Mariko remained silent for a moment. Then she said: “The crayons are new. We bought them this morning. It’s harder to draw with new crayons.”
“I see. Yes, new crayons are harder, aren’t they? Akira here draws too, don’t you, Akira?”
“Drawing’s easy,” the boy said.
“Aren’t these nice little pictures, Akira?”
Mariko pointed to the open page. “I don’t like that one there. The crayons weren’t worn in enough. The one on the next page is better.”
“Oh yes. This one’s lovely!”
“I did it down at the harbour,” said Mariko. “But it was noisy and hot down there, so I hurried.”
“But it’s very good. Do you enjoy drawing?”
“Yes.”
Sachiko and the American woman had both turned towards the sketchbook. The American woman pointed at the drawing and uttered loudly several times the Japanese word for “delicious”.
“And what’s this?” the plump-faced woman continued. “A butterfly! It must have been very hard to draw it so well. It couldn’t have stayed still for very long.”
“I remembered it,” said Mariko. “I saw one earlier on.”
The woman nodded, then turned to Sachiko. “How clever your daughter is. I think it’s very commendable for a child to use her memory and imagination. So many children at this age are still copying out of books.”
“Yes,” said Sachiko. “I suppose so.”
I was rather surprised at the dismissiveness of her tone, for she had been talking to the American woman in her most gracious manner. The tubby boy leaned further across the table and put his finger to the page.
“Those ships are too big,” he said. “If that’s supposed to be a tree, then the ships would be much smaller.”
His mother considered this for a moment. “Well, perhaps,” she said. “But it’s a lovely little drawing all the same. Don’t you think so, Akira?”
“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, Akira 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 something, 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, Suzie-San?” 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 maths too.”
“You like maths 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. “We’re expecting it in the autumn.”