Free A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro Page B

beside her cushion.
    “There’s something you don’t seem to understand, Etsuko,” she said. “You see, I’m not ashamed or embarrassed about anything I’ve done. You can feel free to ask whatever you like.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “For instance, Etsuko, why is it you never ask me anything about 'my friend’, as you insist on calling him? There really isn’t anything to get embarrassed about. Why, Etsuko, you’re beginning to blush already.’
    “I assure you I’m not getting embarrassed.”
    “But you are, Etsuko, I can see you are.” Sachiko gave a laugh and clapped her hands together. “But why cant you understand I’ve nothing to hide, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of? Why are you blushing like this? Just because I mentioned Frank?”
    “But I’m not embarrassed. And I assure you I’ve never assumed anything.”
    “Why do you never ask me about him, Etsuko? There must be all sorts of questions you’d like to ask. So why don’t you ask them? After all, everybody else in the neighbourhood seems interested enough, you must be too, Etsuko. So please feel free, ask me anything you like.”
    “But really. I…”
    “Come on, Etsuko, I insist. Ask me about him. I dà want you to. Ask me about him, Etsuko.”
    “Very well then.”
    “Well? Go on, Etsuko, ask.”
    “Very well. What does he look like, your friend?”
    “What does he look like?” Sachiko laughed again. “Is that all you wish to know? Well, he’s tall like most of these foreigners, and his hair’s going a little thin. He’s not old, you understand. Foreigners go bald more easily, did you know that, Etsuko? Now ask me something else about him. There must be other things you want to know.”
    “Well, quite honestly …”
    “Come on, Etsuko, ask. I want you to ask.”
    “But really, there’s nothing I wish to …”
    “But there must be, why won’t you ask? Ask me about him, Etsuko, ask me.”
    “Well, in fact,” I said, “I did wonder about one thing.”
    Sachiko seemed to suddenly freeze. She had been holding her hands together in front of her, but now she lowered them and placed them back on her lap.
    “I did wonder”, I said, “if he spoke Japanese at all.”
    For a moment, Sachiko said nothing. Then she smiled and her manner seemed to relax. She lifted her teacup again and took several sips. Then when she spoke again, her voice sounded almost dreamy.
    “Foreigners have so much trouble with our language,” she said. She paused and smiled to herself. “Frank’s Japanese is quite terrible, so we converse in English. Do you know English at all, Etsuko? Not at all? You see, my father used to speak good English. He had connections in Europe and he always used to encourage me to study the language. But then of course, when I married, I stopped learning. My husband forbade it. He took away all my English books. But I didn’t forget it. When I met foreigners in Tokyo, it came back to me.”
    We sat in silence for a little while. Then Sachiko gave a tired sigh.
    “I suppose I’d better get back fairly soon,” she said. She reached down and picked up the folded scarf. Then without inspecting it, she dropped it into her handbag.
    “You won’t have a little more tea?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “Just a little more perhaps.”
    I refilled the cups. Sachiko watched me, then said: “If it’s inconvenient about tonight, I mean—it wouldn’t matter at all. Mariko should be capable of being left on her own by now.”
    “It’s no trouble. I’m sure my husband won’t object.”
    “You’re very kind, Etsuko,” Sachiko said, in a flat tone. Then she said: “I should warn you, perhaps. My daughter has been in a somewhat difficult mood these past few days.”
    “That’s all right,” I said, smiling. “I’ll need to get used to children in every kind of mood.”
    Sachiko went on drinking her tea slowly. She seemed in no hurry to be returning. Then she put down her teacup and for some moments sat examining the back