‘You’re just too clever for me. At everything. I can’t keep up.’
‘No, I think you have your own path to follow. You don’t need to keep up with anyone. You should feel proud of yourself.’ She paused for a moment and pulled the sleeves of her kimono in close to her body. ‘It’s not so humid today,’ sheadded. ‘There’s been a breeze all day long. My feet are feeling a little chilly.’
I removed the scarf from my neck and arranged it over her pure-white feet.
‘Oh, good gracious!’ she exclaimed, and then laughed softly. ‘Why have you covered my feet with your scarf? The two don’t go together.’
‘Didn’t you know, your feet are more beautiful than my neck? So, they should receive more care.’
Mom Ratchawong Kirati gave a deep sigh. It was her way of letting me know she had no wish to argue further with my compliments.
We were the last to leave our boats that evening. Both of us were astonished when we looked all around the lake and saw no other boat out on the water except our own. We were both surprised and amused that we had been enjoying ourselves so much we had not been aware that the others had returned to the bank. When I looked at the watch I carried with me, I realized that we had spent two whole hours in the boat.
‘How could that be possible?’ Mom Ratchawong Kirati asked in amazement.
‘I was enjoying myself being with you,’ was my response.
‘I thought it was only half an hour at the most.’
‘I’d have said only five minutes.’
That evening Chao Khun returned home about half an hour after us. Mom Ratchawong Kirati and I had each, of our own accord, come to the conclusion that there was no need to inform Chao Khun of the details of our evening excursion, and since we were both in agreement, we did not offer each other any explanation.
That night I found it difficult to get to sleep. I wondered how I was ever going to be able to, when my heart was full of MomRatchawong Kirati. Several questions unexpectedly sprang up in my mind. Had I ever in my life encountered a woman more charming and more beautiful than Mom Ratchawong Kirati? Had I ever met a woman who had shown me the kindness and friendship that Mom Ratchawong Kirati had? The answer to all these questions was negative. Firmly and decisively negative. But why was I asking myself such questions? Why was it that I had to compare Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s beauty, her intelligence and all her other good qualities with those of everyone else – or to be more precise, with those of all the women I had ever known? Why was I asking myself these questions? I kept on wondering but could never find a satisfactory answer.
My search lost momentum and instead of a clear reason coming to mind, my thoughts drifted to my feelings for Mom Ratchawong Kirati. As she had climbed out of the boat, she had held out a hand for me to support her. I held her hand lightly, to steady her as she stepped out and on to dry land. As I did so, a strange feeling, one I had never felt before, ran through me. It was as if a strong hand had seized my heart and was shaking it so that I felt thoroughly unsettled. For a moment, this strange feeling possessed me.
‘I can stand all right now. You can let go of my hand.’ When Mom Ratchawong Kirati spoke, I realized I was still clasping her small, soft hand. With a start I released it, but the strange feeling still pounded away in my heart. What power dwelt in that tiny hand that had dragged me so far out of myself? What power lay in that touch, that it still clung to my heart, even though I had come away several hours ago?
When I was leaving, she came out to the main gate to see me off. As I was saying my farewell, she took my scarf, which I had forgotten, and wrapped it around my neck. ‘There’s a breeze tonight,’ she said. ‘Make sure you don’t leave your collar open. I’d be sorry if you were to be ill as a result of keeping me company.’
‘Will you be needing me tomorrow?’
‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she replied in jest.
‘Good. Tomorrow I’ll come round for your answer.’
‘Good. You can come round for my answer every day.’ She smiled happily and then said goodnight. ‘Oyasuminasai, my dear child.’
‘Oyasuminasai,’ I replied. My heart pounded at the sight of her sweet smile and the soft, melodious sound of her voice.
These were the scenes and feelings which filled my mind. The moon was shining down through one of the windows, which I had opened slightly, on to my feet. It made me think once again of those pale, slender ankles and firm, well-fleshed feet.
6
Things continued as usual, or if there was anything unusual, it was not of great significance. A new situation, which unsettled me, arose at Kamakura at the end of summer. Kamakura is a seaside district, about an hour’s journey by train from Tokyo. It is surrounded on three sides by hills covered in lush, green vegetation, with the remaining side opening out on to the sea. It is a district of both scenic beauty and historical interest. In addition, it has both Buddhist and Shinto temples and a beautiful large new Buddha image of great artistic merit, called adaibutsuin Japan, for which Kamakura has become famous. On Saturdays and Sundays, the people of Tokyo flock there in crowds to bathe in the sea and relax, because Kamakura is near enough for just a day’s outing. And at weekends, especially, various amusements are laid on to cater for the visitors’ particular tastes.
Chao Khun had arranged to stay at Kamakura for five days, which suited Mom Ratchawong Kirati and myself. We left Tokyo on a Wednesday. When we reached Kamakura, there were not very many people there because it was the end of the hot season. But the Kaihin Hotel, the best hotel in Kamakura, was still full. I had booked rooms in advance, so we were greeted on our arrival and made very welcome. Chao Khun and his wife stayed in a twin-room suite which included a bathroom and sitting room, while I had a single room. They were both delighted by the splendour and majesty of the Kaihin.
By coincidence, Chao Khun met some friends at the hotel, a Japanese couple and an American couple. As he had some friends to talk to, Chao Khun was only too happy to allow Mom Ratchawong Kirati and me to slip away occasionally on our own. Being together day and night at Kamakura brought us very close to one another. Some days our conversation would begin at the breakfast table, and others, even before that. We were together nearly all the time, sometimes in a group with Chao Khun’s friends, other times just the two of us out together during the day. Sometimes we went out in a boat and other times we sat and watched people enjoying themselves on the beach. In the evenings I usually excused myself and went to bathe in the sea, because at that time Chao Khun liked to take a long walk along the beach, and I thought it only right that he should have time to enjoy himself alone with his young wife. Thus, when he invited me to join them, I declined – even though I could see he clearly meant it – excusing myself on the grounds that I wanted to go for a swim. Chao Khun readily concurred.
One day Mom Ratchawong Kirati came down to bathe with me. I could see she enjoyed it very much, even though, from what she told me, she was not normally very interested in going in the sea. There is one awkward thing about taking a Thai lady bathing with Japanese people: Japanese women are not very particular about covering the upper part of their bodies, and they pay little attention to their rather loose bathing costumes. Japanese girls may have a perfectly good reason for relaxing their caution, but Thai women who visit the beach avert their eyes and complain afterwards. I was afraid that Mom Ratchawong Kirati might have been bothered by this, but my fears were unfounded. She merely expressed surprise and not a word of complaint.
Our last night at Kamakura was on the Sunday. A grand ballwas arranged at the Kaihin Hotel, as was customary on a Sunday night. Non-residents were permitted to attend if they purchased tickets from the hotel, and that evening the ballroom was packed with men and women. Besides the Japanese, there were five or six Thais, including the three of us, and in addition, several Europeans, Americans and Filipinos. Chao Khun Atthikanbodi spent the evening enjoying himself like a young man. He took the floor for many of the dances, sometimes with white ladies, sometimes with Japanese, and uncorked several bottles of champagne. Mom Ratchawong Kirati danced two or three times with friends of Chao Khun and sipped champagne, too. And I danced two or three times with a Japanese girl I knew and likewise sipped champagne.
As it was our last night in Kamakura, Mom Ratchawong Kirati wanted to go for a walk outside. When he learned of her wish, Chao Khun readily consented, for he was thoroughly enjoying himself with all his friends. Mom Ratchawong Kirati invited me to go and see the various amusements. There was mini-golf and skating, and we wandered around the side shows before walking down along the beach and gazing up at the stars above. Eventually we returned and sat down in the garden in the hotel grounds. There were only two or three people taking a walk there. Away from the crowds and alone together, surrounded by nature, we were caught up in our own thoughts and feelings. The mix of champagne and the soft atmosphere of the dancing had put me in much higher spirits than usual. Rumba music echoed from the ballroom. ‘Chao Khun must be really having fun dancing,’ I remarked. ‘Rumba music is so rousing.’
‘He’s not going to dance the rumba, surely. It’s too fast for a man of his age. But a young man like you must like it.’
