A Pale View of Hills

“Well, Mother, don’t bother. There’s not much point.”

“I think they do quite good plays sometimes. Some quite modem ones. It’ll say in the paper.”

“There’s not much point, Mother. I’ll have to go back today anyhow. I’d like to stay, but I’ve really got to get back.”

“Of course. Niki. There’s no need to apologize.” I smiled at her across the table. “As a matter of fact, it’s a great comfort to me you have good friends you enjoy being with. You’re always welcome to bring any of them here.”

“Yes, Mother, thank you.”

178

The spare bedroom Niki had been using was small and stark; the sun was streaming into it that morning.

“Will this do for your friend?” tasked, from the doorway. Niki was packing her suitcase on the bed and glanced up briefly at the calendar had found. ‘That’s fine,’ she said.

I stepped further into the room. From the window, I could see the orchard below and the neat rows of thin young trees. The calendar I was holding had originally offered a photograph for each month, but all but the last - had been torn away. For a moment, I regarded the remaining picture.

“Don’t give me anything important,” Niki said. “If there isn’t anything, it doesn’t matter.”

I laughed and laid the picture down on the bed alongside her other things. “It’s just an old calendar, that’s all. I’ve no idea why I’ve kept it.”

Niki pushed some hair back behind her ear, then continued packing.

“I suppose,” I said, eventually, “you plan to go on living in London for the time being.”

She gave a shnzg. “Well, I’m quite happy there.”

“You must send my best wishes to all your friends.”

”All right, I will.’’

“And to David. That was his name, wasn’t it?”

She gave another shrug but said nothing. She had brought with her three separate pairs of boots and now she was struggling to find a way of putting them in her case.

“I suppose, Niki, you don’t have any plans yet to be getting married?”

“What dot want to get married for?”

“I was just asking.’’

“Why should I gt rnad? Wts the oint of that?”

“You plan to just goon — living in London, do you?’

“Well, why, should I get married? That’s so stupid, Mother.” She rolled up the calendar and packed it away. “so many women just get brainwashed. They think all there is to life is getting married and having a load of kids.”

I continued to watch her. Then I said: “But in the end Niki there isn’t very much else.”

“God, Mother, there’s plenty of things I could do. I don’t want to just get stuck away somewhere with a husband and a load of screaming kids. Why are you going on about it suddenly anyway?’ The lid of her suitcase would not shut. She pushed down at it impatiently.

“I was only wondering what your plans were, Niki,” I said, with a laugh. “There’s no need to get so cross. Of course, you must do what you choose.”

She opened the lid again and adjusted some of the contents.

“Now, Niki, there’s no need to get so cross.”

This time, she managed to close the lid. “God knows why I brought so much,” she muttered to herself.

‘What do you say to people, Mother?” Niki asked. “What do you say when they ask where lam?”

My daughter had decided she need not leave until after lunch and we had come out walking through the orchard behind the house. The sun was still out, but the air was chilly. I gave her a puzzled look.

“I just tell them you’re living in London, Niki. Isn’t that the truth?”

“I suppose so. But don’t they ask what I’m doing? Like that old Mrs. Waters the other day?”

‘Yes, sometimes they ask. I tell them you’re living with your friends. Really, Niki, I had no idea you were so concerned about what people thought of you.”

“I’m not.”

We continued to walk slowly. In many places, the ground had become marshy. “I suppose you don’t like it very much, do you, Mother?”

‘Like what, Niki?”

“The way things are with me-You don’t like me living away. With David and all that.”

We had come to the end of the orchard. Niki stepped out on to a small winding lane and crossed to the other side, towards the wooden gates of a field. I followed her. The grass field was large and rose gradually as it spread away from us. AL its crest, we could see two thin sycamore trees against the sky.

“I’m not ashamed of you Niki,” I said. “You must live as — you think best”

My daughter was gazing at the field. “They used to have horses here, didn’t they?” she said, potting her arms upon to the gate. I looked, but there were no horses to be seen.

“You know, it’s strange,” I said. “I remember when I first married, there was a lot of argument because my husband didn’t want to live with his father. You see, in those days that was still quite expected in Japan. There was a lot of argument about that.”

“I bet you were relieved,” Niki said, not taking her eyes from the field.

‘Relieved? About what?”

“About not having to live with his father.”

“On the contrary, Niki. I would have been happy if he’d lived with us. Besides, he was a widower. It’s not a bad thing at all, the old Japanese way.”

‘Obviously, you’d say that now, I bet that’s not what you thought at the time though.”