Fish of the Seto Inland Sea. Ruri Pilgrim

and stared at Haruko. Altogether, the service was something they did not look forward to.

      Later, the children were called by Tei-ichi.

      â€˜Hideto.’ Tei-ichi addressed Hideto in a severe voice. ‘It was very rude of you to run away from the service when Rev. Kondo came all the way from the town to teach us lessons.’

      â€˜Yes, otohsan.’

      â€˜You should be old enough to know that. It was particularly naughty of you to have told the younger ones to run away with you.’

      â€˜I am sorry.’

      Haruko’s heart was beating fast, but Hideto did not make any excuses.

      â€˜Go to the storehouse.’

      The storehouse was at the end of the corridor and was built to withstand fire. It had mud walls which were one metre thick and no window. Two thick oak doors separated it from the main house. At the outbreak of fire, the doors would be sealed with mud. It was dark and cold inside.

      To be locked up in the storehouse was the worst punishment.

      Towards night, clanging a bunch of large keys, Kei came in, a lamp in hand.

      â€˜Hideto?’ She held up the lamp and called, peering inside. ‘Come with me and we will apologise to otohsan.’

      Kei and her son bowed to Tei-ichi. Kei said, ‘Now he knows he has done wrong. He says that he will not do it again. Please forgive him.’ She turned to Hideto. ‘Apologise to otohsan.’

      After that Kei sat Hideto down and gave him his evening meal which she had kept for him.

      In the summer, Haruko, Sachiko and Shuichi followed Hideto around. When he appeared, village bullies left them alone. In order to establish this position, Hideto had been involved in a few serious fights and had again been locked up in the storehouse by Tei-ichi.

      Unlike the Miwas, the Shirais had evening meals together. Now that the older boys were away at university and school, Tei-ichi, Hideto and Shuichi sat at the top of the table. One evening, Tei-ichi looked down towards the end of the table and said, ‘I saw monkeys today up in a tree in the village.’

      â€˜Monkeys?’ Kei asked. ‘I have never seen them so far away from the mountains.’

      â€˜These monkeys I saw today were strange monkeys. They were wearing kimonos.’

      â€˜I see,’ Kei said. ‘You had better tell them to go back to the mountains next time you see them.’

      â€˜I will try. But I wonder if they will understand ... After all, they are monkeys.’

      Haruko and Sachiko were red in the face and hunched their shoulders, making themselves as small as possible. Ayako looked at them amused. As Shobei wished, she was treated by Tei-ichi and Kei as though she was one of the children. She was more relaxed and happier.

      â€˜When I was going on my rounds,’ Tei-ichi would say at another meal, ‘I saw two naked girls swimming in the river with the village children. They looked exactly like ours, but I don’t suppose we have such ill-behaved children in our family, do we? What do you think, Ayako?’

      Everybody, even the servants, laughed, except Haruko and Sachiko.

      Tomboys ought to be restrained, Tei-ichi believed, but he wanted Shuichi to be vigorous, even boisterous. He was the important charge trusted to him by the Miwas. As a doctor, he did not think that tuberculosis was hereditary, as it was generally believed, but suspected that there might be a constitutional tendency to the disease. Shuichi was tall for his age, but his neck was thin and he looked delicate. In Tei-ichi’s opinion, too many women fussed around him.

      One evening, in early autumn, the sun was still high, but it was cooler and the smell of burning dry leaves was drifting in the air. The household was beginning to get busy. The bathtub had to be filled, washing had to be taken in and put away, and the evening meal had to be cooked. By the well, Shige was scaling a large fish. Shobei, who often went fishing early in the morning, had hung his catch at the Shirais’ gate on his way home before the household woke up.

      â€˜Mata san,’ Kei was calling.

      â€˜I sent him to town for shopping,’ Shige’s voice was heard.

      â€˜Haruko nesan,’ Sachiko said, ‘I want a notebook.’ Nesan meant older sister.

      â€˜I will give you one. It is nearly new.’

      Sachiko indicated her dissatisfaction by being silent.

      â€˜Let’s go to town,’ Sachiko insisted.

      It took about an hour to walk to town and there was a tacit understanding that the children were not allowed to go on their own, especially in the evening.

      â€˜Haruko nesan, let’s go to town,’ Sachiko repeated. Since they had moved to the Shirais’, Kei left social obligations more and more to Ayako and she was often out or away from home for a few days. Takeko had always been Kei’s favourite and hung around her grandmother. Sachiko was increasingly dependent on Haruko.

      As the two girls started out, Shuichi appeared from somewhere and followed them.

      â€˜Shu-chan, we will be back soon,’ Haruko tried. They wanted to return home before dark. They did not want to be saddled with a four-year-old boy.

      â€˜I want to come.’ He looked at Haruko.

      â€˜Where is Hiden sama?’ she said, but even before she asked, she knew Hideto had been away the whole afternoon with his friends. He must be climbing up a waterfall, or hanging on vines and jumping across a stream. He would no doubt be a general assaulting ‘Port Arthur’.

      â€˜All right, you can come.’ Haruko stopped walking. She tidied Shuichi’s kimono and tied his sash tight. She held his hand and started off on the path between the rice paddies.

      They saw Matabei coming back from shopping.

      He asked, ‘Oh, Haruko ojosama and Sachiko ojosama, Shuichi dansama, as well? And where are you going?’

      Sachiko said, ‘Just over there.’ She was quicker at tact than Haruko.

      â€˜Over there?’ Matabei bent his head on one side and looked at the girls. ‘Don’t be too long, ojosama,’ he said.

      â€˜Oh, no, we’ll be back very soon,’ Sachiko said.

      They started to run. Matabei stood with a pole over his shoulder, shopping dangling from both ends. He looked after them for a minute, then went home, taking steps in rhythm with the movement of the pliable pole.

      When they arrived in the little town with one narrow street, the sun had gone farther down and one side of the street was almost in darkness. At the back of a small shop which sold an assortment of stationery, sweets and haberdashery, there was a large persimmon tree laden with red fruit. The persimmons were shining in the evening sun.

      The shopkeeper’s wife came out, wiping her hands on her apron, and opened her eyes wide in surprise.

      â€˜Oh, Shuichi dansama, and Haruko ojosama and Sachiko ojosama, that was a long way to come.’

      They did not know that they had to pay for the notebook but the woman did not worry about it either. She knew she would be paid later. When they said, ‘Thank you,’ and went out, she called after them, ‘Go home quickly. The autumn sun sinks very fast.’

      â€˜I want to go home,’ Shuichi said. He must have been tired. It was getting dark rapidly and Haruko and Sachiko, too, were homesick. The worry of being scolded began to seem real as well.

      â€˜I