“What else can he expect?” my husband said. “Why don’t you take him out somewhere if you’re so worried.”
“Will you be working on Saturday afternoon?”
“How can I afford not to? I’m behind schedule as it is. He happened to choose the most difficult of times to visit me. It’s just too bad.”
“But we could still go out on Sunday, couldn’t we?”
I have a feeling I did not receive a reply then, though I lay gazing up into the darkness waiting. Jiro was often tired after a day’s work and not in the mood for conversation.
In any case, it seems I was worrying unduly about Ogata-San, for his visit that summer turned out to be one of his lengthiest. I remember he was still with us that night Sachiko knocked on our apartment door.
She was wearing a dress I had never seen before, and there was a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her face had been carefully made up, but a thin strand of hair had come loose and was hanging over her cheek.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Etsuko,” she said, smiling. “I was wondering if by any chance Mariko was here.”
“Mariko? Why, no.”
“Well, never mind. You haven’t seen her at all?”
“I’m afraid not. You’ve lost her?”
“There’s no need to look like that,” she said, with a laugh. “It’s just that she wasn’t, in the cottage when I got back, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll find her very soon.”
We were talking at the entryway, and I became aware of Jiro and Ogata-San looking towards us. I introduced Sachiko, and they all bowed to each other.
“This is worrying,” Ogata-San said. “Perhaps we’d better phone the police straight away.”
“There’s no need for that,” said Sachiko. “I’m sure I’ll find her.”
“But perhaps it’s best to be safe and phone anyway.”
“No really” — a slight hint of irritation had entered Sachiko’s voice — “there’s no need. I’m sure I’ll find her.”
“I’ll help you look for her,” I said, starting to put on my jacket.
My husband looked at me disapprovingly. He seemed about to speak, but then stopped himself. In the end, he said: “It’s almost dark now.”
“Really, Etsuko, there’s no need to make such a fuss,” Sachiko was saying. “But if you don’t mind coming out for a minute, I’ll be most grateful.”
“Take care, Etsuko,” Ogata-San said. “And phone the police if you don’t find the child soon.”
We descended the flight of stairs. Outside it was still warm, and across the wasteground the sun had sunk very low, highlighting the muddy furrows.
“Have you looked around the housing precinct?” I asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Let’s look then.” I began to walk rapidly. “Does Mariko have friends she may be with?”
“I don’t think so. Really, Etsuko” — Sachiko laughed and put a hand on my arm — “there’s no need to be so alarmed. Nothing will have happened to her. In fact, Etsuko, I really came round because I wanted to tell you some news. You see, it’s all been settled at last. We’re leaving for America within the next few days.”
“America?” Perhaps because of Sachiko’s hand on my arm, perhaps out of sheer surprise, I stopped walking.
“Yes, America. You’ve no doubt heard of such a place.” She seemed pleased at my astonishment.
I began to walk again. Our precinct was an expanse of paved concrete, interrupted occasionally by thin young trees planted when the buildings had gone up. Above us, lights had come on in most of the windows.
“Aren’t you going to ask me anything more?” Sachiko said, catching up with me. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m going? And who I’m going with?”
“I’m very glad if this is what you wanted,” I said. “But perhaps we should find your daughter first.”
“Etsuko, you must understand, there’s nothing I’m ashamed of. There’s nothing I want to hide from anyone. Please ask me anything you want, I’m not ashamed.”
“I thought perhaps we should find your daughter first. We can talk later.”
“Very well, Etsuko,” she said, with a laugh. “Let’s find Mariko first.”
We searched the playing areas and walked around each of the apartment blocks. Soon we found ourselves back where we had started. Then I spotted two women talking by the main entrance to one of the apartment blocks.
“Perhaps those ladies over there could help us,” I said.
Sachiko did not move. She looked over towards the two women, then said: “I doubt it.”
“But they may have seen her. They may have seen your daughter.”
Sachiko continued to look at the women. Then she gave a short laugh and shrugged. “Very well,” she said. “Let’s give them something to gossip about. It’s no concern of mine.”
We walked over to them and Sachiko politely and calmly made her enquiries. The women exchanged concerned looks, but neither had seen the little girl. Sachiko assured them there was no cause for alarm, and we took our leave.
“I’m sure that made their day,” she said to me. “Now they’ll have something to talk about.”
“I’m sure they had no malicious thoughts whatsoever. They both seemed genuinely concerned.”
“You’re so kind, Etsuko, but there’s really no need to convince me of such things. You see, it’s never been any concern to me what people like that thought, and I care even less now.”
We stopped walking. I threw a glance around me, and up at the apartment windows. “Where else could she be?” I said.
“You see, Etsuko, there’s nothing I’m ashamed of. There’s nothing I want to hide from you. Or from those women, for that matter.”
“Do you think we should search by the river?”
“The river? Oh, I’ve looked along there.”
“What about the other side? Perhaps she’s over on the other side.”
“I doubt it, Etsuko. In fact, if I know my daughter, she’ll be back at the cottage at this very moment. Probably rather pleased with herself to have caused this fuss.”
“Well, let’s go and see.”
When we came back to the edge of the wasteground, the sun was disappearing behind the river, silhouetting the willow trees along the bank.
“There’s no need for you to come with me,” Sachiko said. “I’ll find her in good time.”
“It’s all right. I’ll come with you.”
“Very well then. Come with me.”
We began walking towards the cottage. I was wearing sandals and found it hard going on the uneven earth.
“How long were you out?” I asked. Sachiko was a pace or two ahead of me; she did not reply at first, and I thought possibly she had not heard me. “How long were you out?” I repeated.
“Oh, not long.”
“How long? Half an hour? Longer?”
“About three or four hours, I suppose.”
“I see.”
We continued our way across the muddy ground, doing our best to avoid any puddles. As we approached the cottage, I said: “Perhaps we should look over on the other side, just in case.”
“The woods? My daughter wouldn’t be over there. Let’s go and look in the cottage. There’s no need to look so worried, Etsuko.” She laughed again, but I thought her voice wobbled a little as she did so.
The cottage, having no electricity, was in darkness. I waited in the entryway while Sachiko stepped up to the tatami. She called her daughter’s name and slid back the partitions to the two smaller rooms that adjoined the main one. I stood listening to her moving around in the darkness, then she came back to the entryway.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “We’d better look on the other bank.”