“Are you sure it’s the same Shigeo Matsuda?” asked Jiro.
“The same one. From Kuriyama Highschool. Extraordinary. I remember when he used to come to our house, to play with you. Your mother used to spoil him. I asked the librarian if I could buy a copy, and she said she would order one for me. I’ll show it to you.”
“It seems very disloyal,” I said.
“I was so surprised,” Ogata-San said, turning to me. “And I was the one who introduced him to the headmaster at Kuriyama.”
Jiro drank up his tea and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It’s very regrettable. As I say, I haven’t seen Shigeo for some time. I’m sorry, Father, but you must excuse me now or I’ll be late.”
“Why certainly. Have a good day at work.”
Jiro stepped down to the entryway, where he started to put on his shoes. I said to Ogata-San: “Someone who reached your position, Father, must expect a little criticism. That’s only natural.”
“Of course,” he said, breaking out into a laugh. “No, don’t concern yourself about it, Etsuko. I hadn’t given it a second thought. I just happened to think of it because Jiro was going to his reunion. I wonder if Endo read the article.”
“I hope you have a good day, Father,” Jiro called from the entryway. “I’ll try to be back a little early if I can.”
“Nonsense, don’t make such a fuss. Your work is important.”
A little later that morning, Ogata-San emerged from his room dressed in his jacket and tie.
“Are you going out, Father?” I asked.
“I thought I’d just pay a visit to Dr Endo.”
“Dr Endo?”
“Yes, I thought I’d go and see how he was keeping these days.”
“But you’re not going before lunch, are you?”
“I thought I’d better go quite soon,” he said, looking at his watch. “Endo lives a little way outside Nagasaki now. I’ll need to get a train.”
“Well, let me pack you a lunch-box, it won’t take a minute.”
“Why, thank you, Etsuko. In that case I’ll wait a few minutes. In fact, I was hoping you’d offer to pack me lunch.”
“Then you should have asked,” I said, getting to my feet. “You won’t always get what you want just by hinting like that, Father.”
“But I knew you’d pick me up correctly, Etsuko. I have faith in you.”
I went through to the kitchen, put on some sandals and stepped down to the tiled floor. A few minutes later, the partition slid open and Ogata-San appeared at the doorway. He seated himself at the threshold to watch me working.
“What is that you’re cooking me there?”
“Nothing much. Just left-overs from last night. At such short notice, you don’t deserve any better.”
“And yet you’ll manage to turn it into something quite appetizing, I’m sure. What’s that you’re doing with the egg? That’s not a left-over too, is it?”
“I’m adding an omelette. You’re very fortunate, Father, I’m in such a generous mood.”
“An omelette. You must teach me how to do that. Is it difficult?”
“Extremely difficult. It would be hopeless you trying to learn at this stage.”
“But I’m very keen to learn. And what do you mean ‘at this stage’? I’m still young enough to learn many new things.”
“Are you really planning on becoming a cook, Father?”
“It’s nothing to laugh at. I’ve come to appreciate cooking over the years. It’s an art, I’m convinced of it, just as noble as painting or poetry. It’s not appreciated simply because the product disappears so quickly.”
“Persevere with painting, Father. You do it much better.”
“Painting.” He gave a sigh. “It doesn’t give me the satisfaction it once did. No, I think I should learn to cook omelettes as well as you do, Etsuko. You must show me before I go back to Fukuoka.”
“You wouldn’t think it such an art once you’d learnt how it was done. Perhaps women should keep these things secret.”
He laughed, as if to himself, then continued to watch me quietly.
“Which are you hoping for, Etsuko?” he asked, eventually. “A boy or a girl?”
“I really don’t mind. If it’s a boy we could name him after you.”
“Really? Is that a promise?”
“On second thoughts I don’t know. I was forgetting what Father’s first name was. Seiji — that’s an ugly sort of name.”
“But that’s only because you find me ugly, Etsuko. I remember one class of pupils decided I resembled a hippopotamus. But you shouldn’t be put off by such outer trappings.”
“That’s true. Well, we’ll have to see what Jiro thinks.”
“Yes.”
“But I’d like my son to be named after you, Father.”
“That would make me very happy.” He smiled and gave me a small bow. “But then I know how irritating it is when relatives insist on having children named after them. I remember the time my wife and I argued over what to call Jiro. I wanted to name him after an uncle of mine, but my wife disliked this practice of naming children after relatives. Of course, she had her way in the end. Keiko was a hard woman to budge.”
“Keiko is a nice name. Perhaps if it’s a girl we could call her Keiko.”
“You shouldn’t make such promises so rashly. You’ll make an old man very disappointed if you don’t keep to them.”
“I’m sorry, I was just thinking aloud.”
“And besides, Etsuko, I’m sure there are others you’d prefer to name your child after. Others you were closer to.”
“Perhaps. But if it’s a boy I’d like him to be named after you. You were like a father to me once.”
“Am I no longer like a father to you?”
“Yes, of course. But it’s different.”
“Jiro is a good husband to you, I hope.”
“Of course. I couldn’t be happier.”
“And the child will make you happy.”
“Yes. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. We’re quite settled here now, and Jiro’s work is going well. This is the ideal time for this to have happened.”
“So you’re happy?”
“Yes, I’m very happy.”
“Good. I’m happy for you both.”
“There, it’s all ready for you.” I handed him the lacquer lunch-box.
“Ah yes, the left-overs,” he said, receiving it with a dramatic bow. He lifted the lid a little. “It looks delightful though.”
When I eventually went back into the living room, Ogata-San was putting on his shoes in the entryway.
“Tell me, Etsuko,” he said, not looking up from his laces. “Have you met this Shigeo Matsuda?”
“Once or twice. He used to visit us after we were married.”
“But he and Jiro aren’t such close friends these days?”
“Hardly. We exchange greeting cards, but that’s all.”
“I’m going to suggest to Jiro he writes to his friend. Shigeo should apologize. Or else I’ll have to insist Jiro disassociates himself from that young man.”
“I see.”
“I thought of suggesting it to him earlier, when we were talking at breakfast. But then that kind of talk is best left till the evening.”
“You’re probably right.”
Ogata-San thanked me once more for the lunch-box before leaving.
As it turned out, he did not bring the matter up that night. They both seemed tired when they came in and spent most of the evening reading newspapers, speaking little. And only once did Ogata-San mention Dr Endo. That was at supper, and he said simply: “Endo seemed well. He misses his work though. After all, the man lived for it.”
In bed that night, before we fell asleep, I said to Jiro: “I hope Father’s quite content with the way we’re receiving him.”