‘I wonder if Suga isn’t envious because Yumi’s got married? I wouldn’t mind marrying her off if there was a suitable match …’ The remark made by Yukitomo two or three days previously as he was showing Takao the carp in the pond still lodged heavy in Tomo’s breast. Nowadays Suga would often, even when others were present, have a vacant look in her eyes as though gazing into space. Frequently Tomo noticed that her eyes were swollen at the rims as though she had been crying in the privacy of her room. The cause, Tomo surmised, was twofold: loneliness at having lost Yumi, and the pain of watching Miya happily basking in Yukitomo’s love. Could it be that Yukitomo was growing weary of the resistance in Suga that found no expression in words but seemed to seep from her body?

‘But Suga’s different from Yumi,’ she had said. ‘Her periods aren’t normal, and even if she got married she probably couldn’t have children. For myself too, I’d prefer it that she should always be here to look after you …’ Tomo had got so far and broken off in a sweat, fearful lest the criticism of Yukitomo implied in her words should strike home. But Yukitomo had merely nodded equivocally and without replying had clapped his hands above the water.

‘Look’ he said, tapping Takao on the shoulder. ‘Here come the carp! Here they come!’

Tomo felt an overwhelming pity for Suga, the woman whom Yukitomo no longer needed. Yumi and Miya were different: even though she were abandoned by Yukitomo, Yumi had a new husband and could bear children, while Miya was the kind of woman who could probably make any man go on loving her indefinitely without wearying of her charms.

Suga had become Yukitomo’s mistress before she had even started menstruating, and this almost certainly was what had damaged her ability to bear children. Now that she was over thirty and beginning to lose her good looks she could hardly become a geisha, nor if she married was it likely, with her sickly constitution, that things would go as smoothly as with Yumi. At the thought of the ultimate fate awaiting Suga – to grow gradually older while leading the concubine’s life that she loathed, sharing with a woman whose presence made her uneasy the care of one man, Yukitomo – gloom would settle over her irresistibly. There was no use in expressing the sympathy she felt, for Suga would only interpret her words cynically as concern for herself.

Tomo was aware of the accusation in Suga’s baleful gaze, which seemed to say, ‘It is you who brought me to this fate.’ It afforded her a wry amusement, too, to note that Suga’s resentment toward Yukitomo was not so strong as toward herself.