Miu returned to her sofa and sank back down in the miniature world the music traced in the afternoon sunlight; how wonderful it would be, she mused, to play Brahms so beautifully. In the past I always had trouble with Brahms’s minor works, especially the ballads, she thought. I never could give myself up to that world of capricious, fleeting nuances and sighs. Now, though, I should be able to play Brahms more beautifully than before. But Miu knew very well:
*
At 6.30 the two of them prepared dinner in the kitchen and ate out on the veranda. A soup of sea bream and fragrant herbs, salad, and bread. They had some white wine and, later, hot coffee. They watched as a fishing boat appeared in the lee of the island and inscribed a short white arc as it sailed into the harbour. No doubt a hot meal was awaiting the fishermen in their homes.
“By the way, when will we be leaving here?” asked Sumire as she washed the dishes in the sink.
“I’d like to stay one more week, but that’s about as long as I can manage,” Miu replied, looking at the calendar on the wall.
“If I had my way, I’d stay here for ever.”
“If I had my way, me too,” Sumire said, beaming. “But what can you do? Wonderful things always come to an end.”
*
Following their usual routine, they each went to their rooms before ten. Miu changed into long-sleeve, white cotton pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But soon she woke up, as if shaken by the beating of her own heart. She
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glanced over at the travel alarm clock next to her; it was past 12.30. The room was pitch black, enveloped by total silence. She sensed someone nearby, hiding with bated breath. Miu pulled the covers up to her neck and pricked up her ears. Her heart thumped loudly, drowning out everything else. It wasn’t just a bad dream spilling over into wakefulness—someone was definitely in the room with her. Careful not to make a sound, she reached out and pulled aside the window curtain an inch or two. Pale, watery moonlight stole into the room. Keeping perfectly still, she swept the room with her eyes.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could distinguish an outline of something gradually forming in a corner of the room. In the shadow of the wardrobe beside the door, where the darkness was deepest. Whatever
A large dog? But the front door was locked, the door to her room shut. A dog wouldn’t be able to get in.
Miu continued to breathe quietly and stared fixedly. Her mouth was dry, and she could catch a faint whiff of the brandy she’d had before going to bed. She reached out and drew the curtain back a little to let more moonlight in. Slowly, like unravelling a tangled thread, she could make out the outline of the black lump on the floor. It looked like a person’s body: hair hanging down in front, two thin legs bent at an acute angle. Someone was sitting on the floor, rolled up, head between legs, scrunched up as if to protect herself from something falling from the sky.
It was Sumire. Wearing her usual blue pyjamas, she crouched like an insect between the door and the wardrobe. Not moving. Not even breathing, as far as Miu could tell.
Miu gave a sigh of relief. But what in the world was Sumire
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doing here? Miu sat up quietly in bed and switched on the lamp. Yellow light lit up the entire room, but Sumire didn’t budge an inch. She didn’t even seem to realize the light was on.
*
“What’s the matter?” Miu called out. First in a small voice, then more loudly.
There was no response. Miu’s voice didn’t appear to reach Sumire. Miu got out of bed and walked over to her. The feel of the carpet was rougher than ever against her bare feet.
“Are you sick?” Miu asked, crouching beside Sumire.
Still no answer.
Miu noticed that Sumire was holding something in her mouth. A pink facecloth that was always hanging in the bathroom. Miu tried to pull it out, but Sumire’s mouth was clamped down hard. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Miu gave up and rested a hand on her shoulder. Sumire’s pyjamas were soaking wet.
“You’d better take your pyjamas off,” Miu said. “You’re sweating so much you’ll catch cold.”
Sumire looked stupefied, not hearing anything, not seeing anything. Miu decided to get Sumire’s pyjamas off; otherwise her body would freeze. It was August, but sometimes nights on the island were chilly. The two of them swam nude every day and were used to seeing each other’s bodies, so Miu thought Sumire wouldn’t mind if she undressed her.
