Kazuo Ishiguro (36 page)

‘A cultured man like you, Colonel,’ I remarked, ‘must regret all this. I mean all this carnage caused by your country’s invasion of China.’

I feared he would become angry, but he smiled calmly and said: ‘It is regrettable, I agree. But if Japan is to become a great nation, like yours, Mr Banks, it is necessary. Just as it once was for England.’

We were silent for a few moments. Then he asked: ‘I am sure, yesterday, in Chapei, you saw unpleasant things?’

‘Yes. I certainly did.’

Suddenly he let out a strange laugh, which made me start.

‘Mr Banks,’ he said, ‘do you realise, do you have any idea, of the unpleasantness yet to come?’

‘If you continue to invade China, I am sure…’

‘Excuse me, sir’ - he was now quite animated - ‘I am not talking merely of China. The entire globe, Mr Banks, the entire globe will before long be engaged in war. What you just saw in Chapei, it is but a small speck of dust compared to what the world must soon witness!’ He said this in a triumphant tone, but then he shook his head sadly. ‘It will be terrible.’ he said quietly. ‘Terrible. You have no idea, sir.’

I do not remember clearly those first hours following my return.

But I would suppose my arrival in the grounds of the British consulate, conveyed by a Japanese military vehicle, and looking more or less like a tramp, did little for the morale of an anxious community. I remember vaguely the officials rushing out to meet us, and then, as I was taken into the building, the look on the face of the consul-general as he came hurrying down the stairs. I do not know what his first words to me were, but I do recall my saying to him, perhaps even before any greeting had passed my lips: ‘Mr George, I must ask you to let me see your man Mac Donald without delay.’

‘Mac Donald? John Mac Donald? But why do you wish to talk to him, old fellow? Look, what you need is to rest up. We’ll have a doctor look you over…’

‘I accept I’m looking a little the worse for wear. Don’t worry, I’ll go and freshen up a bit. But please, have Mac Donald ready for me. It’s very important.’

I was shown to a guest room in the consulate building, where I managed a shave and a hot bath despite a whole series of people knocking on my door. One of these was a dour Scottish surgeon who examined me for a good half-hour, convinced I was concealing some serious injury from him. Others came to ask after one or another aspect of my welfare, and I sent at least three of them back with an impatient query concerning Mac Donald.

I received only vague replies about his not yet having been located; and then, as the evening drew on, exhaustion - or perhaps something the surgeon had given me - sent me off into a deep sleep.

I did not awake until well into the following morning. I had breakfast brought to my room, and changed into some fresh clothes delivered from the Cathay while I had been asleep. I then felt a lot better, and decided I would go and seek out Mac Donald then and there.

I thought I could remember the way to Mac Donald’s office from our last meeting, but the consulate building was rather deceptive and I was obliged to ask directions from a number of people I encountered. I was still a little lost, making my way down a flight of stairs, when I spotted the figure of Sir Cecil Medhurst standing on the landing below me.

The morning sun was streaming through the tall landing windows, lighting up a large area of grey stone around him. There was no one else on the landing, and Sir Cecil was stooping forward slightly, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down on to the consulate grounds below. I was tempted to retreat back up the stairs, but it was a quiet part of the building, and there was a chance my footsteps would make him look up at any moment. I thus continued my descent, and as I came up to him, he turned as though he had been aware all along of my approach.

‘Hello, old fellow,’ he said. ‘Heard you were back. A bit of a panic when you went missing, I’ll tell you. Feeling better?’

‘Yes. I’m fine, thanks. Just this foot’s a little awkward. Won’t quite fit into my shoe.’

The sun in his face made him look old and tired. He turned back to the window again and peered out; moving alongside him, I too looked out. Below us, three Sikh policemen were hurrying back and forth across the lawn, stacking sandbags into piles.

‘You heard she’s gone?’ Sir Cecil asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Of course, when you went missing at the same time, I jumped to conclusions. So did a few other people, I fancy.

That’s why I came along this morning. To offer you my apologies.

But they told me you were sleeping. So I was just… well, just kicking my heels here.’

‘There’s hardly any need for apologies, Sir Cecil.’

‘Oh yes there is. I fancy I went around saying a few things the other evening. You know. Jumping to conclusions. Of course, everyone knows now I was making a fool of myself. But all the same, thought I’d better come along and explain myself.’

Down on the lawn, a Chinese coolie arrived with a wheelbarrow containing more sandbags. The Sikh policemen began unloading them.

‘Did she leave a letter?’ I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

‘No. But I did receive a cable this morning. She’s in Macao, you know. Says she’s safe and well. Says she’s by herself, and that she’ll be writing soon.’ Then he turned to me and grasped my elbow. ‘Banks, I know you’ll miss her too. In some ways, you know, I’d have preferred it if she’d gone off with you. I know she… she thought jolly well of you.’

‘It must have come as a big shock.’ I remarked, for want of something to say.

Sir Cecil turned away and for a time went on gazing down at the policemen. Then he said: ‘Wasn’t really, to tell you the truth. No shock at all.’ Then he went on: ‘I always told her she should go, told her she should go and find love, you know, true love. She deserves it, don’t you think? That’s where she’s gone now. Off to find true love. Perhaps she’ll find it too. Out there, on the South China Sea, who knows? Perhaps she’ll meet a traveller, in a port, in a hotel, who knows? She’s become a romantic, you see? I had to let her go.’ There were now tears welling in his eyes.

‘What will you do now, sir?’ I asked gently.

‘What will I do? Who knows? Ought to go home, I expect. I suppose that’s what I’ll do. Go home. Just as soon as I’ve paid off a few debts here, that is.’

I had been conscious of footsteps coming down the stairs behind us, but now they slowed to a halt and we both of us turned. I was rather dismayed to see Grayson, the official from the Municipal Council.

‘Good morning, Mr Banks. Good morning, Sir Cecil. Mr Banks, we’re all so pleased to see you back and safe.’

“Thank you, Mr Grayson.’ And when he continued simply to stand there on the bottom stair smiling foolishly, I added: ‘I trust all the arrangements for the Jessfield Park ceremony are progressing to your satisfaction.’

‘Oh yes, yes.’ He gave a vague laugh. ‘But just now, Mr Banks, I came to find you because I heard you were wishing to speak with Mr Mac Donald.’

‘Yes, that’s right. In fact, I was just on my way to find him.’

‘Ah. Well, he won’t be in his usual office. If you’d follow me, sir, I’ll take you to him now.’

I gave Sir Cecil a gentle squeeze on the shoulder - he had turned back to the window to hide his tears - then followed Grayson with an eager step.

He led me through a deserted section of the building, and then we came to a corridor containing a row of offices. I could hear someone talking on the telephone, and a man who emerged from one of the doors nodded to Grayson. Grayson opened another door and waved for me to go in ahead of him.

I stepped into a small but well-appointed office dominated by a large desk. I stopped at the threshold because there was no one in the room, but Grayson nudged me further in and closed the door. He then walked around the desk, sat down, and gestured towards the empty seat.

‘Mr Grayson,’ I said, ‘I have no time for these foolish pranks.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Grayson said, ‘I know you wished to see Mac Donald.

But you see, Mac Donald’s domain is protocol. He discharges his duties very well, but his territory doesn’t really extend much further.’

I sighed with impatience, but before I could speak, Grayson went on: ‘You see, old chap, when you said you wanted Mac Donald, I assumed you wanted me. I’m the fellow you need to speak to.’

I then noticed there was something different about Grayson.

His ingratiating air had vanished, and he was watching me steadily over the desk. When he saw understanding dawn in my face, he gestured once more at the chair.

‘Please make yourself comfortable, old chap. And I do apologise for having rather dogged you since your arrival here. But you see, I had to make sure you didn’t do anything to cause a big stink with the other Powers. Now, let me see, I take it you want a meeting with the Yellow Snake.’

‘Yes, Mr Grayson. I wonder if you can arrange such a thing.’

‘As it happens, we finally got word while you were away. All parties seem happy now to grant your request.’ Then leaning forward, he said to me: ‘So, Mr Banks. Do you feel you’re closing in?’

‘Yes, Mr Grayson. At last, I believe I am.’

So it was that just after eleven o’clock last night, I found myself travelling by car through the elegant residential areas of the French Concession in the company of two officers from the Chinese secret police. We went down avenues lined with trees, past large houses, some entirely hidden behind high walls and hedges. Then we came through gates heavily guarded by men in gowns and hats, and halted in a gravelled courtyard. A dark house, four or five storeys high, stood before us.

Inside, the lights were low, and more guards lurked everywhere in the shadows. As I followed my escorts up the central staircase, I gained the impression the house had until recently belonged to a wealthy European, but had now, for some reason, fallen into the hands of the Chinese authorities; I could see crude notices and schedules pinned up on the walls right alongside exquisite works of Western and Chinese art.

To judge from its decor, the room I was shown into up on the second floor had until recently contained a billiard table. There was now a yawning space in the middle of the room, around which I paced while I waited. After twenty minutes or so, I heard the sound of more cars arriving down in the courtyard, but when I tried to see out of the windows, I found these gave on to the gardens to the side of the house, and I could see nothing at all of the front.

It was perhaps another half-hour before I was finally fetched.

I was escorted up another flight of stairs, then along a corridor past more guards. Then my escorts stopped, and one of them pointed to a door several yards before us. I went the last lap alone, and entered what appeared to be a large study. There was thick carpet beneath my feet, and the walls were almost entirely lined with books. At the far end, where heavy drapes had been drawn across the bay windows, was a desk with a chair on either side of it. A reading lamp on the desk created a warm pool of light, but otherwise much of the room was in shadow. As I stood surveying my surroundings, a figure rose from behind the desk and, stepping carefully around it, gestured back to the chair he had vacated.

‘Why don’t you take this seat, Puffin?’ Uncle Philip said to me. ‘You remember, don’t you? You always loved to sit in my chair behind my desk.’

Had I not been expecting to see him, it is perfectly possible I would have failed to recognise Uncle Philip. He had put on weight over the years, so that though he was not stout, his neck had thickened and his cheeks were sagging. His hair was wispy and white. But his eyes were calm and humorous in much the way I remembered.

I did not smile as I came towards him; nor did I go behind the desk to the chair he had offered. I’ll sit here.’ I said, stopping beside the other chair.

Uncle Philip shrugged. ‘Well, it’s not my desk anyway. In fact, I’ve never set foot in this house before. Something to do with you, this place?’

‘I’ve never been here before either. May I suggest we sit down?’

When we did so, we could see each other clearly for the first time in the light from the desk lamp, and we spent a moment carefully studying one another’s features.

‘You haven’t changed so much, you know, Puffin,’ he said.

‘Easy to see the boy in you, even now.’

‘I’d appreciate you not calling me by that name.’

‘Sorry. Rather cheeky, I admit. So here we are, you managed to track me down. I kept refusing to meet you before. But in the end, I suppose I began to want to see you again. Owe you an explanation or two, I expect. But I wasn’t sure, you see, how you regarded me. Friend or foe, that sort of thing. But then these days I’m not sure about most people on that score. Do you know, they told me to keep this with me just in case?’ He produced a little silver pistol and held it up to the light. ‘Can you believe it? They thought you might wish to attack me.’

‘But I see you brought it along just the same.’

‘Oh, but I carry it everywhere. So many people wanting to do me mischief these days. I didn’t really bring it on your account.

One of those men standing out there. Perhaps he’s been bribed to burst in here and stab me. Who can tell? That’s the way it’s been for me, I’m afraid. Ever since this Yellow Snake lark started.’

‘Yes. It would seem you’re much given to treachery.’

“That’s a bit harsh, if you’re implying what I think you’re implying. As far as the communists are concerned, very well, yes, I’ve turned traitor. Even there, it was never my intention, you know. Chiang’s men got hold of me one day and threatened to torture me. I admit, I didn’t fancy that much, didn’t fancy it one bit. But in the end, they did a far cleverer thing.

They tricked me into betraying one of my number. And then, you see, that was that. Because as you’ve seen, no one punishes turncoats more savagely than my old comrades. There was no other way for me to stay alive. I had to depend on the government to protect me from my comrades.’

‘According to my investigations,’ I said, ‘a lot of people have lost their lives through you. And not just those you betrayed.