All We Left Behind
DANIELLE R. GRAHAM
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Danielle R. Graham 2020
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Danielle R. Graham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008387150
Ebook Edition © January 2020 ISBN: 9780008387143
Version: 2019-12-05
About This Book
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
About This Book
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Author’s Note
About the Author
About the Publisher
For my nephews, Parker and Declan,
and their Great Grandfather, Ted Tadayuki Kadohama
Based on true events …
Chapter 1
The Italian Campaign, World War II, April 1944
‘Hayden. Wait up.’ Gordie jogged to catch up to me as I made my way from the intelligence tent to the flight strip. Our orders were to escort the bomber squadron to target a train transporting enemy supplies through Italy. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t fly today, pal.’ Gordie matched my stride and thudded his palm against my shoulder.
I couldn’t afford to miss a flight. We were only seventeen more missions from being reassigned and I was determined to do whatever it took to go home. ‘I’m fine,’ I mumbled, then wove against the flow of the night airmen who were headed to the mess tent for a cup of weak coffee and a breakfast of dry egg and toast.
‘Are you sure?’ Gordie asked. ‘You weren’t even paying attention back there. I don’t want to get killed because your head is somewhere else.’
My jaw tightened at the reminder of the curt letter from my father folded in the lining of my breast pocket. The truth was I hadn’t slept or eaten since I received the post. And Gordie was right. I hadn’t listened to anything our commanding officer had said during the briefing, other than noting the location of the advancement line to protect the Allied troops on the ground. I didn’t need to pay attention. I knew the orders by heart. We’d done the same routine hundreds of times in the months we’d been stationed close to the Gustav Line – fly the sortie, avoid flak, and return with everyone in the squadron. ‘I’m fine to fly.’
The tread of my boot gripped the metal of the wing as I climbed up onto my airplane to double-check the airscrew pitch. Gordie hung out next to the rudder and squinted through the glare of the Mediterranean sun to shoot me an uneasy glance. ‘Nobody’s going to question if you sit this one out. It would be safer for all of us if you take some time to grieve, maybe talk to the chaplain.’
‘Time off won’t help. Sitting around here without a distraction would be worse.’ I checked the oxygen and pressure for the gun system, then hopped back down to the tarmac to wait for the siren. ‘And talking about it doesn’t change what happened. The only thing that would have made a difference is if I had been there. And I wasn’t.’
As the ground crew armed his Spitfire, Gordie performed a set of jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. Between breaths and bounces he said, ‘It might have ended in the same result even if you had been there. There’s no way of knowing.’
Annoyed that he was probably right, I forced the buckle on my flotation vest too abruptly and it broke off in my hand. ‘Hey!’ I hollered over to a gangly crewman speeding by on a bicycle. ‘Grab me another Mae West, would you? This one failed.’ The kid thrust his thumb in the air and pedalled harder to fetch a new vest from the supply tent. Gordie transitioned his calisthenics into side bends and hamstring stretches and waited patiently to finish the conversation. A conversation I wanted nothing to do with.
‘You can’t blame yourself, Hayden. There isn’t anything you could have done.’
That was the whole point. It was infuriating that I was powerless to change the outcome from overseas. ‘If I’d had a chance to talk to her—’
Gordie shook his head to disagree and loosened his necktie an extra finger-width. ‘It doesn’t work that way.’
‘No? How does it work then?’
He shrugged and arched to look at the sky to stretch his lower back. ‘All I know is there are certain things nobody can do anything about, and this is one of them.’
More and more it felt like fighting a war was one of those futile things too. What if all my efforts were pointless? And all for nothing? I stretched my leather helmet and goggles over my ears and swallowed back the helplessness of being unable to fix anything. ‘What if everything back home changes so much while we’re here that we don’t recognize it when we get back?’
Gordie thought about it seriously as he forced his beefy hands into his leather gloves. ‘I’m more worried they’ll all be the same and expect me to be the same. The war has changed me. I can’t go back to my old life the way it was.’
‘Yeah, well.’ I exhaled as much useless tension as I could, but an entire war’s worth of fury had taken up a hefty residence inside my chest. ‘I enjoyed my old life. I want it back.’
Gordie cuffed the back of my head in an unsuccessful attempt to bolster my morale. ‘Let’s just worry about getting home alive first. We can decide what we want to do with that life later.’
I nodded in reluctant agreement. The Royal Air Force petrol refuellers linked the hose to my tank and the vapours mixed with the fumes of the f
reshly painted yellow, blue, white, and red rings of the side roundel of the seven-crew Lancaster heavy night bomber next to us. Gordie headed over to inspect his machine as the crewman on the bike returned with my new flotation device. I squeezed my head through, rearranged the parachute seat pack straps and climbed back up onto the wing of my Spitfire, attempting to push away all thoughts from my mind, except the mission.
High cloud, pleasant spring temperatures – a perfect day to fly.
As I waited for the signal to fire up, I slid out the photo that I kept hidden in the lining of my breast pocket. Some days it felt as if Chidori was glancing back at me with encouragement or adoration, but not this time. Her eyes pleaded with me, trying to tell me something. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what, and the frustration forced tears to well up and blur my vision, so I tucked the photo away next to my father’s letter. I would have given anything to forget the anguishing news from home and focus instead on better thoughts, but it felt as if all the pleasant memories of Mayne Island before the war – Chidori, my family, my Border collie, Patch, and even pleasures as simple as the sticky buns at the fall fair – were eroding, fading farther and farther into the past with every year I was gone. I feared it wouldn’t be long before all of the good memories were lost forever, replaced one by one with increasingly painful memories.
Holding position on the airstrip when the anticipation of a mission was already hammering through my system had always been aggravating. The delays were even more torturous in the irritable state I was in. The mercury rose under the cockpit shield as I was forced to wait. Every single thing that could possibly go wrong on a flight over enemy-occupied territory inched into my awareness and collided with all the other turmoil that was already holding court in my thoughts. The wool collar of my uniform scratched almost unbearably at my neck.
When the green lantern finally flashed, my engine choked, like a kid trying a cigarette for the first time. The tower signalled for the spare Spitfire but after a stutter, my machine roared to life. I should have taken the falter as an omen. Instead, I waved off the spare and taxied out onto the flare path for takeoff.
23 August 1941
Dear Diary,
A moment worthy of contemplation occurred this morning over fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits and homemade strawberry preserves. As Obaasan basked in the sunbeam that angled through our kitchen window, she sipped her matcha tea and then uttered a phrase under her breath in Japanese. It loosely translates into, ‘every encounter happens but once in a lifetime and every meeting ends with a parting’. Concerned that it meant her health was failing, I asked her what she had meant. She seemed surprised I had heard her, as if perhaps she hadn’t intended to voice her reflections aloud.
Kenji chuckled because he believes Grandmother’s ramblings have become confused due to her old age. My brothers don’t make as much concerted effort as I do to be attentive and patient with Grandmother. Surely they appreciate the value of learning as much from her as possible before she is gone and all of her traditional Japanese wisdom is lost on the wind forever, but perhaps they take for granted that she will always be here. I am uneasy about why she is pondering the topic of parting. She seems in good health, though, so hopefully we have nothing to fear. Nevertheless, I will take notice of each encounter I have today and be grateful for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that it presents.
I have to rush off now to complete my chores before the fall fair. (Chores certainly don’t feel like once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to be treasured, more like never-ending, tedious monotony!) I guess I still have much to learn about unconditional acceptance.
Chi
Chapter 2
Mayne Island, British Columbia, August 1941
Chidori’s polished black shoes poked out from beneath the crisp white bed sheets that billowed in the ocean breeze as she meticulously pegged the corners to the clothesline in front of her family’s farmhouse. Full of eager anticipation, I snuck out of the forest of ancient evergreens that bordered their homestead, then crept in stealth through the long grass behind her. When I was close enough to catch a hint of the cherry blossom fragrance of her hair, I reached between the cotton sheets and tickled her waist.
She squealed in delight, unravelled us from the fabric, and slapped my chest. ‘Good golly. Hayden! You startled me half to death. I expected you to be out on the boat. What are you doing here?’
My mouth opened, about to produce a jaunty answer, but the long strands of her hair shimmered in the sun like raven feathers. The loveliness of it distracted me from the dashing quip I had intended to say next.
With delicate precision, Chidori tucked the wisps behind her ears and studied my expression with curiosity. If she knew the reason for my tongue-tied silence, she didn’t acknowledge it with more than a smile before making a second attempt to encourage my participation in the conversation. ‘Did you forget today is Saturday? Why aren’t you out fishing with Uncle Massey and your father?’
I swiped my hand across my mouth so my wily grin wouldn’t prematurely reveal my true ambition. ‘I volunteered to help my ma and the committee ladies set up the craft fair.’
Chidori stepped back to put a distance more fitting for a friendship between us, then glanced over her shoulder and peeked between the sheets to check if anyone from the house had seen us standing so close. ‘It was nice of you to offer to help your mother.’
‘Not entirely. Truth is, I have ulterior motives.’
‘Ah.’ Her eyes glimmered at the admission that I was up to something rascally. ‘What might those motives be?’
My long-anticipated plan was to invite her on a proper date, and if she was agreeable, begin a courtship. I had even rehearsed a heartfelt speech, but I needed to choose a more romantic moment to deliver it than during laundry chores. I stalled by teasing her. ‘Is this yours?’ I bent over and lifted up a silk slip from the laundry basket.
Chidori blushed, snatched the undergarment from me and then pressed her palms against my arms to playfully shove me away. ‘It’s my grandmother’s. Don’t be such a Nosey Ned.’
‘Nosey Ned? Is there even such a thing?’
‘Just keep your peepers and your mitts to yourself.’ She transferred the undergarments to the line behind the sheets to hide them. ‘You haven’t answered the question. What are your ulterior motives for helping your mother at the fair?’
I pressed my index finger to my lips, then whispered, ‘It’s top secret.’
She shook her head at my evasiveness, but the fact I wasn’t myself seemed to amuse her more than annoy her. ‘You’re acting peculiar, Hayden. If you and Joey are planning some sort of prank, leave me out of it.’
I shot her an impish wink, which made her chuckle.
‘I want no part of whatever mischief you two are scheming to get yourself into.’
‘Hopefully you’ll change your mind once you hear what it is.’
‘Doubtful.’ She smiled to herself before she spun away to peg the corner of another sheet on the line. ‘I had assumed after we graduated that you and Joey would outgrow your schoolboy shenanigans.’
‘Wishful thinking.’
Chidori stopped what she was doing, mused for an extra heartbeat, and then gently shoved my arm to shoo me. ‘I have chores to finish, Mr Monkey Business. And I don’t want to make you late. You should get on and go help your mother. And stay out of trouble.’
‘I won’t be late if I hitch a ride with you and your brothers. Then, after I help my mother, I was thinking you and I could spend some time together. Maybe eat some caramel apples or enter the three-legged race or partake in some other charming country-fair pastime.’
‘Oh.’ She hesitated with a pause that I feared was almost wistful, as it perhaps crossed her mind what my ulterior motive was. Fortunately, after the momentary contemplation, her mood became jovial again. ‘Defending our title in the three-legged race would be fun, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to enjoy the fair. I have to tend to our vegetable stand at
the farmers’ market.’
‘One of your brothers could take over for a while.’
‘They can’t. There’s work to do back here in the greenhouses. I’ll be by myself at the market until they pick me up. Besides, won’t you have to help with the fish sales once the boat arrives at the dock?’
I leaned my shoulder against the clothesline post and crossed my arms, watching her peg trousers and trying to come up with a way to convince her that we could balance work and play. ‘This will likely be the last fall fair until the war is over. It might be our last chance for a long time to enjoy the festivities. Maybe if you sell out of your produce quickly, we could at least hang out at the dance with Joey and Donna Mae for a spell.’
When she didn’t immediately respond, I began to worry that my increasing adoration for her was not mutual and would not be reciprocated. Sweat beaded along my hairline and rolled down the side of my neck as I braced for rejection. Eventually she shot me a flicker of a grin. ‘If I sell out early, I’ll find you.’
‘Thank you.’ My fingers curled to tuck a loose wisp of her hair behind her ear.
Chidori’s eyelids lowered and her brow knitted curiously as she watched me withdraw my hand. Perhaps she was taken off-guard by the affectionate gesture of me touching her hair. Or, she noticed how mesmerized I was by the way the silkiness of the strands danced across my skin. Instead of addressing the intimacy, she said, ‘I should probably focus and get this done properly, Hayden.’ She bent to pull a light green dress out of the laundry basket.
Since I had no intention of leaving without her, I helped with the laundry.
With adept speed, she finished hanging everything in the first basket. As I clumsily pegged a pair of trousers cockeyed to the line, her eyes narrowed in mock scorn. ‘The seam of your shirt is torn. How did you manage that?’
‘I caught it on a rivet when I fixed the hay baler yesterday.’ I tugged at the fabric to examine the hole. ‘No matter. Nobody will notice.’
‘Yes, they will. I’ll quickly mend it for you.’ Chidori reached both her hands up to push my suspenders over my shoulders and let them drop to hang at my hip. The fingers of her left hand untucked the bottom hem of my shirt from the waist of my trousers while the fingers of her right hand unfastened the neck button. It wasn’t likely her intention to cause such an effect in me, but my breath caught in my throat as she slowly made her way down, undoing one button at a time until my shirt hung open. Her hands ran over the fabric of my undershirt and then she eased the top shirt down my arms. Whether she meant for it to or not, it made my heart race and goose bumps spread across the surface of my skin.
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