Free A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro Page A

didn’t mean everything he’s promised? You see, Etsuko, what he wants most is to take me to America. That’s what he wants. Nothing’s changed really, this is just a slight delay.” She gave a quick laugh. “Sometimes, you see, he’s like a little child.”
    “But what do you think your friend means by going off like this? I don’t understand.”
    “There’s nothing to understand, Etsuko, it hardly matters. What he really wants is to take me to America and lead a steady respectable life there. That’s what he really wants. Otherwise why would he have come all that way and found me at my uncle’s house? You see, Etsuko, this isn’t anything to be so worried about.”
    “No, I’m sure it isn’t.”
    Sachiko seemed about to speak again, but then appeared to stop herself. She stared down at the tea things on the tray. “Well then, Etsuko,” she said, with a smile, “let’s pour the tea.”
    She watched in silence as I poured. Once when I glanced quickly towards her, she smiled as if to encourage me. I finished pouring the tea and for a moment or two we sat there quietly.
    “Incidentally, Etsuko,” Sachiko said, “I take it you’ve spoken to Mrs Fujiwara and explained my position to her.’
    “Yes. I saw her the day before yesterday.”
    “I suppose she’d been wondering what had become of me.”
    “I explained to her that you’d been called away to America. She was perfectly understanding about it”
    “You see, Etsuko,” said Sachiko, “I find myself in a difficult situation now.”
    “Yes, I can appreciate that.”
    “As regards finances, as well as everything else.”
    “Yes, I see,” I said, with a small bow. “If you wish, I could certainly talk to Mrs Fujiwara. I’m sure under the circumstances she’d be happy to."
    “No, no, Etsuko”—Sachiko gave a laugh—“I’ve no desire to return to her little noodle shop. I fully expect to be leaving for America in the near future. It’s merely a case of things being delayed a little, that’s all. But in the meantime, you see, I’ll need a little money. And I was just remembering, Etsuko, how you once offered to assist me in that respect.”
    She was looking at me with a kindly smile. I looked back at her for a few moments. Then I bowed and said: “I have some savings of my own. Not a great deal, but I’d be glad to do what I can.”
    Sachiko bowed gracefully, then lifted her teacup. “I won’t embarrass you”, she said, “by naming any particular sum. That, of course, is entirely up to you. I’ll gratefully accept whatever you feel is appropriate. Of course, the loan will be returned in due course, you can rest assured of that, Etsuko.”
    “Naturally,” I said, quietly. “I had no doubts on that.”
    Sachiko continued to regard me with her kindly smile. I excused myself and left the room.
    In the bedroom, the sun was streaming in, revealing all the dust in the air. I knelt beside a set of small drawers at the foot of our cupboard. From the lowest drawer I removed various items—photograph albums, greeting cards, a folder of water-colours my mother had painted—laying them carefully on the floor beside me. At the bottom of the drawer was the black lacquer gift-box. Lifting the lid, I found the several letters I had preserved—unknown to my husband—together with two or three small photographs. From beneath these, I took out the envelope containing my money. I carefully put back everything as it had been and closed the drawer. Before leaving the room, I opened the wardrobe, chose a silk scarf of a suitably discreet pattern, and wrapped it around the envelope.
    When I returned to the living room, Sachiko was refilling her teacup. She did not look up at me, and when I laid the folded scarf on the floor beside her, she carried on pouring the tea without glancing at it. She gave me a nod as I sat down, then began to sip from her cup. Only once, as she was lowering her teacup, did she cast a quick sideways glance at the bundle