‘You’re the one who made it, after all. And people loved it at the show. I didn’t sell it because I wanted to give it to you, you know.’
Hiromi recalled with a pang of guilt that even though most of the works on display in the Ginza show had sported price tags, this tapestry had been marked ‘not for sale’.
Now Ayane turned more brisk. ‘How many days do you think it will take to gather all your stuff?’
‘Only today and tomorrow, I think.’
‘Okay, well, then, how about you give me a call when you’re finished? The key … You can leave the key in the mail slot in the door. Be careful not to forget anything – I’m going to call a professional and have them come in to clean this place out when you’re done.’
Hiromi blinked, not understanding.
‘Well, it’s not like I can go on living at that hotel forever. It’s not very frugal, or convenient. I thought I would live here until I figure out where I’m going next.’
‘So you’re not going back home?’
Ayane sighed, her shoulders dropping. ‘I thought about it, but I’ve decided not to. So many happy memories … But they’re all bitter now. Twisted up. And anyhow, it’s far too large for me to live in by myself. I’m amazed he lived there alone for so long before meeting me.’
‘Are you going to sell it?’
‘I’ll try, though it might be hard with word getting out about what happened there. I thought I would talk to Mr Ikai first. I’m sure he has some connections who could help.’
Hiromi sat looking down at the mug on the worktable, unable to think of anything more to say. The tea Ayane had made for her was probably cold by now.
‘Well, I’m going to leave now,’ the older woman said, picking up her now empty mug.
‘Just leave that, I’ll wash it before I leave,’ Hiromi offered.
‘Oh? Well, thanks,’ Ayane said, returning the mug to the table. ‘You brought in these mugs, didn’t you – something from a friend’s wedding, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, the pair of them.’
Now they were sitting side by side on the worktable. Hiromi and Ayane had often drunk from them when they held their monthly curriculum meetings.
‘You should definitely remember to take them when you’re packing.’
‘Right,’ Hiromi said in a small voice. She hadn’t been planning to take the mugs at all; but it occurred to her now that leaving them might give Ayane yet another reason to remember what had happened. One more weight settled on her heart.
Ayane hoisted her shoulder bag and made for the door. Hiromi followed.
When she was done putting on her shoes, Ayane looked up at her assistant. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Me leaving first, even though it’s you who’s quitting.’
‘I’ll clean up as fast as I can. Maybe I can even finish today.’
‘No, there’s no need to hurry. I didn’t mean it like that,’ Ayane said, looking directly at her. ‘Be well, Hiromi.’
‘You too.’
Ayane nodded and opened the door, smiling as she stepped out. The door closed behind her.
Hiromi sat on the floor and breathed a deep sigh.
It was painful to quit her job, and she was worried about what she would do for money, but she was certain that this was her only option. It had been a mistake to try to carry on as though everything was the same, even after she had admitted to her relationship with Yoshitaka. No matter how understanding Ayane might seem, Hiromi knew she hadn’t forgiven her, not deep in her heart.
And then there was the baby. Hiromi was terrified Ayane might ask what she was planning to do. She still hadn’t been able to come to a decision.
Maybe Ayane hadn’t asked because she assumed the obvious: that Hiromi would terminate the pregnancy. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed obvious that it never occurred to Ayane that Hiromi might actually want the child …
Hiromi paused, realizing with a shock that when she looked deep down inside herself, all she could think of was keeping it.
But what sort of life would she lead as a single mother? She couldn’t go back to her parents. They were both still in good health, but they weren’t exactly on easy street, and she could only imagine how they would react when they heard that their daughter had become an unwed mother, and destroyed a marriage in the process.
Maybe I have to have an abortion – the more she thought about it, the more she kept coming back to the same obvious choice. Yet it was a conclusion she wanted desperately to avoid. How many times since Yoshitaka’s death had she wished for an easy way out? There is no easy way.
She was shaking her head at her own stupidity when her phone rang. Hiromi stood slowly and walked back to the worktable. She pulled the phone out of her bag. Recognizing the number on the display, she hesitated a long moment before she pushed the accept call button. Ignoring them now won’t make them go away.
‘Yes?’ she said, her voice unintentionally dark.
‘Hello, this is Detective Utsumi from the Metropolitan Police. I was wondering if you had a moment?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’m sorry to bother you again, but there were a few more things I wanted to ask. Maybe we could meet up?’
‘When?’
‘As soon as possible.’
Hiromi breathed a long sigh, not really caring if the detective heard. ‘Then, could you come here? I’m at the patchwork school.’
‘In Daikanyama, right? Is Mrs Mashiba there as well?’
‘No, she’s gone for the day. It’s just me.’
‘Okay, I’ll be right over.’
Hiromi returned her phone to her bag and rubbed her forehead with one hand.
It occurred to her for the first time that quitting the patchwork school didn’t mean it was all over. The police would never let her go until they’d solved the case – if they solved the case. She would never be allowed to have her child in peace.
She gulped the remaining tea from her mug – lukewarm, as expected.
The events of the past three years floated in her mind. When she first came to Anne’s House, her budding patchwork skills had been inconsistent, her lack of experience evident; but she’d made tremendous progress in the first three months – so much so that she’d even surprised herself. When Ayane asked her to become her assistant, she’d said yes on the spot. She had long since grown tired of the pointless, mechanical work the temp agency occasionally sent her.
Hiromi glanced at the computer sitting in the corner of the room. She and Ayane relied heavily on drafting software when making their designs. Sometimes it took a whole night just to decide on colours; but not once had she ever found the work onerous. Once they had decided on a design, they would go and buy the cloth. And then, after spending all that time meticulously deciding on colours, once at the store they would inevitably be swept away by some new fabric in stock, often changing their minds on the spot, ruefully laughing together at their own lack of restraint.
I was satisfied, Hiromi realized. I had a good job, and a good life. And now it had all come to an end. She shook her head. It was all her fault. She had stolen the husband of another woman – and not just any woman, the very person who had helped her become who she was today.
Hiromi clearly remembered the first time she met Yoshitaka Mashiba. It was in this very room. She’d been getting ready for class when Ayane called to tell her a man would be showing up, and she was to ask him to wait there for her. She never mentioned who the man was.
Yoshitaka arrived shortly after. She let him in and offered him tea. He looked around the room with interest, asking about this and that. Her first impression was that he had the curiosity of a little boy, combined with the relaxed poise of a man. It was clear from just a few moments’ conversation that he was very smart, as well.