I found a pen in my handbag and we sat down on a bench nearby. I became curious when I noticed him staring at the blank side of the card, his pen poised but not writing. Once or twice, I saw him glance up towards the statue as if for inspiration. Finally I asked him:
Are you sending it to a friend in Fukuoka??
?Well, just an acquaintance.?
?Father?s looking very guilty,? I said. ?1 wonder who it can be he?s writing to.?
Ogata-San glanced up with a look of astonishment. Then he burst into loud laughter. Guilty? Am I really??
?Yes, very guilty. I wonder what Father gets up to when there?s no one,to keep an eye on him.?
Ogata-San continued to laugh loudly. He was laughing so much! could feel the bench shake. He recovered a little and said: ?Very well, Etsuko. You?ve caught me. You?ve caught me writing to my girl-friend ? he used the English ?word. ?Caught me red-handed.? He began laughing again.
?I always suspected Father led a glamorous life in Fukuoka.?
?Yes, Etsuko? ? he was still laughing a little ? ?a very? glamorous life.? Then he took a deep breath and looked down once more at his postcard. ?You know, I really don?t mow what to write. Perhaps I could just send it with 0thing written. After all, I only wanted to show her what Se memorial looks like. But then again, perhaps that?s rather too informal.?
?Well, I can?t advise you, Father, unless you reveal who this mysterious lady is.?
?The mysterious lady, Etsuko, runs a small restaurant in Fukuoka. It?s quite near my house so I usually go there for my evening meals. I talk to her sometimes, she?s pleasant enough, and I promised I?d send her a postcard of the peace memorial. I?m afraid that?s all there is to it.?
?1 see, Father. But I?m still suspicious.?
?Quite a pleasant old woman, but she gets tiresome after a while. If I?m the only customer, she stands and talks all through the meal. Unfortunately there aren?t many other suitable places to eat nearby. You see, Etsuko, if you?d peach me to cook, as you promised, then I wouldn?t need to suffer the likes of her.?
?But it would be pointless,? I said, laughing. ?Father would never get the hang of it.?
?Nonsense. You?re simply afraid I?ll surpass you. It?s host selfish of you, Etsuko. Now let me see? he looked
his postcard once more ? ?What can I say to the old
?Do you remember Mrs. Fujiwara?? I asked. ?She runs a noodle shop now. Near Father?s old house.?
?Yes, so I hear. A great pity. Someone of her position running a noodle shop.?
?But she enjoys it. It gives her something to work for. She ten asks after you.?
?A great pity,? he said again. ?Her husband was a distinguished man. I had much respect for him. And now she?s running a noodle shop. Extraordinary.? He shook his head gravely. ?I?d call in and pay my respects, but then 1 suppose she?d find that rather awkward. In her present circumstances, I mean.?
?Father, she?s not ashamed to be running a noodle shop.:
She?s proud of it. She says she always wanted to run a business, however humble. I expect she?d be delighted if you called on her.?
?Her shop is in Nakagawa, you say??
?Yes. Quite near the old house.?
Ogata-San seemed to consider this for some time. Then he turned to me and said: ?Right, then, Etsuko. Let?s go and pay her a visit.? He scribbled quickly on the postcard and gave me back the pen.
?You mean, go now, Father?? I was a little taken aback by his sudden decisiveness.
?Yes, why not??
?Very well. I suppose she could give us lunch.?
?Yes, perhaps. But I?ve no wish to humiliate the good lady.?
?She?d be pleased to give us lunch.?
Ogata-San nodded and for a moment did not speak. Then he said with some deliberation: ?As a matter of fact, Etsuko, I?d been thinking of visiting Nakagawa for some time now. I?d like to call in on a certain person there.?
?Oh??
?I wonder if he?d be in at this time of day.?
?Who is it you wish to call on, Father??
?Shigeo. Shigeo Matsuda. I?ve been intending to pay him a call for some time. Perhaps he takes his lunch at home, in which case [may just catch him. That would be preferable to disturbing him at his school.?
For a few minutes, Ogata-San gazed towards the statue, a slightly puzzled look on his face. I remained silent, watching the postcard he was rotating in his hands. Then suddenly he slapped his knees and stood up.
?Right, Etsuko,? he said, ?let?s do that then. Well try Shigeo first, then we could call in on Mrs. Fujiwara.?
I must have been around noon that we boarded the tram to take us to Nakagawa; the car was stiflingly crowded and the streets outside were filled with the lunchtime hordes. But we came away from the city centre, the passengers became more sparse, and by the time the car reached its terminus at Nakagawa, there were only a handful of us left.
Stepping out of the train, Ogata-San paused for a moment and stroked his chin. It was not easy to tell whether he was savouring the feeling of being back in the district, or whether he was simply trying to remember the way to
