Marjorie sat on the edge of her seat on the bus. She did not want a new life! She wanted to get away. Oh, where was her mum? Her father might be in London. Could she find him? She would run up to him and beg him to take her home. Back home with her mum, not back to the Middlemore Home. She looked at the faces of all the men as they walked along the sidewalks. She looked at each man who boarded the bus. Her search was hopeless. How could she find her father in London when she could not even remember what he looked like?
After a short ride the children got off the bus and walked up the stairs of Creagh House. An assortment of strangers greeted them, including another group of fifteen children who would be travelling with them to Canada. One of the women introduced the children to a man who was the acting agent-general for British Columbia and told them that he was a very important man.
William McAdam turned to the children, “How do you do? My, my! What a fine looking bunch of children you are! I am so sure that you will all be happy in your new home. When you get there, you will see how very lucky you are because the Fairbridge people have found one of the most beautiful little valleys in the world for your farm school. I am sure you will all grow up to reflect credit on Fairbridge and become good citizens of British Columbia.”[5] The adults all cheered, but suspicion crossed over the children’s faces. A few, however, thought that this might be their opportunity to get some answers.
A bold boy piped up, “Can you tell us about Canada and about the Fairbridge farm school? Where is the school and when are we going?”
A chorus of questions followed:
“Are there really cowboys and Indians?”
“Is it a long way?”
“Is it across the ocean?”
“Why are we being sent away?”
“Where is Liverpool?”
“When do we go?”
“Is Canada a really big country?”
“Children! Children! Not so noisy! One question at a time,” one of the men responded. “What an inquisitive group you are! That is a very good sign. I like to see that in children. Well, sit down and I will tell you about the Fairbridge farm school in Canada. First, I must tell that we have a marvellous telegram sent especially for you lot. It is from Prince Henry, the Duke of Gloucester. He is the president of the Fairbridge Society. He wants all of you to know that he is glad you are getting a special farewell party and he sends his very “best wishes for a good journey and all possible success in the future.”[6] It is quite wonderful of him to take time out from his busy schedule to send a telegram. Now, I will tell you about another very special man named Kingsley Fairbridge. He had a great vision when he was a young man.” He sat back and grinned at the children.
“Are we going to meet Kingsley Fairbridge?” Marjorie asked.
“No, my dear, unfortunately he died a few years back, but his name lives on in the farm school scheme that he founded.” He smiled broadly at the children before continuing. He told them that Kingsley Fairbridge had the great vision to take poor little children out of the crowded cities of England and set them up on beautiful farm schools where they could learn the skills to live a happy life in the colonies. He opened his first farm school almost twenty-five years ago in 1912 near Perth, in Western Australia, and it has been so successful that the Fairbridge Society now wants to set up farm schools in every man-hungry corner of the Empire.[7] He sat back in his chair and beamed at the children. Puzzled stares looked back at him.
One of the boys stood up, “What do you mean hungry men? We don’t want to go to Canada if there’s no food.” He held a deep mistrust of these adults. Were these Fairbridge people going to send him across the ocean to starve?
“My son, I said ‘man-hungry.’ What I meant by that is that Britain’s colonies are vast, and there is so much land that it needs many men to fill them up. I meant that the land is hungry to have you bright little British boys, and you girls too, over there to take advantage of all that it can offer. Both Australia and Canada have a bounty of beautiful farmland just waiting to be cultivated. And at your Canadian farm school, you will be taught all you need to know to survive in your new homeland.” The man sat back and smiled again at the children. The children stared back, quiet, for a moment.
He continued, telling the children that the first group of children had been sent over to the Canadian farm school two years ago, in September 1935. “You are the fourth group of fortunate children to go to this wonderful Fairbridge farm school. There are ninety-eight children there now, and, with your group, that will make a total of 126 children.”
He smiled again and told them that he wished that he could have been so lucky. “Your new home is on a beautiful island on the very west coast of Canada. That part of Canada will remind you of England and you will not be homesick at all. There are several attractive cottages set up for you to live in and each cottage houses twelve to fourteen children. There are separate cottages for the boys and for the girls, and in each cottage you have your very own special cottage mother to look after you. Kingsley Fairbridge wanted the farm schools set up as cottages because he thought it would be more like a real home, rather than everyone staying in a huge dormitory such as the one at the Middlemore Home. The Prince of Wales thinks your farm school is a grand idea too, so he gave some of his very own money and encouraged others to give as well to ensure your school had enough money to get started. Your new farm school’s official name is the Prince of Wales Fairbridge Farm School, therefore you can see it is a special place.” He finished his speech by telling the children that they will be doing their duty to their country and their King.
The children struggled to understand all that they had been told. Marjorie puzzled over what had been said about the Fairbridge man taking children from the crowded cites of England. London seemed crowded, as did Birmingham, and even Newcastle, but her Whitley Bay was not crowded, except maybe on a beautiful sunny day when everyone headed down to the beach. Why did they have to take her and Kenny away? Marjorie wanted to say that if everything was so beautiful in Canada, then you big people should go and live there. Why did she have to go? She was just a kid. She would rather stay with her mum. She tried to tell them, but her voice was stuck.
“Why couldn’t we bring my sisters?” asked Kenny.
“If Canada has so much space, why don’t you move there? And why couldn’t we bring my whole family? I already have a mum, and I don’t want a new mum.” Marjorie surprised herself with this outburst, tears were close, but the talk of new mums upset her, especially since she had a perfectly good one already.
“Now that’s a good question. But, you see, your farm school is designed just for children.” He cleared his throat as he answered, and, turning to the whole group, told them that Kingsley Fairbridge was a visionary, a man who saw that the colonies needed farmers. “You cannot be farmers without training and Fairbridge felt that properly trained children would make the best farmers. Fairbridge knew that full-grown unemployed men and women failed when taken out as labour to the colonies.”[8] He finished by saying that Kingsley Fairbridge set up the farm school system for lucky boys and girls just like you.
“Well, I want to be a nurse when I grow up, not a farmer!” a little girl shouted out.
Someone chuckled, then turned to the little girl and told her that she would likely be a farmer’s wife when she grows up. “You will see, once you get there, you will become used to the farming life and because you will grow up farming, you will understand it and come to love it. I bet each young girl here will find herself a handsome farmer to marry when she gets older, how would you like that?”
Displeasure quickly filtered through the girls, and Marjorie was about