She was, after all, a servant, with no prospects in life. Her one consolation was that by doing this she could ensure that her mother and brother lived a little more comfortably. Even if she left, she would never again become the unspoiled girl she had once been, and with a wife already in the same household the addition of one more woman like herself made little difference. From the time when she came to feel that this might well happen, Suga began to feel almost a kind of identification with Yumi in her hairstyle, her boyish face, her swarthy complexion and her tall, clean-limbed look.

Shirakawa must have done something to Yumi, somewhere, for Suga found her one day standing by the heavy doors of the white-walled storehouse, her narrow shoulders shaking with sobs.

‘What’s the matter? Yumi, tell me what’s the matter,’ she said, resting a hand on Yumi’s shoulder and peering round into her face. Yumi promptly hid her face in the sleeve of her kimono and wept. At each heave of her shoulders Suga felt a vague sensation in her own body that told her quite clearly, with no need to ask, the cause of Yumi’s misery.

‘There, Yumi … I know, I know. It was the same with me, after all …’

The tears came flooding into Suga’s eyes as she spoke and her voice was thick with emotion. Yumi peered up at her as though hearing her voice for the first time, saw Suga’s large, tear-filled eyes, and buried her head against Suga’s breast in a violent fit of weeping as though what she saw had provoked a fresh wave of unhappiness. Weeping with her, Suga stroked Yumi’s narrow shoulders; the body was strong and flexible like young bamboo, with a thin layer of firm flesh over a slight bone structure. The amber, somewhat coarse-textured skin too had a touch of masculinity that was agreeable to Suga.

‘My mother and father will be cross … that this should happen to me … I’m so ashamed.’ She wept afresh between each phrase. Yet there was a certain resilience in Yumi’s lamentations that had been lacking in Suga’s own sorrow. Suga found it attractive. Suddenly, her heart was filled not with jealousy but with a wish to be close to Yumi, to put her arms around her so that they could share their common woe.

‘Yumi, let’s try to help each other. I’m not worth much, but won’t you let me be your sister?’

‘Will you really? Suga … I, I …’ Heedless of her elaborate hairstyle, she buried her head in Suga’s lap.