Her mother carried on voicing her thoughts. ‘Do you remember when you were little and we went to eat in a restaurant at Christmas? A French restaurant. You had just started elementary school, or maybe it was a little before.’

‘Sort of.’

She definitely remembered going with her parents to a fancy restaurant that was quite unlike the places they usually went to. And she remembered the lively end-of-year atmosphere in the shops. She remembered how they brought out so many varied dishes, each on a separate plate, different from the usual rice-omelette lunch she was used to at ordinary family restaurants, and she recalled thinking, even as a child, how this was the real thing when it came to food.

‘I remember how they brought out one little dish after another for you and Dad, and I thought it was odd. You finished one and they brought out another. I was wondering if it would ever end.’

‘That’s because we rarely eat a set meal like that,’ her mother said. ‘I remember too. You asked, Can’t we go home now? How much more are you going to eat?’ Her mother laughed. ‘Let’s go somewhere this year, too. That restaurant is closed now, but your dad and I can look for another one.’

Kokoro thought maybe she knew why her mother seemed to be avoiding the subject of Mr Ida or Miori. She hadn’t felt like discussing anything either. Not so soon.

But there was one thing she did want to say.

She turned to her mother, whose gaze was far away.

‘Mum?’

‘Hm?’

‘Thank you.’

Her mother looked intently at Kokoro but her face was expressionless. Kokoro had needed to get that out.

‘Thank you for saying that to Mr Ida. For telling him what I said.’

Truthfully, she was worried whether her story had been properly conveyed. Her teacher must really have a negative impression of Kokoro now. He’d suggested she meet with Miori Sanada, but Kokoro had refused, and now he must certainly view her as a problem child, with none of the honesty or integrity he expected to see in his pupils.

‘You believed me, Mum.’

‘Of course I did.’ Her mother’s voice sounded a bit husky, and she looked down at her hands. ‘Of course I did,’ she repeated, her voice now clearly trembling.

She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, and when she looked up, Kokoro saw they were red.

‘You must have been so frightened,’ her mother said. ‘When I heard the story, I was frightened too.’

Kokoro blinked in surprise.

‘And I just really wish you’d told me sooner. When I was talking to your teacher, I felt I could understand how you must be feeling.’

Her mother lifted the corners of her mouth into a tired, listless smile.