第 18 页

Articles of clothing, blankets, numerous other items lay scattered over the tatami, I made some appropriate reply and sat down where I would not be in the way. On the floor beside me, I noticed two splendid-looking kimonos I had never seen Sachiko wear. I saw also—in the middle of the floor, packed into a cardboard box her delicate tea set of pale white china.

Sachiko had opened wide the central partitions to allow the last of the daylight to come into the cottage; despite that, a dimness was fast setting in and the sunset coming across the veranda barely reached the far corner where Mariko sat watching her mother quietly. Near her, two of the kittens were fighting playfully; the little girl was holding a third kitten in her aims.

“I expect Mariko told you," I said to Sachiko. “There was a visitor for you earlier. Your cousin was here.”

“Yes. Mariko told me.” Sachiko continued to pack her trunk.

“You’re leaving in the morning?”

Yes,” she said, with a touch of impatience. Then she gave a sigh and looked up at me. “Yes, Etsuko, we’re leaving in the morning. “She folded something away into i corner of her trunk.

“You have so much luggage" I said, eventually. "How will you ever carry it all?"

For a little while, Sachiko did not answer. Then, continuing to pack, she said: "You know perfectly well, Etsuko. We’ll put it in the car.”

I remained silent. She took a deep breath, and glanced across the room to where I was sitting.

“Yes, we’re leaving Nagasaki, Etsuko. I assure you. I had every intention of coming to say goodbye once all the packing was finished. I wouldn’t have left without thanking you, you’ve been most kind. Incidentally, as regards the loan, it will be returned to you through the post. Please don’t worry about that.” She began to pack again.

“Where is it you’re going?” I asked.

“Kobe. Everything’s decided now, once and for all.”

"Kobe?”

”Yes, Etsuko, Kobe. Then after that, America. Frank has arranged everyhing. Aren’t you pleased for me?” She smiled quickly, then turned away again.

I went on watching her. Mariko, too, was watching her. The kitten in her arms was struggling to join its companions on the tatami, but the little girl continued to hold it firmly. Beside her, in the corner of the room, I saw the vegetable box she had won at the kujibiki stall; Mariko, it appeared, had converted the box into a house for her kittens.

· "Incidentally, Etsuko, that pile over there”—Sachiko pointed—"those items I’ll just have to leave behind. I had no idea there was so much. Some of it is of decent enough quality. Please make use of it if you wish. I don’t mean any offence, of course. It’s merely that some of it is of good quality.”

"But what about your uncle?” I said. "Andy our cousin?”

“My uncle?” She gave a shrug. “It was kind of him to have invited me into his household. But I’m afraid I’ve made other plans now. You have no idea, Etsuko, how relieved III be to leave this place. I trust Eve seen the last of such squalor.’ Then she looked across to me once more and laughed. “I can see exactly what you’re thinking. I can assure you, Etsuko, you’re quite wrong. He won’t let me down this time. He’ll be here with the car, first thing tomorrow morning. Aren’t you pleased for me?” Sachiko looked around at the luggage strewn over the floor and sighed. Then stepping over a pile of clothes, she knelt beside the box containing the tea set, and began filling it with rolls of wool.

“Have you decided yet?” Mariko said, suddenly.

“We can’t talk about it now, Mariko,” said her mother. “I’m busy now.”

"But you said I could keep them. Don’t you remember?” Sachiko shook the cardboard box gently; the china still rattled. She looked around, found a piece of cloth and began tearing it into strips.

You said I could keep them,” Mariko said again.

“Mariko, please consider the situation for a moment. How can we possibly take all those creatures with us?"

"But you said I could keep them.”

Sachiko sighed, and for a moment seemed to be considering something. She looked down at the tea set, the pieces of cloth held in her hands.

“You did, Mother,” Mariko said. “Don’t you remember? You said I could.”

Sachiko looked up at her daughter, then over towards the kittens. “Things are different now,” she said, tiredly. Then a wave of irritation crossed her face, and she flung down the pieces of cloth. “Mariko, how can you think so much of these creatures? How can we possibly take them with us? No, we’ll just have to leave them here.”

“But you said I could keep them.”

Sachiko glared at her daughter for a moment. “Can’t you think of anything else?” she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “Aren’t you old enough yet to see them are other things besides these filthy little animals? You’ll just have to grow up a little. You simply can’t have these sentimental attachments for ever. These are just … just animals don’t you see? Don’t you understand that, child?"

"Don’t you understand?”

Mariko stared back at her mother.

“If you like, Mariko-San,” I put in, “I could come and feed them from time to time. Then eventually they’ll find homes for themselves. There’s no need to worry.”

The little girl turned to me. "Mother said I could keep the kittens,” she said.

“Stop being so childish,” said Sachiko, sharply. "You’re being deliberately awkward, as you always are. What does it matter about the dirty little creatures?” She rose to her feet and went over to Mariko’s corner. The kittens on the tatami scurried back; Sachiko looked down at them, then took a deep breath. Quite calmly, she turned the vegetable box on to its side—so that the wire-grid panels were facing upwards—reached down and dropped the kittens one by one into the box. She then turned to her daughter; Mariko was still clutching the remaining kitten.

“Give me that,” said Sachiko.

Mariko continued to hold the kitten. Sachiko stepped forward and put out her hand. The little girl turned and looked at me.

“This is Atsu,” she said. “Do you want to see him, Etsuko-San? This is Atsu.”

“Give me that creature, Mariko,” Sachiko said. “Don’t you understand, it’s just an animal. Why can’t you understand that, Mariko? Are you really too young? It’s not your little baby, its just an animal, just like a rat or a snake. Now give it to me.”

Mariko stared up at her mother. Then slowly, she lowered the kitten and let it drop to the tatarni in front of her. The kitten struggled as Sachiko lifted itàff the ground. She dropped it into the vegetable box and slid shut the wire grid.

Stay here,” she said to herdaughter, and picked the box up in her arms. Then as she came past, she said to me: “It’s so stupid, these are just animals, what does it matter?

Mariko rose to her feet and seemed about to follow her mother. Sachiko turned at the entryway and said: “Do as you’re told. Stay here.”

For a few moments, Mariko remained standing at the edge of the tatami, looking at the doorway where her mother had disappeared.

Wait for your mother here, Mariko-San,” I said to her.

The little girl turned and looked at me. Then the next moment, she had gone.

Fora minute or two, I did not move. Then eventually Igot to my feet and put on my sandals. From the doorway, I could see Sachiko down by the water, the vegetable box beside her feet; she appeared not to have noticed her daughter standing several yards behind her, just at the point where the ground began to slope down steeply. I left the cottage and made my way to where Mariko was standing.

“Let’s go back to the house, Mariko-San” I said, gently. The little girl’s eyes remained on her mother, her face devoid of any expression. Down in front of us, Sachiko knelt cautiously on the bank, then moved the box a little nearer.

"Let’s go inside, Mariko,” I said again, but the little girl continued to ignore me. I left her and walked down the muddy slope to where Sachiko was kneeling, The sunset was coming through the trees on the opposite bank, and the reds that grew along the water’s edge cast long shadows on the muddy ground around us. Sachiko had found some grass to kneel on, but that too was thick with mud.

“Can’t we let them loose?” I said, quietly. “You never know. Someone may want them.”

Sachiko was gazing down into the vegetable box through the wire gauze. She slid open a panel, brought out a kitten and shut the box again. She held the kitten in both hands, looked at it for a few seconds, then glanced up at me. “It’s just an animal, Etsuko,” she said. “That’s all it is.”

She put the kitten into the water and held it there. She remained like that for some moments, staring into the water, both hands beneath the surface. She was wearing a casual summer kimono, and the corners of each sleeve touched the water.

Then for the first time, without taking her hands from the water, Sachiko threw a glance over her shoulder towards her daughter. Instinctively, I followed her glance, and for one brief moment the two of us were both staring back up at Mariko. The little girl was standing at the top of the slope, watching with the same blank expression. On seeing her mother’s face turn to her, she moved her head very slightly; then she remained quite still, her hands behind her back.

Sachiko brought her hands out of the water and stared at She kitten she was still holding. She brought it closer to her , We and the water ran down her wrists and arms.

“It’s still alive,” she said, tiredly. Then she turned to me and said: “Look at this water, Etsuko. It’s so dirty.” With an air of disgust, she dropped the soaked kitten back into the box and shut it. “How these things struggle,” she muttered, and held up her wrists to show me the scratch-marks. Somehow, Sachiko’s hair had also become wet; one top, then another fell from a thin strand which hung down me side of her face.

Sachiko adjusted her position then pushed the vegetable box over the edge of the bank the box rolled and landed in the water. To prevent it floating, Sachiko leaned forward and held it down. The water came almost halfway up the wire-grid. She continued to hold down the box, then finally pushed it with both hands. The box floated a little way into the river, bobbed and sank further. Sachiko got to her feet and we both of us watched the box. It continued to float, then caught in the current and began moving more swiftly downstream.

Some movement caught my eye and made me turn, Mariko had run several yards down the river’s edge, to spot where the bank jutted out into the water. She stock there watching the box float on, her face still expression. less. The box caught in some reeds, freed itself and continued its journey. Mariko began to run again. She ran some distance along the bank, then stopped again to watch the box. By this time, only a small corner was visible about the surface.

This water’s so dirty,” Sachiko said. She had been shaking the water off her hands. She squeezed in turn the sleeve-ends of her kimono, then brushed the mud from her knees. “Let’s go back inside, Etsuko. The insects here are becoming intolerable."

"Shouldn’t we go and get Mariko? It will be dark soon.”

Sachiko turned and called her daughter’s name. Mariko was now fifty yards or so away, still looking at the water She did not seem to hear and Sachiko gave a shrung. “She’ll come back in time," she said, "Now. I must finish packing before the light goes completely” She began to walk up the slope towards the cottage.

Sachiko lit the lantern and hung it from a low wooden beam. "Don’t worry yourself, Etsuko,” she said, “She’ll back soon enough.” She made her way through the various items strewn over the tatami, and seated herself, as before in front of the open partitions. Behind her, the sky had become pale and faded.

She began packing again. I sat down at the opposite side of the room and watched her.

“What are your plans now?” I asked. "What will you do once you arrive in Kobe?”

"Everything’s been arranged, Etsuko” she said, without looking up. “There’s no need to worry. Frank has seen to everything”

“But why Kobe?"

“He has friends there. At the American base. He’s been entrusted with a job on cargo ship, and he’ll be in America in a very short time. Then he’ll send us the necessary amount of money, and He’s seen to all the arrangements.”

“You mean, he’s leaving Japan without you?" Sachiko laughed. “One needs to be patient, Etsuko."

Once he arrives in America, he’ll be able to work and send money. Its by far the most sensible solution. After all, it would be so much easier for him to find work once he’s back in America. I don’t mind waiting a little.”

“I see".

“He’s seen to everything, Etsuko. He’s found a place for Us to stay in Kobe, and he’s seen to it that we’ll get on a ship it almost half the usual cost." She gave a sigh. “You have no idea how pleased I am to be leaving this place.”

Sachiko continued to pack. The pale light from outside bu on one side of her face, but her hands and sleeves were ught in the glow from the lantern. It was a strange effect.

“DO you expect to waft long in Kobe?" I tasked. She shrugged. “I’m prepared to be patient, Etsuko. One needs to be patient.”

could not see in the dimness what it was she was folding; it seemed to be giving her some difficulty, for she opened and refolded it several times.

In any case, Etsuko,” she went on, “why would he have gone to all this trouble if he wasn’t absolutely sincere? Why would he have gone to all this trouble on my behalf? Sometimes, Etsuko, you seem so doubting. You should be happy for me. Things are working out at last."

“Yes, of course. I’m very happy for you.”

“But really, Etsuko, it would be unfair to start doubing him after he’s gone to all this trouble. It would be quite unfair"

"Yes.”

“And Mariko would be happier there. America is a better place for a young girl to grow up. Out there, could do all kinds of things with her life. She could bec a business girl. Or she could study painting at college become an artist. All these things are much easier America, Etsuko. Japan is no place for a girl. What can look forward to here?”

I made no reply. Sachiko glanced up at me and gave small laugh.

“Try and smile, Etsuko,” she said. Things will turn well in the end.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will.”

“Of course they will."

“Yes."

For another minute or so, Sachiko continued with packing. Then her hands became still, and she gazed across the room towards me, her face caught in that strange mixture of light.

“I suppose you think I’m a fool, she said, quietly “Don’t you, Etsuko?”

I looked back at her, a little surprised.

“I realize we may never see America," she said.—even if we did, I know how difficult things will be. Did you think I never knew that?”

I gave no reply, and we went on staring at each other. “But what of it?” said Sachiko. “What difference does It make? Why shouldn’t I go to Kobe? After all, Etsuko, what do I have to lose? There’s nothing for me at my uncle’s house. Just a few empty rooms, that’s all. I could sit there in and grow old. Other than that there’ll be nothing. Just empty rooms, that’s all, You know that yourself, Etsuko.”