also by the author
The Informer
The Tattoo Murder Case
Honeymoon to Nowhere was first published in English
translation in Australia by the Anthos Publishing Company.
Originally published in Japanese as Zero No Mitsugetsu
Copyright © Akimitsu Takagi 1965
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by
Soho Press, Inc.
853 Broadway
New York, NY 10003
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Takagi, Akimitsu, 1920–1995
[Zero no mitsugetsu. English]
Honeymoon to nowhere / [Akimitsu Takagi: translated
by Sadako Mizuguchi.
ISBN 978-1-56947-154-8
eISBN 978-1-61695-026-2
I. Mizuguchi, Sadako. II. Title.
PL882.A4Z2513 1985
895.6’35—dc21 98-31948
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
Honeymoon to Nowhere
1
Etsuko Ogata was sweeping up dead leaves in the garden. She moved mechanically, biting her lip, her back toward the clear blue sky, her eyes on the black soil.
The sound of the piano next door pervaded the Sunday morning quiet. The girl’s power of concentration was fantastic, Etsuko thought as she listened to the music. The neighbor’s daughter was attending music school. Even during the recent Tokyo Olympic Games the piano had never stopped for a single day.
Right now she was playing Chopin’s Étude No. 3 in E major, popularly known as the Farewell Melody. Etsuko wished the girl would switch to something else—this one was making her heart beat faster.
Sweet memories of love merged with the sorrow of farewell in the tune, and it was precisely this which upset her because she had no sweet memories at all of the parting with him. It had only left a wound, still fresh enough to start bleeding on any pretext. If it had to be a melody by Chopin, she thought, Sonata No. 2, the Funeral March, would be much more in keeping with the way she felt these days.
Etsuko squatted down in front of a small heap of fallen leaves until her buttocks touched her heels. She took out a box of matches and a square envelope from her apron pocket. Inside the envelope was an invitation to a wedding reception. She had declined it, of course.
She struck a match, lit the envelope and dropped it on the heap of dead leaves. The paper flared up and the leaves began to smoulder. She removed her glasses with one hand, and with the other raised her apron to her face to wipe her eyes.
She was angry—with herself, her own madness. How could she blame him? He probably wouldn’t know to this day he had been anything more to her than the fiancé of her best friend. Love? The very idea was utterly ridiculous. It had been a crazy one-sided infatuation, the self-created agony of an imaginative woman of twenty-six whose chunky body was ready for a husband—for a gentle-hard man. That’s what it was, and she knew it.
But even now, a year later, she only had to think of his face and his hand—especially his hand with those neatly patterned black hairs, those long, firm fingers—to feel a sudden weakness in her loins. As always, this disturbing sensation polarized into a sense of shame in her mind and an irritating hunger in her groin. It made her dizzy.
Still squatting, she shifted her weight till one heel was wedged between her thighs. She pressed down on it as hard as she could . . .
Then she felt better and began to gather some more dead leaves which looked easier to burn. She put another match to the heap, and this time it caught fire easily. She wished the orange flames would burn away her yearnings so that she could be left in peace.
“Etsu! He’s leaving now. Will you see him off, please?”
It was Mrs. Ogata, her mother, calling out from the veranda.
See him off? Etsuko was puzzled. The visitor was Tetsuya Higuchi, a young lawyer who had long been a protege of her father, himself a lawyer. Higuchi was a regular visitor to the house—quite capable of letting himself out. So why all the fuss now?
But she couldn’t be bothered thinking about it any further. She put away the garden broom, took off her apron and went around to the entrance. The girl next door was now playing a melody vibrant with passion. It was Chopin’s Étude No. 12, Revolutionary.
•
Higuchi had just said goodbye to Mr. Ogata and was about to get into his car. He was only three years Etsuko’s senior but looked older than his age. His appearance was always faultless, suggesting a perfectionist.
Etsuko tried to put on a pleasant face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.”
Higuchi bowed with a strange clumsiness. His narrow eyes, set deep behind his glasses, had a glow in them that was also unusual.
“Well,” he said, almost stammering, “I’ve another engagement today . . . I’ll call again soon . . .”
What on earth was wrong with him, Etsuko wondered. Being a lawyer he was a fluent speaker by training, but right now he sounded as if something was stuck in his throat.
Holding the car door, Higuchi seemed to hesitate for a moment before getting in. Then he said, “Etsuko,” and then stopped again.
“Yes?”
“No, it doesn’t matter . . .” He blushed and hurriedly switched on the motor.
She stood there dutifully until Higuchi’s car turned at the corner toward Jiyugaoka station. Then she returned to the front entrance.
He had certainly been a bit queer today, she thought. Was he in some kind of trouble? Was that why he had come to see her father—to consult him?
But there was no sign of concern on her father’s face. On the contrary, he smiled—a rare phenomenon these days.
“Come with me, Etsu, will you? I’ve something to tell you.” The smile stayed on his pale lips as he spoke.
Etsuko looked at her father thoughtfully, wondering what he was up to. Then suddenly her own expression stiffened. But no, that was unthinkable . . . The black ashes of the invitation card she had just burnt began to drift across her mind.
When they reached the study he immediately settled into his swivel chair behind his desk. For the past thirty years of his life—more than twenty years as a prosecutor with the Criminal Affairs Division and nearly ten in his own private practice—Takuzo Ogata had spent most of his time in this room when he was at home. Etsuko often imagined that the whole study had been built of law books—each volume like a brick, each wall a different branch of the law.
He didn’t waste any time on preliminaries. “As you may have guessed,” he said, “Mr. Higuchi told me he’d like to marry you.”
Etsuko suppressed a sigh and cast her eyes to the floor. She didn’t say anything.
“I personally think this is excellent news, and your mother shares my opinion. She says this is a most desirable marriage proposal—just what we’ve been hoping for. Mr. Higuchi has been on intimate terms with our family for many years, and he has a very promising career. Not only does he possess a sharp brain; he is also diligent and ambitious. But you know all this, anyway—there’s hardly any need for me to sing his praises to you . . . To be completely honest with you, I’ve been secretly hoping for some time that one day he’d marry you. Only I didn’t want to raise the subject myself—I didn’t want to create the impression I was determined to have my own way . . .”
Higuchi had lost his father while still a student, and ever since then Ogata had been looking after him. And because the old man was so upright in everything, he fe
lt oddly constrained in the circumstances.
“. . . Well, how do you feel about it? . . . I know marriage is one of life’s biggest milestones and you may find it difficult to produce an answer straight away. But as Mr. Higuchi is almost one of the family, it should be much easier for you to judge him than some other man who might turn up with a marriage proposal. Don’t you agree?”
Etsuko didn’t look up and didn’t answer, and her father was beginning to grow annoyed. “Say something for heaven’s sake,” he snapped. “Don’t you like Mr. Higuchi?”
“I don’t dislike him . . . But I can’t say I particularly like him either.”
Ogata heaved a sigh and lit a cigarette.
“Etsu,” he said quietly after a little while, “you’re already twenty-six, you know, and won’t be getting any younger . . .”
She was conscious of her hips straining against her tight skirt—they seemed to be getting bigger every day. She must get back on her diet, she thought.
“. . .You’re well beyond the age of sweet romance, or dreamy love—call it whatever you like. Surely you’re mature enough now to look at things more realistically . . . Affection between man and woman grows naturally once they’re married. It was the same with us—your mother and me. What young people so fondly describe these days as love is not affection at all but fleeting passion that leaves nothing once it’s gone. It’s been proved statistically that the failure rate in so-called love-marriages is higher than in marriages contracted after a single meeting . . .”
Even though he was speaking now from a father’s august position, it was impossible for him not to become argumentative. As a lawyer he had made his name and money by arguing for the past thirty years.
Etsuko heard every word but was busy with her own thoughts. There was no question about it—this marriage proposal made sense. At least she had to admit she would be aiming far too high if she hoped for anything more than this. Besides, it was quite natural for her father to try to establish a suitable successor. Against his wishes his only son Kazuaki had joined the Mitsuboshi Trading Company and was now working in New York.
If this had happened a couple of years ago, she might have had more consideration for her father’s feelings and accepted his argument without resistance. Yes, she might have nodded readily, then. But now, even if it had been only a one-sided infatuation, after tasting its heady violence, the idea of marrying a man she wasn’t fond of seemed to her as tasteless as chewing sand.
And on top of that, after knowing him, she definitely didn’t want a husband who belonged to the legal fraternity. Somehow, marrying a lawyer seemed taboo to her. She felt that such a match would only open her wound wider instead of helping to heal it . . . But she knew she would be quite unable to explain all this to her father so he could understand it, let alone accept it.
“Now look here, Etsu,” he continued persuasively, “you’re intelligent and good-hearted, and I’m quite sure you’ll make an excellent wife and mother. I don’t think I’m being a doting father for saying this. You’re a fine girl with many good points, but unfortunately, your assets aren’t readily visible to other men . . . Let me put it this way—a man who recognizes your real value is obviously a keen observer. That’s why I think you shouldn’t miss this opportunity.”
At last Etsuko raised her eyes and opened her mouth. “Father,” she said, “I’m very grateful to Mr. Higuchi for his kind sentiments, and I do value your opinion. But I feel I’d need a little more time to think it over.”
“But of course! You just take your time—think about it at your leisure . . . Will two or three days be enough, do you think?”
Etsuko sucked in her breath. What would be the use of buying two or three days? “I meant a little longer than that.”
“A week then?”
“I—”
“For heaven’s sake, Etsu, a marriage proposal isn’t like a business offer one can chew over for a month or more. I hope you can understand that much.” He glared at her. “Or do you want to turn him down? Is that what you’d like to do?”
“No, it’s not that . . . It’s just that my mind isn’t prepared for marriage right now.”
“Accepting his proposal doesn’t mean you have to get married straight away. A normal six-month engagement period should give you all the time you need to get used to the idea.”
“But father, I don’t feel like getting married to anyone at present.”
He knitted his eyebrows and held her gaze with total concentration.
She still got frightened of him every time he looked at her this way. Now she was doubly scared because he made her feel as if she were a hostile witness about to be relieved of her secret in one easy move.
“Etsu,” he said slowly, “I’m your father, and I’m neither blind nor a fool. You don’t have to tell me anything—I can guess what happened to you last autumn. And if I consider certain circumstances relating to that period, I think I can establish the identity of the man you fell secretly in love with . . . Well, I won’t mention his name, and I do respect your feelings. Perhaps it was a rather harrowing experience for you . . . But you should get rid of that painful memory as soon as you can, don’t you think? I believe those two will get married soon. You should make a special effort to find new happiness. What do you say?”
Etsuko was almost ready to cry. He was perfectly right. She herself had reached exactly the same conclusion before burning the invitation card with the dead leaves a little while ago. The only thing was—emotions of this kind couldn’t be got rid of by reasoning.
Ogata said, “As you probably know, my health hasn’t been the best lately. My blood pressure is fairly high, and I get tired very quickly. Sometimes I can’t help being conscious of an ominous premonition . . . Anyway, I’d like to see you in bridal dress as soon as possible—while I’m still around. This is the thing foremost in my mind these days. And the older you get, Etsu, the more difficult it’ll be for you to find a suitable match. Would you please try to make up your mind as soon as you can?”
Looking at her father Etsuko realized he had indeed grown old all of a sudden. He had never been a robust man, living most of his life under the doctor’s eye. But lately he looked as if the strain of the past thirty years had taken its toll of him in one big installment. The truth—coming so openly from his own lips—made her heart turn over with compassion for him.
On the other hand, she couldn’t bring herself to accept his advice without questioning it. This would be unfair, not only to herself but to Higuchi as well. She wondered if there was someone else somewhere she’d be more willing to marry, even if her affection for him wouldn’t compare with what she had felt for him.
Her pale oval face was calm and resolute when finally she spoke up. “Father, I agree with everything you’ve said, but please give me at least three months to think it over. I wouldn’t like to give Mr. Higuchi the promise of a lifetime without being fairly confident I can grow fond of him as time goes on.”
Ogata softened his expression. “Yes, this seems reasonable enough . . . In other words, you’ll keep company with Mr. Higuchi for the next three months, and then give him a definite answer. Is that it?”
No, that isn’t it at all, she wanted to say, but didn’t have the courage to do it. If she told him she didn’t want to marry a lawyer under any circumstances and he hit the roof, who knew what might happen to him with his high blood pressure . . . She clearly remembered her father’s distress when her brother Kazuaki had declared he wouldn’t sit for the law entrance examination.
Finally she did the only thing she felt she could do—she nodded silently, and Ogata looked genuinely grateful.
He said, “Mr. Higuchi has visited this house a great many times over the years, but now that I think of it, there haven’t been many occasions when the two of you talked alone. Yes, that makes your attitude certainly reasonable enough
. Perhaps I’ve been too eager—I must be losing my touch.”
Etsuko left her father’s study feeling relieved and weighted down at the same time. I don’t dislike him, but I can’t say I particularly like him either. She had meant what she said at the time, but now that she was reconsidering it, the hand of the scale seemed to be leaning toward dislike.
Anyway, from now on she would have to go on dates with him whether she liked it or not. If during the next three months she managed to develop an interest in Higuchi, this at least might help her to forget about him . . .
Not that this was very likely to happen, though she wished it with all her heart. Even now she was vaguely conscious of that familiar weakness, just because she had thought of him . . . And would it be possible to grow fond of another man in three months—a man she had met constantly for years and hardly ever noticed?
But much as she tried, she could think of no other prospective suitor besides Higuchi. Her only real opportunity to meet eligible men was at parties held from time to time by the Kinome group which catered for single lawyers and the marriageable sons and daughters of legal families. But since she was determined not to marry a lawyer, members of this group were out of the question.
She had suggested a period of three months to her father but wasn’t at all sure anything would happen by the end of it . . .
It was two days later.
“Parcel, Miss Ogata,” the postman called out at the front.
Etsuko went to the entry and saw a small parcel sitting on the bench. It seemed to contain something like a book. There had been occasions when authors of legal works had sent her father complimentary copies, but this package was addressed to her. She had a vague notion of having seen the name of the sender, Yoshihiro Tsukamoto, somewhere before, but couldn’t place it at all.
She picked up the parcel and walked back with it to her room.
As she had thought, there was a book in it. It had the dull title, An Introduction to Economics, Unabridged Edition, and acknowledged the joint authorship of five people. The sender was one of them.
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