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Authors: Lesley Downer
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patch of ground while Nobu sharpened a stick.
‘Write “man”,’ Taka said. It was best to start at the beginning.
Now he really was offended. ‘Every child knows that,’ he snorted. He drew two strokes on the ground to make a stick body above a pair of forked legs.
‘Now “big”.’
He smoothed out the ground, then drew another stick man with an extra horizontal stroke like arms stretched out.
‘“Mother”.’ He frowned. A shadow crossed his face as he bent and wrote the character. They went on till they came to one he didn’t know.
‘ “Purity”.’ She wrote it for him then he copied it, writing it again and again, stroke by stroke. They did ten new characters then she tested him on the first one. By now it was so dark they could barely see the characters scratched on the ground.
Taka jumped up, suddenly aware that they would both be in dreadful trouble if they were found out. Nobu would be in more trouble than her. He might be beaten or dismissed or worse.
‘We must go.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For helping me.’ She flushed, aware of his eyes on her. As they scrambled through the bushes and ran back to the house she realized she hadn’t felt so happy since Haru had left.
That evening she sorted through her books. There were simplified versions of the classics – the poems of Ariwara no Narihira,
The Tale of Genji, Yamato Library: Teaching One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets
and
Crimson Brocade: A Great Treasury of One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets
. There were books listing the eight celebrated landscapes with the poems associated with each, including Narihira’s famous poem on Mount Fuji. Then there was
A Japanese Fabric of Selected Practices for Women, Old Courtly Practices for Women: A Thin Pocketbook
and
A Treasury of Precepts for Women
. She picked out the ones she’d finished with, that she thought would be the most useful. Then she dug out a spare writing set – an ink block, stick of ink, water dropper and brushes – and a new workbook. She was already planning a whole learning programme for him.
The problem would be to get him away from the other servants and out of her mother and Eijiro’s sight so she could teach him. She knew her mother would never approve and Eijiro would be outraged if he found out. Taking a servant away from his work, spending time alone with a young man – it was utterly scandalous. It would be Nobu who would suffer. Eijiro would beat him or dismiss him, maybe even kill him. He was a mere servant, their property, Eijiro could do as he pleased with him.
She gazed thoughtfully at the screens painted with landscapes and birds and animals that formed the walls of the room, at the oil lamps glimmering inside their shades, at her small writing desk piled with books she’d chosen, at the alcove with a few flowers casually arranged in a vase and a scroll hanging behind on the wall, at the delicate shelves and great wooden chests, at the tobacco box and the brazier with the kettle on its iron hook hanging above it and the teapot and cups on the edge, at her own shadow moving fitfully with every breeze that shivered the lantern flames.
Then she started to smile. Okatsu. That was it. She would take her maid, Okatsu, into her confidence. Okatsu would be their chaperone. She could always say she needed Nobu to help her with such and such a task. She was a resourceful girl, she’d think of something. Best of all, Taka knew her brother had a soft spot for Okatsu. If anyone could twist him round her little finger, she could. She could keep an eye out and distract him if he started asking questions or nosing around.
Taka knew she was breaking all the rules but that only made it all the more thrilling, most of all the fact she was defying Eijiro. She was full of excitement. She had a project at last.
5
SUMMER WAS AT its height, when people ate oily dishes like grilled eel and braised aubergine and kept cool by going to the kabuki theatre to watch
‘Write “man”,’ Taka said. It was best to start at the beginning.
Now he really was offended. ‘Every child knows that,’ he snorted. He drew two strokes on the ground to make a stick body above a pair of forked legs.
‘Now “big”.’
He smoothed out the ground, then drew another stick man with an extra horizontal stroke like arms stretched out.
‘“Mother”.’ He frowned. A shadow crossed his face as he bent and wrote the character. They went on till they came to one he didn’t know.
‘ “Purity”.’ She wrote it for him then he copied it, writing it again and again, stroke by stroke. They did ten new characters then she tested him on the first one. By now it was so dark they could barely see the characters scratched on the ground.
Taka jumped up, suddenly aware that they would both be in dreadful trouble if they were found out. Nobu would be in more trouble than her. He might be beaten or dismissed or worse.
‘We must go.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For helping me.’ She flushed, aware of his eyes on her. As they scrambled through the bushes and ran back to the house she realized she hadn’t felt so happy since Haru had left.
That evening she sorted through her books. There were simplified versions of the classics – the poems of Ariwara no Narihira,
The Tale of Genji, Yamato Library: Teaching One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets
and
Crimson Brocade: A Great Treasury of One Hundred Poems by One Hundred Poets
. There were books listing the eight celebrated landscapes with the poems associated with each, including Narihira’s famous poem on Mount Fuji. Then there was
A Japanese Fabric of Selected Practices for Women, Old Courtly Practices for Women: A Thin Pocketbook
and
A Treasury of Precepts for Women
. She picked out the ones she’d finished with, that she thought would be the most useful. Then she dug out a spare writing set – an ink block, stick of ink, water dropper and brushes – and a new workbook. She was already planning a whole learning programme for him.
The problem would be to get him away from the other servants and out of her mother and Eijiro’s sight so she could teach him. She knew her mother would never approve and Eijiro would be outraged if he found out. Taking a servant away from his work, spending time alone with a young man – it was utterly scandalous. It would be Nobu who would suffer. Eijiro would beat him or dismiss him, maybe even kill him. He was a mere servant, their property, Eijiro could do as he pleased with him.
She gazed thoughtfully at the screens painted with landscapes and birds and animals that formed the walls of the room, at the oil lamps glimmering inside their shades, at her small writing desk piled with books she’d chosen, at the alcove with a few flowers casually arranged in a vase and a scroll hanging behind on the wall, at the delicate shelves and great wooden chests, at the tobacco box and the brazier with the kettle on its iron hook hanging above it and the teapot and cups on the edge, at her own shadow moving fitfully with every breeze that shivered the lantern flames.
Then she started to smile. Okatsu. That was it. She would take her maid, Okatsu, into her confidence. Okatsu would be their chaperone. She could always say she needed Nobu to help her with such and such a task. She was a resourceful girl, she’d think of something. Best of all, Taka knew her brother had a soft spot for Okatsu. If anyone could twist him round her little finger, she could. She could keep an eye out and distract him if he started asking questions or nosing around.
Taka knew she was breaking all the rules but that only made it all the more thrilling, most of all the fact she was defying Eijiro. She was full of excitement. She had a project at last.
5
SUMMER WAS AT its height, when people ate oily dishes like grilled eel and braised aubergine and kept cool by going to the kabuki theatre to watch
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