“Oh Miss, just letting me rest here was enough,” said the woman. But
even as she said this she was casually undoing her bundle, spreading it out.
There were only two bundles of wool, one blue and one pale pink. Yuko
bought the pink one.
The baby had been crawling about in the hall all this time, raising its
voice in unintelligible cries.
“She’s having fun. It feels good to be set free in such a big place.”
Yuko asked whether the baby was able to eat biscuits yet, then stood and
went back into the house to get some. She was only gone for a moment, but
when she returned the woman had the baby on her back—she was
preparing to leave. She accepted the small paper-wrapped package of
biscuits politely.
“Thank you, Miss. I go from house to house, you know, but I hardly ever
see a gentle face.” Her own face reddened slightly, and she hid it. “If I
come across anything good, I’ll bring it—I promise. I’ll be back, Miss.”
Yuko watched the woman go, then lay the wool she had just bought on
her knees and stroked it, remembering the feel of the baby’s skin. She
turned her eyes to the hedge of sasanqua next. She saw it there every day,
so she had grown used to it—it was as though she had never seen it in full
bloom before. There were so many flowers it almost seemed strange. But
all the same, Yuko wondered again, what had the woman been thinking?
What had she felt as she walked over to the sasanqua, as she looked at it?
The woman’s clothing hadn’t been in the best condition, but of course the
pink wool that lay on Yuko’s lap was brand new.
It wasn’t until sometime later that Yuko realized she didn’t know what
had become of the purse. It wasn’t anywhere in the hall. It occurred to her
that she might have returned it to the chest of drawers in the sitting room
when she went to get the biscuits, but it wasn’t in any of the drawers when
she looked. Nor had it fallen into the garden.
