A Pale View of Hills (10 page)

“The ships are far too big,” said the boy.

The woman gave a laugh. “You must excuse Akira,” she said to Sachiko. “But you see, he has a quite distinguished tutor for his drawing, and so he’s obviously much more discerning about these things than most children his age. Does your daughter have a tutor for her drawing?”

“No, she doesn’t.” Again, Sachiko’s tone was unmistakably cold. The woman, however, appeared to notice nothing.

“It’s not a bad idea at all,” she went on. “My husband was against it at first. He thought it was quite enough for Akira to have home tuition for maths and science. But I think drawing is important too. A child should develop his imagination while he’s young. The teachers at school all agreed with me. But he gets on best with maths. I think maths is very important, don’t you?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Sachiko. “I’m sure it’s very useful.”

“Maths sharpens children’s minds. You’ll find most children good at maths are good at most other things. My husband and I were in no disagreement about getting a maths tutor. And it’s been well worth it. Last year, Akira always came third or fourth in his class, but this year he’s been top throughout.”

“Maths is easy,” the boy announced. Then he said to Mariko: “Do you know the nine times table?”

His mother laughed again. “I expect the little lady’s very clever too. Her drawing certainly shows promise.”

“Maths is easy,” the boy said again. “The nine times table is easy as anything.”

“Yes, Akin knows all his multiplication now. A lot of children his age only know it up to three or four. Akira, what’s nine times five?”

“Nine times five make forty-five!” “And nine times nine?"

“Nine times nine make eighty-one!”

The American woman asked Sachiko omething, and when Sachiko nodded she clapped her hands and once more repeated the word ‘delicious’ several times.

“Your daughter seems a bright little lady,” the plump- faced woman said to Sachiko. “Does she enjoy school? Akira likes almost everything at school. Apart from maths and drawing, he gets on very well with geography. My friend here was very surprised to find Akira knew the names of all the large cities in America. Weren’t you, SuzieSan?” The woman turned to her friend and spoke several faltering words of English. The American woman did not appear to understand, but smiled approvingly towards the boy.

“But maths is Akira’s favourite subject. Isn’t it, Akira?”

“Maths is easy!”

“And what does the little lady enjoy most at school?” the woman asked, turning again to Mariko.

Mariko did not answer for a moment. Then she said: “I like math too."

“You like math too. That’s splendid.”

“What’s nine times six then?” the boy asked her angrily. “It’s so nice when children take an interest in their schoolwork, isn’t it?” said his mother.

“Go on, what’s nine times six?”

I asked: “What does Akira-San want to do when he grows up?”

“Akira, tell the lady what you’re going to become.”

“Head Director of Mitsubishi Corporation!”

“His father’s firm’ his mother explained. “Akira’s already very determined."

“Yes, I see,” I said, smiling. “How wonderful,”

“Who does your father work for?” the boy asked Mariko.

“Now, Akira, don’t be too inquisitive, it’s not nice.” The woman turned to Sachiko again. “A lot of boys his age are still saying they want to be policemen or firemen. But Akira’s wanted to work for Mitsubishi since he was much younger.”

“Who does your father work for?” the boy asked again. This time his mother, instead of intervening, looked towards Mariko expectantly.

“He’s a zoo-keeper,” said Mariko.

For a brief moment, no one spoke. Curiously, the answer

seemed to humble the boy, and he sat back on his bench- with a sulky expression. Then his mother said a little uncertainly:

“What an interesting occupation. We’re very fond of animals. Is your husband’s zoo near here?”

Before Sachiko could reply, Mariko had clambered off the bench noisily. Without a word, she walked away from us, towards a cluster of trees nearby. We all watched her for a moment.

“Is she your eldest?” the woman asked Sachiko, “I have no others.”

“Oh, I see, It’s no bad thing really. A child can become more independent that way. I think a child often works harder too. There’s six years’ difference between this one”—she put her hand on the boy’s head—“and the eldest one.”

The American woman produced a loud exclamation and clapped her hands. Mariko was progressing steadily up the branches of a tree. The plump-faced woman turned in her seat and looked up at Mariko worriedly.

“Your daughter’s quite a tomboy,” she said.

The American woman repeated the word “tomboy” gleefully, and clapped her hands again.

“Is it safe?" the plump-faced woman asked. “She might fall."

Sachiko smiled, and her manner towards the woman seemed to grow suddenly warmer. “Are you not used to children climbing trees?” she asked.

The woman continued to watch anxiously. Are you sure it’s safe? A branch may break”

Sachiko gave a laugh. “I’m sure my daughter knows what she’s doing. Thank you all the same for your concern. It’s so kind of you. She gave the woman an elegant bow. The American woman said something to Sachiko, and they began conversing again in English. The plump-faced woman turned away from the trees.

“Please don’t think me impertinent," she said, putting a hand on my arm, “but I couldn’t help noticing. Will this be your first time?"

Yes,” I said, with a laugh. “Were expecting it in the autumn."

“How splendid. And your husband, is he also a zoo- keeper?"

“Oh no. Reworks for an electronics firm”

Really?”

The woman began to give me advice concerning the care of babies. Meanwhile, I could see over her shoulder the boy wandering away from the table towards Mariko’s tree.

“And it’s an idea to let the child hear a lot of good music,” the woman was saying. “I’m sure that makes a lot of difference. A child should hear good music amongst his earliest sounds."

“Yes, I’m very fond of music.”

The boy was standing at the foot of the tree, looking up at Mariko with a puzzled expression.

“Our older son doesn’t have as fine an ear for music as Akira,” the woman went on.. “My husband says this is because he didn’t hear enough good music when he was a baby, and I tend to think he’s right. In those days, the radio was broadcasting so much military music. I’m sure it did no good at all.”

As the woman continued to talk, I could see the boy trying to find a foothold in the tree-trunk. Mariko had come lower and appeared to be advising him. Beside me, the American woman kept laughing loudly, occasionally uttering single words of Japanese. The boy finally managed to hoist himself off the ground; he had one foot pressed into a crevice and was holding on to a branch with both hands.

Although only a few centimeters off the ground. he seemed in a state of high tension. It was hard to say if she did so deliberately, but as she lowered herself, the little girl trod firmly on the boy’s fingers. The boy gave a shriek, falling clumsily.

The mother turned in alarm Sachiko and the American woman, neither of whom had seen the incident, also turned towards the fallen boy. He was lying on his side making a loud noise. His mother ran to him and kneeling beside him began to feel his legs. The boy continued his noises. Across the clearing, passengers waiting for the cable-car were all looking our way. After a minute or so, the boy came sobbing to the table, guided by his mother.

“Tree-climbing is so dangerous," the woman said, angrily.

“He didn’t fall far,” I assured her. “He was hardly on the tree at all.”

“He might have broken a bone. I think children should be discouraged from climbing trees. It’s so silly.”

“She kicked me,” the boy sobbed. “She kicked me off the tree. She tried to kill me.”

“She kicked you? The little girl kicked you?”

I saw Sachiko cast a glance towards her daughter. Mariko was once more high up the tree.

“She tried to kill me.”

“The little girl kicked you?”

“Your son just slipped,” I interrupted quickly. “I saw it all. He hardly fell any distance.”

“She kicked me. She tried to kill me.”

The woman also turned and glanced towards the tree. “He just slipped,” I said again. You shouldn’t be doing such silly things, Akira,” the woman said, angrily. “It’s very very dangerous to climb trees."

“She tried to kill me.”

“You’re not to go up trees.”

The boy continued to sob.

In Japanese cities, much more so than in England, the restaurant owners, the teahouse proprietors, the shopkeepers all seem to will the darkness to fall; long before the daylight has faded, lanterns appear in the windows, lighted signs above doorways. Nagasaki was already full of the colours of night-time as we came back out into the street that evening; we had left Inasa in the late afternoon and had been eating supper on the restaurant floor of the Hamaya department store. Afterwards, reluctant to end the day, we found ourselves strolling through the side streets, in little hurry to reach the tram depot. In those days, I remember it had become the vogue for young couples to be seen in public holding hands something Jiro and I had never done—and as we walked we saw many such couples seeking their evening’s entertainment. The sky, as often on those summer evenings, had become a pale purple colour. Many of the stalls sold fish, and at that time of the evening, when the fishing boats were coming into the harbour, one would often see men pushing their way through the crowded side streets, carrying on their shoulders baskets heavy with freshly caught fish. It was in one such sidestreet, filled with litter and casually strolling people, that we came across the kujibiki stand. Since it was never my habit to indulge in kujibiki and since it has no equivalents here in England—except perhaps in fairgrounds—I might well have forgotten the existence of such a thing were it not for my memory of that particular evening.

We stood at the back of the crowd and watched. A woman was holding up a young boy of around two or three; upon the platform, a man with a handkerchief tied around his head was stooping forward with the bowl so the child could reach. The boy managed to pick out a ticket, but did not seem to know what to do with it. He held it in his hand and looked emptily at the amused faces all around him. The man with the handkerchief bent lower and made some remark to the child which caused the people round about to laugh. In the end, the mother lowered her child, took the ticket from him, and handed it to the man. The ticket won a lipstick, which the woman accepted with a laugh.

Mariko was standing on her tip-toes, trying to see the prizes displayed at the back of the stall. Suddenly she turned to Sachiko and said: “I want to buy a ticket.”

“It’s rather a waste of money, Mariko.”

“I want to buy a ticket.” There was a curious urgency in her manner. “I want to try the kujibiki.”

“Here you are, Mariko-San.” I offered her a coin.

She turned to me, a little surprised. Then she took the coin and pushed her way through to the front of the crowd.

A few more contestants tried their luck; a woman won a piece of candy, a middle-aged man won a rubber ball. Then came Mariko’s turn.

“Now, little princess,”—the man shook the bowl with deliberation—“close your eyes and think hard about that big bear over there.”

“I don’t want the bear," said Mariko.

The man made a face and the people laughed. “You don’t want that big furry bear? Well, well, little princess, what is it you want then?”

Mariko pointed to the back of the stall. “That basket," she said.

“The basket?” The man shrugged. “All right, princess, close your eyes tight and think about your basket. Ready?” Mariko’s ticket won a flowerpot. She came back to where we were standing and handed me her prize.

“Don’t you want it?” l asked. You won it.”

“I wanted the basket. The kittens need a basket of their own now."

“Well, never mind.”

Mariko turned to her mother. “I want to try once more.“Sachiko sighed. “It’s getting late now.”

“I want to try. Just once more.”

Again, she pushed her way to the platform. As we waited, Sachiko turned to me and said:

“It’s funny, but I had a quite different impression of her. Your friend, Mrs. Fujiwara, I mean.”

Oh?”

Sachiko leaned her head to see past the spectators. “NO, Etsuko,” she said, “I’m afraid I never saw her in quite the way you do, Your friend struck me as a woman with nothing left in her life."

“But that’s not true," I said.

“Oh? And what does she have to look forward to, Etsuko? What does she have to live for?”

“She has her shop. It’s nothing grand, but it means a lot to her.”

“Her shop?”

“And she has her son. Her son has a very promising Career.

Sachiko was looking again towards the stall. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said, with a tired smile. “I suppose she has her son.”

This time Mariko won a pencil, and came back to us with a sullen expression. We started to go, but Mariko was still looking towards the Kujibiki stand.

“Come on,” Sachiko said. “Etsuko-San needs to be getting home now.”

“I want to try once more. Just once more.”

Sachiko sighed impatiently, then looked at me. I shrugged and gave a laugh.

“All right,” said Sachiko. “Try once more.”

Several more people won prizes. Once a young woman, won a face-compact and the appropriateness of the prize provoked some applause. On seeing Mariko appear for the third time, the man with the handkerchief pulled another of his amusing faces.

“Well, little princess, back again! Still want the basket?, Wouldn’t you prefer that big furry bear?”

Mariko said nothing, waiting (or the man to offer her the bowl. When she had picked out a ticket, the man examined it closely, then glanced behind him to where the prizes were exhibited. He scrutinized the ticket once more, then finally gave a nod.

“You haven’t won the basket. But you have won—a major prize!"

There was laughter and applause all around. The man went to the back of the stall and returned with what looked like a large wooden box.