Some time after that, she had stopped seeing Daisuke. Not because of his supposed marriage plans, but because she didn’t want him to know she was hostessing. It was a part of her life she kept separate from college, a world of nice restaurants and bars, of Shigeko and her friends, of drinking parties that went on until the men were shiny-faced and had trouble sitting upright. At college she had boyfriends who were students like her. She slept with some of them, but the sex was always awkward, experimental, as if she was mimicking a desire she did not really feel.

Once, she thought she was pregnant. She went to a clinic. She knew there were tests you bought in a box, the sticks you were meant to pee on, but she wanted to be sure, she wanted to see a doctor. At the clinic she was directed to undress in a room and sit in a chair with moulded stirrups for her legs. Their purpose became apparent when the assistant pressed a button and the chair tipped back and lifted her legs apart. A paper curtain was positioned to screen everything past her navel, so she was unable to see the doctor when he approached. He put his gloved hands on her stomach, pressing here and there, then poked two fingers into her vagina and felt about inside her. It was all very impersonal, like being inspected in a spaceship by a faceless chieftain. Afterwards, when she had dressed, the assistant gave her to understand that she wasn’t pregnant. She rode the bus home not knowing what to think or feel, but later that day her period started, as if triggered by relief.

Now, in the park, Ana stood and walked on a little. She was not afraid. She liked the dark. She liked the textures of the trees, the way the warm air seemed to swim. Deeper in, the small lake wobbled with dim reflections and she heard cicadas. She thought of the time she had gone to a summer festival with Daisuke, and on returning lain watching TV with him and drinking a bottle of white wine. She remembered the night clearly: a golf tournament was on, Tiger Woods was playing, and from the trees behind the house came the bleating of cicadas. She knew nothing about golf but was content to lie there watching. Then Daisuke, a little drunk, had said something unexpected.

‘You’re so free,’ he told her, turning from the screen.

‘No I’m not,’ she said.

‘It’s because you’re talented.’

The remark perplexed her. She did not feel talented. She did not know what he meant, but he didn’t elaborate and she didn’t press him on it. And nothing happened between them, though she would have liked it to. Nothing happened that night or ever.

Why hadn’t it? she wondered now. She’d been too passive. Too damn passive. And a coward to boot.