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Authors: Kazuo Ishiguro
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footballer.'
'Oh yes? I watch a lot of football. On the television, that is.' He leaned forward to Boris again. 'Which number nine is that?'
'Oh, it's just his favourite player,' I said again.
'As far as centre forwards go,' Geoffrey Saunders went on, 'I rather like that Dutchman, plays for Milan. He's quite something.'
I was about to say something further to explain about Number Nine, but at that moment we came to a halt. I saw then that we were standing at the edge of a vast grassy field. Just how large it was, I could not ascertain, but I guessed it extended far beyond what could be seen by the moon. As we stood there, a harsh wind swept across the grass and on into the darkness.
'We appear to be lost,' I said to Geoffrey Saunders. 'Do you know your way around here?'
'Oh yes. I live not so far from here. Unfortunately I can't ask you in just now because I'm very tired and have to go to sleep. But I'll be ready to welcome you tomorrow. Let's say any time after nine o'clock.'
I looked across the field into the blackness.
'To be frank, we're in a little trouble just now,' I said. 'You see, we were on our way to the apartment of that woman we were following earlier. Now we've got ourselves rather lost and I've no idea what her address is. She said something about living near a medieval chapel.'
'The medieval chapel? That's in the city centre.'
'Ah. Can we get to it by going across there?' I pointed over the field.
'Oh no, there's nothing that way. Nothing but emptiness. Only person living out there is that Brodsky fellow.'
'Brodsky,' I said. 'Hmm. I heard him practising in the hotel today. You all seem to know about this Brodsky here in this town.'
Geoffrey Saunders gave me a glance that made me suspect I had said something foolish.
'Well, he's been living here for years and years. Why shouldn't we know about him?'
'Yes, yes, of course.'
'A bit hard to believe the crazy old fellow's got it in him to conduct an orchestra. But I'm prepared to wait and see. Things can't very well get much worse. And if you start saying Brodsky's the thing, well, who am I to argue?'
I could not think what I might say to this. In any case, Geoffrey Saunders suddenly turned away from the field, saying:
'No, no, the city's over that way. I can direct you if you like.'
'We'd be very grateful,' I said as a chilly gust blew against us.
'Well now.' Geoffrey Saunders fell into thought for a moment. Then he said: 'To be honest, you'd be best off getting a bus. To walk from here would take a good half-hour or so. Perhaps the woman persuaded you her apartment was close by. Well, they always do that. It's one of their tricks. You should never believe them. But it's no problem if you take a bus. I'll show you where you can pick one up.'
'We'd be very grateful,' I said again. 'Boris is getting cold. I hope this bus stop isn't far.'
'Oh, very near. Just follow me, old man.'
Geoffrey Saunders turned and led us back towards the abandoned farmyard. I sensed, however, that we were not retracing our footsteps and, sure enough, before long we found ourselves walking down a narrow street in what seemed a less than affluent suburb. Small terraced houses stood in rows on either side. Here and there I could see lights in windows, but for the most part the occupants appeared to have turned in for the night.
'It's all right,' I said quietly to Boris, who I sensed was close to exhaustion. 'We'll be at the apartment now very soon. Your mother will have everything ready for us by the time we turn up.'
We walked on for a while past more rows of houses. Then Boris began to mutter again:
'Number Nine… It's Number Nine…'
'Look, which number nine is this?' Geoffrey Saunders said, turning to him. 'You mean that Dutchman, don't you?'
'Number Nine's the best player so far in history,' Boris said.
'Yes, but which number nine do you mean?' Geoffrey Saunders's voice had now gained an edge of impatience. What's his name? Which is his team?'
'Boris just
'Oh yes? I watch a lot of football. On the television, that is.' He leaned forward to Boris again. 'Which number nine is that?'
'Oh, it's just his favourite player,' I said again.
'As far as centre forwards go,' Geoffrey Saunders went on, 'I rather like that Dutchman, plays for Milan. He's quite something.'
I was about to say something further to explain about Number Nine, but at that moment we came to a halt. I saw then that we were standing at the edge of a vast grassy field. Just how large it was, I could not ascertain, but I guessed it extended far beyond what could be seen by the moon. As we stood there, a harsh wind swept across the grass and on into the darkness.
'We appear to be lost,' I said to Geoffrey Saunders. 'Do you know your way around here?'
'Oh yes. I live not so far from here. Unfortunately I can't ask you in just now because I'm very tired and have to go to sleep. But I'll be ready to welcome you tomorrow. Let's say any time after nine o'clock.'
I looked across the field into the blackness.
'To be frank, we're in a little trouble just now,' I said. 'You see, we were on our way to the apartment of that woman we were following earlier. Now we've got ourselves rather lost and I've no idea what her address is. She said something about living near a medieval chapel.'
'The medieval chapel? That's in the city centre.'
'Ah. Can we get to it by going across there?' I pointed over the field.
'Oh no, there's nothing that way. Nothing but emptiness. Only person living out there is that Brodsky fellow.'
'Brodsky,' I said. 'Hmm. I heard him practising in the hotel today. You all seem to know about this Brodsky here in this town.'
Geoffrey Saunders gave me a glance that made me suspect I had said something foolish.
'Well, he's been living here for years and years. Why shouldn't we know about him?'
'Yes, yes, of course.'
'A bit hard to believe the crazy old fellow's got it in him to conduct an orchestra. But I'm prepared to wait and see. Things can't very well get much worse. And if you start saying Brodsky's the thing, well, who am I to argue?'
I could not think what I might say to this. In any case, Geoffrey Saunders suddenly turned away from the field, saying:
'No, no, the city's over that way. I can direct you if you like.'
'We'd be very grateful,' I said as a chilly gust blew against us.
'Well now.' Geoffrey Saunders fell into thought for a moment. Then he said: 'To be honest, you'd be best off getting a bus. To walk from here would take a good half-hour or so. Perhaps the woman persuaded you her apartment was close by. Well, they always do that. It's one of their tricks. You should never believe them. But it's no problem if you take a bus. I'll show you where you can pick one up.'
'We'd be very grateful,' I said again. 'Boris is getting cold. I hope this bus stop isn't far.'
'Oh, very near. Just follow me, old man.'
Geoffrey Saunders turned and led us back towards the abandoned farmyard. I sensed, however, that we were not retracing our footsteps and, sure enough, before long we found ourselves walking down a narrow street in what seemed a less than affluent suburb. Small terraced houses stood in rows on either side. Here and there I could see lights in windows, but for the most part the occupants appeared to have turned in for the night.
'It's all right,' I said quietly to Boris, who I sensed was close to exhaustion. 'We'll be at the apartment now very soon. Your mother will have everything ready for us by the time we turn up.'
We walked on for a while past more rows of houses. Then Boris began to mutter again:
'Number Nine… It's Number Nine…'
'Look, which number nine is this?' Geoffrey Saunders said, turning to him. 'You mean that Dutchman, don't you?'
'Number Nine's the best player so far in history,' Boris said.
'Yes, but which number nine do you mean?' Geoffrey Saunders's voice had now gained an edge of impatience. What's his name? Which is his team?'
'Boris just
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