A Pale View of Hills

It is possible that my memory of these events will have grown hazy with time, that things did not happen in quite the way they come back to me today. But I remember with some distinctness that eerie spell which seemed to bind the two of us as we stood there in the coming darkness looking towards that shape furtther down the bank. Then the spell broke and we both began to run. As we came nearer, I saw Mariko lying curled on her side, knees hunched, her back towards us. Sachiko reached the spot a little ahead of me, I being slowed by my pregnancy, and she was standing over the child when I joined her. Mariko’s eyes were open and at first I thought she was dead. But then I saw them move and they stared up at us with a peculiar blankness.

Sachiko dropped on to one knee and lifted the child’s head. Mariko continued to stare.

“Mariko-San, are you all right?” I said, a little out of breath.

She did not reply. Sachiko too was silent, examining her daughter, turning her in her arms as if she were a fragile, but senseless doll. I noticed the blood on Sachiko’s sleeve, then saw it was coming from Mariko.

“We’d better call someone,” I said.

“It’s not serious,” Sachiko said. “It’s just a graze. See, it’s just a small cut.”

Mariko had been lying in a puddle and one side of her short dress was soaked in dark water. The blood was coming from a wound on the inside of her thigh.

“What happened?’ Sachiko said to her daughter. “What happened to you?’

Mariko went on looking at her mother.

“She’s probably shocked,” I said. ‘Perhaps it’s best not to question her immediately.”

Sachiko brought Mariko to her feet. -

“We were very worried about you, Mariko-San,” I said. The little girl gave me a suspicious look, then turned away and started to walk. She walked quite steadily; the wound on her leg did not seem to trouble her unduly.

We walked back over the bridge and along the river. The two of them walked in front of me, not talking. It was completely dark by the time we reached the cottage.

Sachiko took Mariko into the bathroom, lilt the stove in the centre of the main room to make some tea. Aside from the stove, an old hanging lantern Sachiko had lit provided the only source of light, and large areas of the room remained in shadow. In one corner several tiny black kittens aroused by our arrival started to move restlessly. Their claws, catching in the tatami, made a scuttling noise.

When they appeared again, both mother and daughter had changed into kimonos. They went through to one of the small adjoining rooms and I continued to wait for some time. The sound of Sachiko’s voice came through the screen.

Finally, Sachiko came out alone. “It’s still very hot,” she remarked, She crossed the room and slid apart the partitions which opened out onto the veranda.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s all right. The cut’s nothing.” Sachiko sat down in the breeze, next to the partitions.

“Shall we report the matter to the police?’

“The police? But what is there to report? Mariko says she was climbing a tree and fell. That’s how she got her cut.”

“So she wasn’t with anyone tonight?”

“No. Who could she have been with?’

“And what about this woman?’ I said.

“What woman?’

“This woman Mariko talks about. Are you still certain she’s imaginary?”

Sachiko sighed. ‘She’s not entirely imaginary’, I suppose” she said. ‘She’s just someone Mariko saw once. Once, when she was much younger.’

“But do you think she could have been here tonight, this woman?”

Sachiko gave a laugh. “No, Etsuko, that’s quite impossible in any case, that woman’s dead. Believe me, Etsuko, all this about a woman, it’s just a little game Mariko likes to play when she means to be difficult. I’ve grown

quite used to these little games of hers.”

“But why should she tell stories like that?”

“Why?” Sachiko shrugged. “It’s just what children like to do. Once you become a mother, Etsuko, you’ll need to get used to such things.”

“You’re sure she was with no one tonight?”

“Quite sure. I know my own daughter well enough.”

We fell silent for a moment. Mosquitoes were humming in the air around us. Sachiko gave a yawn, covering her mouth with a hand.

“So you see, Etsuko,’ she said, “I’ll be leaving Japan very shortly. You don’t seem very impressed.”

“Of course I am. And I’m very pleased, if this is what you wished. But won’t there be

various difficulties?’

“Difficulties?”

“I mean, moving to a different country, with a different language and foreign ways.”

“1 understand your concern, Etsuko. But really, I don’t think there’s much for me to worry about. You see, I’ve heard so much about America, it won’t be like an entirely foreign country. And as for the language, I already speak it to a certain extent. Frank-San and I, we always talk in English. Once I’ve been in America for a little while, I should speak it like an American woman. I really don’t see there’s any cause for me to be worrying. I know I’ll manage.”