A Pale View of Hills

by Kazuo Ishiguro

  “But really. I…”

  “Come on, Etsuko, I insist. Ask me about him. I dà want you to. Ask me about him, Etsuko.”

  “Very well then.”

  “Well? Go on, Etsuko, ask.”

  “Very well. What does he look like, your friend?”

  “What does he look like?” Sachiko laughed again. “Is that all you wish to know? Well, he’s tall like most of these foreigners, and his hair’s going a little thin. He’s not old, you understand. Foreigners go bald more easily, did you know that, Etsuko? Now ask me something else about him. There must be other things you want to know.”

  “Well, quite honestly …”

  “Come on, Etsuko, ask. I want you to ask.”

  “But really, there’s nothing I wish to …”

  “But there must be, why won’t you ask? Ask me about him, Etsuko, ask me.”

  “Well, in fact,” I said, “I did wonder about one thing.”

  Sachiko seemed to suddenly freeze. She had been holding her hands together in front of her, but now she lowered them and placed them back on her lap.

  “I did wonder”, I said, “if he spoke Japanese at all.”

  For a moment, Sachiko said nothing. Then she smiled and her manner seemed to relax. She lifted her teacup again and took several sips. Then when she spoke again, her voice sounded almost dreamy.

  “Foreigners have so much trouble with our language,” she said. She paused and smiled to herself. “Frank’s Japanese is quite terrible, so we converse in English. Do you know English at all, Etsuko? Not at all? You see, my father used to speak good English. He had connections in Europe and he always used to encourage me to study the language. But then of course, when I married, I stopped learning. My husband forbade it. He took away all my English books. But I didn’t forget it. When I met foreigners in Tokyo, it came back to me.”

  We sat in silence for a little while. Then Sachiko gave a tired sigh.

  “I suppose I’d better get back fairly soon,” she said. She reached down and picked up the folded scarf. Then without inspecting it, she dropped it into her handbag.

  “You won’t have a little more tea?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Just a little more perhaps.”

  I refilled the cups. Sachiko watched me, then said: “If it’s inconvenient about tonight, I mean—it wouldn’t matter at all. Mariko should be capable of being left on her own by now.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m sure my husband won’t object.”

  “You’re very kind, Etsuko,” Sachiko said, in a flat tone. Then she said: “I should warn you, perhaps. My daughter has been in a somewhat difficult mood these past few days.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, smiling. “I’ll need to get used to children in every kind of mood.”

  Sachiko went on drinking her tea slowly. She seemed in no hurry to be returning. Then she put down her teacup and for some moments sat examining the back of her hands. “I know it was a terrible thing that happened here in Nagasaki,” she said, finally. “But it was bad in Tokyo too. Week after week it went on, it was very bad. Towards the end we were all living in tunnels and derelict buildings and there was nothing but rubble. Everyone who lived in Tokyo saw unpleasant things. And Mariko did too.” She continued to gaze at the back of her hands.

  “Yes,” I said. “It must have been a very difficult time.”

  “This woman. This woman you’ve heard Mariko talk about. That was something Mariko saw in Tokyo. She saw other things in Tokyo, some terrible things, but she’s always remembered that woman.” She turned over her hands and looked at the palms looking from one to the other as if to compare them.

  “And this woman,” I said. “She was killed in an air- raid?”

  “She killed herself. They said she cut her throat. I never knew her. You see, Mariko went running off one morning. I can’t remember why, perhaps she was upset about something. Anyway she went running off out into the streets, so I went chasing after her. It was very early, there was nobody about. Mariko ran down an alleyway, and I followed after her. There was a canal at the end and the woman was kneeling there, up to her elbows ifljer. A young woman, very thin. I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw her. You see, Etsuko, she turned round and smiled at Mariko. I knew something was wrong and Mariko must have done too because she stopped running. At first I thought the woman was blind, she had that kind of look, her eyes didn’t seem to actually see anything. Well, she brought her arms out of the canal and showed us what she’d been holding under the water. It was a baby. I took hold of Mariko then and we came out of the alley.”

  I remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Sachiko helped herself to more tea from the pot.

  “As I say,” she said, “I heard the woman killed herself. That was a few days afterwards.”

  “How old was Mariko then?”

  “Fjye, almost six. She saw other things in Tokyo. But she always remembers that woman.”

  “She saw everything? She saw the baby?’

  “Yes. Actually, for a long time I thought she hadn’t understood what she’d seen. She didn’t talk about it afterwards. She didn’t even seem particularly upset at the time. She didn’t start talking about it until a month or so later. We were sleeping in this old building then. I woke up in the night and saw Mariko sitting up, staring at the doorway. There wasn’t a door, it was just this doorway, and Mariko was sitting up looking at it. I was quite alarmed. You see, there was nothing to stop anyone walking into the building. I asked Mariko what was wrong and she said a woman had been standing there watching us. I asked what sort of woman and Mariko said it was the one we’d seen that morning. Watching us from the doorway. I got up and looked around but there wasn’t anyone there. It’s quite possible, of course, that some woman was standing there. There was nothing to stop anyone stepping inside.”

  “I see. And Mariko mistook her for the woman you’d seen.”

  “I expect that’s what happened. In any case, that’s when it started, Mariko’s obsession with that woman. I thought she’d grown out of it, but just recently it’s started again. If she starts to talk about it tonight, please don’t pay her any attention.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “You know how it is with children,” said Sachiko. “They play at make-believe and they get confused where their fantasies begin arid end.’

  “Yes, I suppose it’s nothing unusual really.”

  “You see, Etsuko, things were very difficult when Mariko was born.”

  “Yes, they must have been,” I said. “I’m very fortunate, I know.”

  “Things were very difficult. Perhaps it was foolish t9 have married when I did. After all, everyone could see a war was coming. But then again. Etsuko, no one knew what a war was really like, not in those days. I married into a highly respected family. I never thought a war could change things so much.”

  Sachiko put down her teacup and passed a hand through her hair. Then she smiled quickly. “As regards tonight, Etsuko,’ she said, “my daughter is quite capable of amusing herself. So please don’t bother too much with her.”

  Mrs Fujiwara’s face often grew weary when she talked about her son.

  “He’s becoming an old man,” she was saying. “Soon he’ll have only the old maids to choose from.’

  We were sitting in the forecourt of her noodle shop. Several tables were occupied by office-workers having their lunch.

  “Poor Kazuo-San,” Isaid, with a laugh. “But Ican understand how he feels. It was so sad about Miss Michiko. And they were engaged for a long time, weren’t they?”

  “Three years. I never saw the point in these long engagements. Yes, Michiko was a nice girl. I’m sure she’d be the first to agree with me about Kazuo mourning her like this. She would have wanted him to continue with his life.”

  “It must be difficult for him though. To have built up plans for so long only for things to end like that.”

  “But that’s all in the past now,” said Mrs. Fujiwara. “We�
��ve all had to put things behind us. You too, Etsuko, I remember you were very heartbroken once. But you managed to carry on.”

  “Yes, but I was fortunate. Ogata-San was very kind to me in those days. I don’t know what would have become of me otherwise.”

  Yes, he was very kind to you. And of course, that’s how you met your husband. But you deserved to be fortunate.”

  “I really don’t know where I’d be today if Ogata-San hadn’t taken me in. But I can understand how difficult it must be—for your son, I mean. Even mel still think about Nakamura-San sometimes. I can’t help it. Sometimes I wake up and forget. I think I’m still back here, here in Nakagawa

  “Now, Etsuko, that’s no way to talk.” Mrs. Fujiwara looked at me for some moments, then gave a sigh. “But it happens to me too. Like you say, in the mornings, just as you wake, it can catch you unawares. I often wake up thinking I’ll have to hurry and get breakfast ready for them all.”

  We fell silent for a moment. Then Mrs. Fujiwara laughed a little.

  “You’re very bad, Etsuko,” she said. “See, you’ve got me talking like this now.”

  “It’s very foolish of me,” I said. “In any case, Nakamura-San and I, there was never anything between us. I mean, nothing had been decided.”

  Mrs. Fujiwara went on looking at me, nodding to some private train of thought. Then across the forecourt a customer stood up, ready to leave.

  I watched Mrs. Fujiwara go over to him, a neat young man in shirt-sleeves. They bowed to each other and began chatting cheerfully. The man made some remark as he buttoned his briefcase and Mm Fujiwara laughed heartily. They exchanged bows once more, then he disappeared into the afternoon rush. I was grateful for the opportunity to compose my emotions. When Mrs. Fujiwara came back, I said:

  “I’d better be leaving you soon. You’re very busy just now.”

  “You just stay there and relax. You’ve only just sat down. I’ll get you some lunch.”

  “No, that’s all right.”

  “Now, Etsuko, if you don’t eat here, you won’t eat lunch for another hour. You know how important it is for you to eat regularly at this stage.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.’

  Mrs. Fujiwara looked at me closely for a moment. Then she said: “You’ve everything to look forward to now, Etsuko. What are you so unhappy about?”

  “Unhappy? But I’m not unhappy in the least.”

  She continued to look at me, and I laughed nervously.

  “Once the child comes,” she said, “you’ll be delighted, believe me. And you’ll make a splendid mother, Etsuko.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “Yes.”! looked up and smiled.

  Mrs. Fujiwara nodded, then rose to her feet once more.

  The inside of Sachiko’s cottage had grown increasingly dark—there was only one lantern in the room—and at first I thought Mariko was staring at a black mark on the wall. She reached out a finger and the shape moved a little. Only then did I realize it was a spider.

  “Mariko, leave that alone. That’s not nice.”

  She put both hands behind her back, but went on staring at the spider.

  “We used to have a cat once,’ she said. “Before we came here. She used to catch spiders.”

  “I see. No, leave it alone, Mariko.”

  “But it’s not poisonous.”

  “No, but leave it alone, it’s dirty.’

  “The cat we used to have, she could eat spiders. What would happen if late a spider?’

  “I don’t know, Mariko.”

  “Would I be sick?”

  “I don’t know” I went back to the sewing I had brought with me. Mariko continued to watch the spider. Eventually she said: “I know why you came here tonight.”

  “I came because its not nice for little girls to be on their own.”

  “It’s because of the woman, It’s because the woman might come again.”

  “Why don’t you show me some more drawings? The ones you showed me )ust now were lovely.”

  Mariko did not reply. She moved over to the window and looked out into the darkness.

  “Your mother won’t be long now,” I said. “Why don’t you show me some more drawings.”

  Mariko continued to look into the darkness. Eventually, she returned to the corner where she had been sitting before the spider had attracted her attention.;

  “How did you spend your day today, Mariko?” [asked. “Did you do any drawing?”

  “I played with Atsu and Mee-Chan.”

  “That’s nice. And where do they live? Are they from the apartments?”

  “That’s Atsu”—she pointed to one of the small black kittens beside her—“and that’s Mee-Chan.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I see. They’re lovely little kittens, aren’t they? But don’t you ever play with other children? The children from the apartments?”

  “I play with Atsu and Mee-Chan.”

  “But you should by and make friends with the other children. I’m sure they’re all very nice.”

  “They stole Suji-Chan. He was my favourite kitten.”

  “They stole him? Oh dear, I wonder why they did that.” Mariko began stroking a kitten. “I’ve lost Suji-Chan now.”

  “Perhaps hell turn up soon. I’m sure the children were just playing.”

  “They killed him, I’ve lost Suji-Chan now.”

  “Oh. I wonder why they did a thing Like that.”

  “I threw stones at them. Because they said things.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t throw stones, Mariko.’

  “They said things. About Mother. I threw stones at them and they took Suji-Chan and wouldn’t give him back.”

  “Well, you’ve still got your other kittens.”

  Mariko moved across the room towards the window again. She was just tall enough to lean her elbows on the ledge. For a few minutes she looked into the darkness, her face close to the pane.

  “I want to go out now,” she said, suddenly.

  “Go out? But it’s far too late, it’s dark outside. And your mother will be back any time now.”

  “Hut I want to go out.”

  “Stay hem now, Mariko.”

  She continued to look outside. I tried to see what was visible to her; from where I sat I could see only darkness.

  “Perhaps you should be kinder to the other children. Then you could make friends with them

  “I know why Mother asked you to come here.”

  You can’t expect to make friends if you throw stones.”

  “It’s because of the woman. ft’s because Mother knows about the woman”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Mariko-San. Tell me more about your kittens. Will you draw more pictures of them when they get bigger?’

  “It’s because the woman might come again. That’s why Mother asked you:’

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Mother’s seen the woman. She saw her the other night.”

  I Stopped sewing for a second and looked up at Mariko. She had turned away from the window and was gazing at me with a Strangely expressionless look.

  “Where did your mother see this—this person?

  “Out there. She saw her out there. That’s why she asked you.”

  Mariko came away from the window and returned to her kittens. The older cat had appeared and the kittens had curled up to their mother. Mariko, lay down beside then, and started to whisper. Her whispering had a vaguely disturbing quality.

  “Your mother should be home soon,” I said. “I wonder what she can be doing.”

  Mariko continued whispering.

  “She was telling me au about Frank-san,” I said. “He sounds a very nice man.”

  The whispering noises stopped. We stared at each other for a second or so “He’s a bad man’ Mariko said.

  “Now that’s not a nice thing to say, Mariko-San. Your mother told me all about him and he sounds very nice. And I’m sure he’s very
kind to you, isn’t he?"

  She got to her feet and went to the wall. The spider was stiU there.

  “Yes, I’m sure he’s a nice man. He’s kind to you, isn’t he, Mariko-San?”

  Mariko reached forward. The spider moved quite slowly along the wall.

  “Mariko, leave that alone.”

  “The cat we had in Tokyo, she used to catch spiders. We were going to bring her with us.”

  I could see the spider more clearly in its new position. It had thick short legs, each leg casting a shadow on the yellow wall.

  “She was a good cat,” Mariko continued. was going to come with us to Nagasaki.”

  “And did you bring her?’

  “She disappeared. The day before we were leaving. Mother promised we could bring her, but she disappeared.”

  “I see.”

  She moved suddenly and caught one of the spider’s legs. The remaining legs crawled frantically around her hand as she brought it away from the wall.

  Mariko, let that go. That’s dirty.”

  Mariko turned over her hand and the spider crawled into her palm. She closed her other hand over it so that it was imprisoned.

  “Mariko, put that down.”

  “It’s not poisonous,” she said, coming closer to me. No, but it’s dirty. Put it back in the corner”

  “It’s not poisonous though.

  She stood in front of me, the spider inside her cupped hands. Through a gap in her fingrs, ld see a leg moving slowly and rhythmically

  “Put it back in the corner, Mariko.”

  “What would happen if late it? It’s not poisonous"

  “You’d be very sick. Now, Mariko, put it back in the corner.”

  Mariko brought the spider closer to her face and parted her lips.

  “Don’t be silly, Mariko, That’s very dirty."

  Her mouth opened wider, and then her hands parted and the spider landed in front of my lap. I started back. The spider sped along the tatami into the shadows behind me. It took me a moment to recover, and by then Mariko had left the cottage.