, the food’s hot and waiting. Let’s make this a feast to remember.” Turning, she continued, “Pa, please ask God to bless the food, Ethel, her journey…and to sanction all these tears.”
Silence fell around them as if hemming them in. The children moved in beside their parents, and some of them held hands. Ethel felt the preciousness of the moment as she gripped her mother’s arm with one hand and laid the other on top of Elsie’s soft curls. Pa cleared his voice and began to speak softly. Ethel could hear the love he had for his family woven through each word. The hum of voices in the final amen brought closure to more than the prayer.
The next morning Ethel looked across the breakfast table at Elsie turning her spoon around and around in her porridge. How discerning this child was—perhaps not capable of putting her feelings into words but showing them in her actions. Life over the last month had left Ethel feeling as if she too were turning in circles from one emotion to another.
She fixed her eyes on Elsie’s face and thought how people always remarked on their likeness. She wasn’t surprised at their comments, because those same people had said for years that Ethel was a mirror image of her mother. She knew it to be true as she looked over at Mum and smiled. Those beautiful facial features framed by her lovely soft dark hair resembled Ethel’s own countenance in many ways. Three generations, and so much alike.
There was a lot to say in these last few minutes before Ethel would leave for the train station, yet the silence allowed these deep thoughts to penetrate her mind. Looking at Elsie and then back to her mother, Ethel knew she’d see Elsie again, but the awful truth surfaced that leaving Mum was different. Saying goodbye to Pa earlier when he went to work had almost crushed Ethel, and now the same turmoil between what she wanted and what she must do divided her loyalties again. She doubted if she’d ever get back to England in her parents’ lifetime, and she knew they wouldn’t make the trip to Canada.
Breaking the silence, Ethel looked for words to move her past this moment of despair. “I’ll write letters to you both while I’m still on the boat and post them as soon as I land.”
“That will be lovely, dear,” Mum said. “The whole family will gather to read them.” Tears ran down her reddened cheeks.
“And you, luv.” Ethel reached over to Elsie, lifted her from the chair and drew her close. “Come and sit on your mummy’s knee.” She turned her face towards her own. “What shall I send you when I get to Canada?”
“Can you send me kisses?” Elsie asked.
“Do you mean those chocolate candy kisses?” Ethel laughed. “For your sweet tooth?”
“Yes, ’n some of these,” Elsie said quietly and placed her fingers on Ethel’s lips.
Ethel pushed her face into Elsie’s hair, more to hide her own tears than to whisper. “I’ll find a way to send you something special, sweetheart, with Mummy’s kisses all over it.”
She straightened and glanced at the kitchen clock ticking away precious minutes and then looked at Mum. Ethel’s bottom lip trembled. She wanted to bawl—just rest her head on the table as if she were alone and cry until there were no tears left.
Just then, Horace came into the living room, twirling his peak cap between his fingers. “We’ve got a bit of a trip ahead of us, Etty. Are you ready to go?”
“I think I am,” Ethel replied.
