‘You realize Rory and Fitz are going to harass me worse about this than they do about me being sweet on someone who is Japanese-Canadian.’ I took it off and tossed it in the bag.
The cheerfulness dropped off her face and she removed her wig too. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It was a silly idea. We won’t go.’
Feeling regretful for bursting her bubble I stretched the wig back on. ‘I was only teasing you. I don’t care if people laugh at me. We’re definitely going, and we’re a shoo-in for best costume.’
She sighed and stared down at her clasped hands. ‘You have the wrong idea about Rory, by the way.’
‘Wrong how?’
‘Well, Fitz might have an issue with me being Japanese, but Rory doesn’t.’ She glanced over at my expression as I tried to figure out what would have made her believe that. My eyes narrowed as the reason sunk in.
‘Is he sweet on you?’
‘I don’t know if I would call it that exactly. But he used to write me poems.’
‘Poems? Rory?’
She chuckled at my shocked tone as she hopped up and walked over to sit on the porch swing. ‘Which part is giving you that perplexed look, the fact that Rory writes poetry or the fact that he was sweet on me?’
‘Both.’ I stood to join her on the swing and we swayed casually. ‘I mean, I understand why he would have been sweet on you. I’m just shocked I never noticed. And I’m flabbergasted that he can spell, let alone compose poetry.’
‘Well, admittedly, he’s no Robert Frost. But his imagery and tone are quite sentimental.’
‘When was the last time he wrote to you?’
‘Just before the fall fair.’
My mouth dropped open at how recently it had been carrying on. I was astonished that I’d had no idea.
‘You have nothing to worry about, Hayden. I was clear with him that the feelings weren’t reciprocated. He asked if it was because I had feelings for you. When I told him yes, he was very hurt. Perhaps I should have told you, but out of respect to Rory, I felt it would be unkind to gossip. Please don’t humiliate him by sharing it with anyone else. I’m only mentioning it to you now so you don’t get in a quarrel with him over something that isn’t true.’
‘How does that tidbit of information make things better? Now, I’m going to get in a quarrel with him over something that is true.’
‘No. I forbid you to lose your temper.’
‘That’s going to be tricky, since I still owe him at least one bop to the eye for throwing that cigarette and burning you.’
‘He apologized for that.’ She glanced sideways at me before continuing, ‘He meant to hit you and regretted that he burned me. He came by the house the day after it happened with flowers. I accepted the apology but not the flowers.’
I laughed with some satisfaction at the image of Rory having to walk away dejected with the flowers still in hand. ‘Rebuffing him a second time means he’s probably extra sore now. If he starts something, what do you expect me to do?’
‘You’ll do nothing,’ she said with the authority of a schoolteacher.
‘What makes you so sure?’
A calculated grin stretched across her lips. ‘Because I said so. And if you do fight with him, no kissing with me.’
‘Oh really? Is that so?’ I slid my hand under her open coat and tickled her ribs, which made her squeal and kick her legs. ‘You’re full of all sorts of sassy bribes and threats today, aren’t you, missy? Don’t you care that he tried to burn me with the cigarette? That warrants a quarrel, I think.’
‘Nope.’ As she giggled and squirmed away from me, her mother opened the front door. I still had the Raggedy Andy wig on and Chidori was basically lying on the porch swing fighting me off from the tickle attack. It must have been quite an improper sight. I quickly stood and removed the wig. Chidori sat up and straightened her coat.
Mrs Setoguchi’s expression hung halfway between disapproval and amusement. ‘Hayden, would you care to join us for tea?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Thank you.’
She nodded and retreated back into the house. Once the door shut, Chidori pointed at me with utter delight. ‘You should have seen your face.’
‘I thought your mother was going to scold me.’
‘She would have, but,’ Chidori sprung to her feet and shoved my shoulder to make me turn and face the greenhouses. Her father and brothers were crossing the yard, approaching the house. ‘Whenever my brothers misbehaved exceptionally badly, my mother left the discipline to my father.’ She winked. ‘You’re in big trouble now, mister.’
I glanced back at her brothers and father, wondering how much they had witnessed of us carrying on. I knew she was joshing me, but since I held her father’s opinion in high regard, I couldn’t help but feel the nerves of a little boy who’d just been caught red-handed in an act of mischief.
Chapter 17
The POW Stalag Luft guards lined up all the new arrivals and filed us into a hall to be deloused with powder, which was fine with me since the boxcar was probably infested, and I preferred to be rid of creepy crawlers. I was still coughing from the chemical residue when they escorted me, along with fifteen other fellows, through the yard that was overlooked by guard towers in each corner of the compound. We were assigned to Barrack III, which was one of five wood-framed bunkhouses and already half full with inmates. The prisoners who had been there for months or years called themselves Kriegies, short for Kriegsgefangen, which was German for POW.
‘Welcome to your new home,’ a fellow named James announced as we each filed in and placed our threadbare blankets on a bunk. ‘Let me give you the tour,’ James joked, since there was nothing to tour in the one large room. ‘We eat here.’ He pointed to the long table with benches next to the pot-bellied wood-burning stove, which was also the only source of heat. ‘We play cards here.’ He pointed to the table again. ‘And we do everything else here.’ He pointed to the table once again and chuckled. ‘Those dandy jugs in the corner are the urinals. Get used to it. The guards only escort prisoners once a day to use the toilets.’ The smell of urine had already coated my nostrils before I even knew they were there.
Ivan took over the orientation and pointed out the dirt-caked window. ‘Normally all the barracks are permitted in the yard at the same time, but because most of the yard is currently covered in mud, the goons just made a rule that each barrack has different allotted exercise times. We’re locked in here until it’s our turn.’ Ivan moved to the middle of the room next to the stove and opened the drawers of a free-standing cupboard to show us the contents. ‘We’re supposed to get rations for cooking, but it’s been a good while since we received even the basics. The guards promised more is on the way, but the trains keep getting bombed to hell, so I’ll believe it when I see it.’ He held up a curved piece of tin can. ‘This is your spoon and fork and knife until the Red Cross care package arrives. And don’t touch any of my proper utensils or I’ll slash you with your tin-can spoon.’
A fellow named Conrad leapt from his bunk to swing from the rafter beam and landed next to me. ‘I hope you’re hungry, boys. Breakfast will consist of one lavishly thick cup of black coffee. Your lunch will be an enticing slice of hard black bread with a chunk of always dry, sometimes mouldy cheese. And dinner will be a decadent sauerkraut or broth soup that has a robust aroma reminiscent of goat piss. Mmm.’ He closed his eyes and kissed his fingertips to emphasize the deliciousness of the menu. The other new arrivals laughed, but I didn’t find it particularly funny.
The wooden slat bedframe and scratchy straw-filled burlap sack mattress was similar to the one in the stall in the Hungarian detention cooler. I hopped up and sat on mine to attempt to make myself at home. Unfortunately, the warmth of the stove didn’t actually reach the bunks along the perimeter of the walls. And wrapping the thin blanket around my shoulders to fend off the cold draught that blew in through the cracks in the siding planks did little good either. Not exactly cosy like home. It would be barely bette
r than sleeping outdoors, but at least I finally had a bunch of mates to keep me company.
F/O Pierce Duration as POW: 92 days.
It’s been three months since I arrived at the Stalag Luft. The first week I was here I wrote to my parents to inform them of my location at the camp, and I asked them to let Chidori know too, if they could, but I haven’t received any letters back. The fellas who have been here longer say they haven’t received a post delivery in four months. Writing my flight log to myself will have to do for now.
We were told the guards would read our journals, but I don’t think they can read English. My breath is making frost clouds as I lay on my cot writing this. I should move closer to the stove where the other fellas are seated around the table, talking about food – food is the only thing they talk about more than female companionship. The conversations about ladies and food go pretty much the same. They talk about the best they ever had in detail, then about everything they want to try once we’re free.
Sometimes the guards crawl under the bunkhouse to eavesdrop on our conversations. We know when they’re down there because we can hear their German shepherd dogs panting under the floorboards. If they understand English they probably enjoy the exaggerated stories about Montreal smoked meat and prostitutes as much as we do. As far as I can tell, the goons eat the same food as we do and rarely get leave to see their families or sweethearts. I think it’s fair to say we’re all starving in more ways than one.
I’ve read every English book in the camp twice. I read one French book cover to cover too, not that I understood it but sounding out the words gave me something to do. I thought about writing my own book, but I don’t want to waste all my writing paper. Some of the other men sketch because they aren’t much for writing. Jack created a portrait of me. He’s talented – perhaps too talented since I look exactly like a hungry, sleep-deprived, and melancholy prisoner. I asked him to sketch the house I want to build back on Mayne Island. He’s only half-done, but it’s a beauty, with a music solarium for Chidori. The memory of it makes me want to cry, both happy and sad tears at the same time.
Chapter 18
My legs were antsy in anticipation of catching heck from her father for tickling Chidori on the porch swing. I stepped into the foyer of the Setoguchi house and Chidori took my coat to hang it in the closet, then she tossed the duffel with the Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes onto the shelf. Her father and brothers entered through the back door, laughing about something, so that eased my worries somewhat. Unfortunately, I was terribly underdressed in coveralls. I removed my boots and ran my hand through my hair to tidy it up, then took a few quick inhalations to calm my nerves. Mrs Setoguchi wore a tailored royal blue dress which had red birds printed on the fabric, and her hair was curled perfectly in place. Chidori inherited her smooth, glowing skin and rose petal lips from her mother.
‘Welcome Hayden. Please come in.’ Mrs Setoguchi swept her arm to invite me from the foyer to the reception room. She treated me in the manner of a formal guest, even though they all knew me – literally since birth because their grandmother was the midwife who had helped deliver me.
The Setoguchi house was one of the biggest on the island. They each had their own bedrooms and they had two flush toilets, which I had always thought was quite something since we only had an outhouse. Her mother changed the custom-made drapes four times a year with the seasons. And the living-room walls were covered in floral wallpaper from Paris that shone at certain angles. My favourite part of the house was the solarium at the back. They used it as their music room and, on warm summer evenings, I sometimes sat at the edge of the forest to listen to Chidori play the violin.
Massey’s truck rolled up the driveway and he parked out back. He entered through the back door and washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining us in the living room. He had come straight from the dock, also wearing his coveralls, which made me feel not quite so out of place. We all knelt on the floor around a low, black lacquered table from Japan. Chidori’s petite grandmother shuffled into the room quietly from the kitchen and poured nine cups of tea. The teapot was a flattened angular shape, made of iron, with a bamboo handle. The cups were a slate colour on the outside and bright red on the inside. There were no handles on the cups, so their grandmother carefully held them nestled in the palm of her hands and passed one to each of us with a slight bow. Tea etiquette was very particular, so I copied exactly the way everyone else held the cups and sipped. Chidori watched me intently. It was difficult to know if she was impressed I was doing it correctly, or if she was amused because I was doing it wrong.
‘Hayden-san,’ her grandmother said and passed a plate of biscuits to me. ‘Try.’
I took one biscuit and bowed, but I was reluctant to eat it in case I made crumbs on their expensive rug. ‘Arigato,’ I said.
Chidori placed her hand on my knee briefly to acknowledge that I had pleased her grandmother with my manners.
Mr Setoguchi glanced at how she had touched me but didn’t say anything. He was Massey’s younger brother and had been born on Mayne Island after the family immigrated to Canada when Massey was two years old. Mr Setoguchi’s first name was Hiro, but since he employed upwards of twenty men in the busy season, everyone, including my father, called him Mr Setoguchi or Boss. Chidori’s grandfather had been an agricultural expert and taught Chidori’s father everything he knew about growing tomatoes, cucumbers and plums. The grandfather died suddenly from a heart attack when Chidori and I were nine years old, and after his death, Mr Setoguchi expanded the greenhouse business exports beyond Mayne Island to both Victoria and Vancouver and then eventually to the rest of the province. He was more formal and serious than Massey by nature, so I had always felt both admiration and intimidation when I was in Mr Setoguchi’s presence; the pressure was made more intense by the fact that my relationship with Chidori had become serious.
After tea service was finished, Chidori’s grandmother retired to the kitchen. Massey and the boys relaxed and moved to stretch out on the elegant European furniture. Chidori and her mother cleared the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen as well. Her father sat on a wingback chair and lit his pipe. I debated whether I should stay kneeling on the floor or move to the chesterfield. My knees answered the question for me when they started to lock up painfully. I nearly fell over as I tried to stand and move.
‘So, what exactly are your intentions with our sister, Hayden?’ Tosh asked to tease me.
Massey glanced at me and then over at his brother. Mr Setoguchi’s expression didn’t change.
Even though Tosh was only saying it to be funny, I cleared my throat and rubbed my palms on my trousers. My forehead started to sweat and the perspiration dripped down the side of my face. My mouth became so dry I worried I wouldn’t be able to speak. ‘Well, we have been going steady. And I, eventually I, would be honoured to become engaged. To be married one day. If she is agreeable.’ My heart revved out of control as I spoke.
Kenji threw a pillow at me, and both he and Tosh laughed. ‘Look at him. He’s going to faint.’
Mr Setoguchi stood. He wasn’t very tall, but he was imposing with his broad shoulders and heavy brow. He cleared his throat and spoke in a gruff way, ‘I like you, Hayden, but I’m going to save you the trouble of asking my permission. The answer is no. I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s best for either of you.’
Tosh and Kenji’s joshing came to an abrupt halt. Massey looked at me with a sentiment that could best be expressed as, you just overloaded the skiff, dummy.
Tension clamped down on my throat, but I was able to choke out, ‘With all due respect, Mr Setoguchi, why?’
‘We need to accept the culture we currently live in, not fight against it.’
My ears burned hot and my heart pounded in preparation for the worst of my temper to unleash, which I didn’t want to happen in front of her entire family. I took a deep breath and unclenched my fist, then spoke slowly to contain my frustration. ‘Again, with all due respect, I wou
ld be good to her – you know that, and it has nothing to do with my blue eyes and blond hair.’
He shook his head, steadfast. ‘Sorry, Hayden. You will more than likely go off to war after your birthday. And there is a very good chance we will be forced to evacuate to an internment camp, or worse, if the rumoured government sanctions on Japanese Canadians are imposed. It is my wish that you and Chidori not court now. I forbid it.’ He bowed his head slightly before crossing the living room to the foyer. We all watched, frozen, as he stepped out the front door.
Chidori stood motionless in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Tears filled her eyes, then once the the shock wore off, she ran in her stocking feet out the front door and across the grass towards the forest.
I started to go after her, but when I stepped out onto the porch to put my boots on, her father, who was sitting on a rocking chair smoking his pipe, said, ‘Let her be, Hayden. You go on home now.’
I paced, debating whether I should express what was on my mind. He raised the pipe to his lips as he rocked slowly and stared out at the cornfield, infuriatingly silent. An urge to shove him against the wall and shake him until he said something built in my muscles, so I left before I did something rash.
Chidori had taken the path towards the road. She had no shoes on and only a pullover knit top over her blouse, so she wouldn’t have gone too far. But I didn’t know which direction she’d gone in. It was probably better to give her time to calm down anyway, so I headed home.
In the middle of the night, my father and Patch woke me. ‘Get up, son,’ Pa whispered. His tone was unusual.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Get dressed and come downstairs quickly.’
Patch growled and ran ahead of my father. Anxiety pounded through my heart as I pulled on trousers and a shirt. I bounded down the steps two at a time to the landing as I stretched my suspenders over my shoulders. The front door to the house was open. Mr Setoguchi, Tosh and Kenji all stood on the porch with lanterns and grim expressions.
All We Left Behind Page 12
