I made my way back across the forecourt with the binoculars. Although at that time I did not understand English, I guessed at once that the foreign woman was American. She was tall, with red wavy hair and glasses which pointed up at the corners. She was addressing Sachiko in a loud voice, and I noted with surprise the ease with which Sachiko replied in English. The other woman was Japanese; she had noticeably plump features, and appeared to be around forty or so. Beside her was a tubby little boy of about eight or nine. I bowed to them as I arrived, wished them a pleasant day, then handed Mariko the binoculars.

?It?s just a toy,? I said. ?But you might be able to see a few things.?

Mariko opened the wrapping and examined the binoculars with a serious expression. She looked through them, first around the forecourt, then up at the hill-slope.

?Say thank you, Mariko,? Sachiko said.

Mariko continued to look through the binoculars. Then she brought them away from her face and put the plastic strap over her head.

?Thank you, Etsuko-San,? she said, a little grudgingly.

The American woman pointed to the binoculars, said something in English and laughed. The binoculars had also attracted the attention of the tubby boy, who previously had been watching the hill-slope and the descending cablecar. He took a few steps towards Mariko, his eyes on the binoculars.

?That was very kind of you, Etsuko,? said Sachiko.

?Not at all. It?s just a toy.?

The cablecar arrived and we went through the turnstiles, on to the hoflow wooden boards. The two women and the tubby boy, it seemed, were to be the only other passengers. The man with the cap came out of his hut and ushered us one by one into the car. The interior looked stark and metallic. There were large windows on all sides and benches ran along the two larger walls.

The car remained at the platform for several more minutes and the tubby boy began to walk around impatiently. Beside me, Mariko was looking out of the window, her knees up on the bench. From our side of the car, we could see the forecourt and the gathering of young spectators at the turnstiles. Mariko seemed to be testing the effectiveness of her binoculars, holding them to her eyes one moment, taking them away the next. Then the tubby boy came and knelt on the bench beside her. For a little while, the two children ignored each other. Finally, the boy said:

?I want to have a look now.? He held out his hand for the binoculars. Mariko looked at him coldly.

?Akira, don?t ask like that,? said his mother. ?Ask the little lady nicely.?

The boy took his hand away and looked at Mariko. The little girl stared back. The boy turned and went to another window.

The children at the turnstiles waved as the car began to pull away. I instinctively reached for the metal bar running along the window, and the American woman made a nervous noise and laughed. The forecourt was growing smaller and then the hillside began to move beneath us; the cablecar swayed gently as we climbed higher; for a moment, the treetops seemed to brush against the windows, then suddenly a large dip opened beneath us and we were hanging in the sky. Sachiko laughed softly and pointed to something out of the window. Mariko continued to look through her binoculars.

The cablecar finished its climb and we filed out cautiously as if uncertain we had arrived on solid ground. The higher station had no concrete forecourt, and we stepped off the wooden boards into a small grass clearing. Other than the uniformed man who ushered us out, there were no other people in sight. At the back of the clearing, almost amidst the pine trees, stood several wooden picnic tables. The near edge of the clearing where we had disembarked was marked by a metal fence, which separated us from a cliff-edge. When we had regained our bearings a little, we wandered over to the fence and looked out over the falling mountainside. After a moment, the two women and the boy joined us.

?Quite breathtaking, isn?t it?? the Japanese woman said to me. ?I?m just showing my friend all the interesting sights. She?s never been in Japan before.?

?1 see. I hope she?s enjoying it here.?

?1 hope so. Unfortunately, I don?t understand English so well. Your friend seems to speak it much better than I do.?

?Yes, she speaks it very well.?

We both glanced towards Sachiko. She and the American woman were again exchanging remarks in English.

?How nice to be so well educated,? the woman said to me. ?Well, I hope you all have a nice day.?

We exchanged bows, then the woman made gestures to her American guest, suggesting they move off.

?Please may I look,? the tubby boy said, in an angry voice. Again, he was holding out his hand. Mariko stared at him, as she had done in the cablecar.

?I want to see it,? the boy said, more fiercely.

?Akira, remember to ask the little lady nicely.?

?Please! I want to see it.?

Mariko continued to look at him for a second, then took the plastic strap from around her neck and handed the boy the binoculars. The boy put them to his face and for some moments gazed over the fence.

?These aren?t any good,? he said finally, turning to his mother. ?They aren?t nearly as good as mine. Mother, look, you can?t even see those trees over there properly. Take a look.?

He held the binoculars towards his mother. Mariko reached for them but the boy snatched them away and again offered them to the woman.

?Take a look, Mother. You can?t even see those trees the near ones.?

Вы читаете A Pale View of Hills
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