“It isn’t silly at all,” I said. “Not in the least.” For the briefest moment I was seized by an urge to speak endlessly — what of, I do not know. A sudden wave of unbounded optimism swelled in me, and for a second I thought I would reach out to touch him. But the moment passed, and I fell silent once more. Finally, I said, “If only it could be so.”
“If only what could be so?”
“If only life could be like that — if only we could begin again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If only mornings like these weren’t just an illusion.”
He took my hand and pressed it firmly between his palms. “Snow, it can happen. Life is a palimpsest. You must believe it.”
We continued our stroll and talked about the Valley, about the trees, the rivers, and people. I spoke about my childhood — I saw all these things from afar, but my parents never allowed me to venture close to them. I knew the names of all the trees, I knew what they looked like, yet I never knew the smell of their sap or how their leaves felt to the touch. Lying awake at night, I came to recognise the calls of certain animals, and many times I saw wild boar and rusa bucks — but only dead ones tribal hunters brought to the house to sell for meat. I was familiar, of course, with the people of the Valley — they spoke to me respectfully when they visited the house, and I replied with equal propriety. I never knew, of course, what they ate when they were at home, or what they said to their children at night, or how they loved their wives in the morning. I spent my whole life, it seems, observing the world from my window. And then Johnny appeared on that rain-sodden day.
“You must have been very in love with him,” Mamoru said.
I did not answer.
“Has he changed much since you married?” he continued. “It is often said that nothing changes a man more than marriage.”
I laughed. “On the contrary. He hasn’t changed at all.”
“And is that. . a bad thing?”
Again I did not answer.
“Your husband is an interesting man,” he said as we walked down a slope towards a cream-painted shelter.
“Johnny? In what way?”
“In many ways. He is a very successful man, considering his background.”
“I suppose so. But being a merchant is hardly an unusual occupation for a Chinese.” I laughed.
“He is an exceptionally influential one.”
“A shop and a bit of money doesn’t amount to influence.”
“Do you believe that money is all that he has?”
“What do you mean?”
Mamoru shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. He seems somewhat mysterious. Not to you, of course, you’re his wife!”
“He is inscrutable, that is for sure.”
“No one seems to know about his childhood, for example.”
I sat down on the wooden seat in the shelter, watching him lean languidly against the posts, his head nearly touching the eaves of the low roof. “What about your childhood, Mamoru?”
“Unremarkable.”
“Liar.”
We laughed.
“Are you really a nobleman as everyone says you are?” I asked.
He looked sad. “In a manner of speaking. My family are — Well, let me just say that I understood everything you spoke of. You talked about growing up in a gilded cage, and it hurt me — because I know how it feels.”
“Tell me more.”
He seemed to be looking at something in the distance, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s something in that thicket of trees over there,” he said, fixing his gaze on a dense patch of scrub and undergrowth about a hundred yards away.
“I don’t see anything.”
“I think we should go back now,” he said. His voice had fallen and he seemed very determined. I knew it was no use arguing.
“What did you see in the trees?” I asked again.
“I don’t know. Perhaps nothing.” Suddenly he did not seem open to conversation.
“Just as well we’re heading back now,” I said. “The sun’s getting very hot. My skin is not used to being out in this heat.”
“Yes, you should go back inside.”
We walked in silence; the sun felt uncomfortable on my face and hands.
Honey was waiting for us when we got to the house. He had brought the car round and seemed very impatient to get going. “You’d better hurry up and have some breakfast,” he said, looking at his watch.
“I do not think there is any need to hurry,” Mamoru said.
Honey seemed uncertain. “We agreed to leave by ten. It’s nearly quarter to nine.”
“We are on schedule.”
Honey frowned. “If you insist.” In silent protest, however, he remained by the car, examining various parts of it (spuriously, it seemed to me) whilst we breakfasted and packed. I think he is still there now. I cannot understand why he is so keen to leave; I am perfectly content to stay at this little desk in this marvellous airy room. I shall not move until I hear Mamoru taking his things downstairs. Johnny and Peter are exploring the grounds, I presume. Just now I saw Johnny expertly scaling the boughs of a tree, and earlier I noticed that Peter’s shoes were thickly muddied. “I’ve been tramping o’er hill and dale,” he cried.
A DIFFICULT FEW DAYS.
