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  Still, what could she do? Who was going to save them from all this? They had to go on living. And even if she felt like a slave, even if it seemed as though she would always be doing the dirty work, who else was there? She had to keep trying. If she didn't, it would be all over. She needed to think of a plan, a way out.. . but before she did, she had to get back to work.

  Miki had come into the bathroom and was washing with a new brand of cleansing foam: Yoshie could tell at once from the fragrance. She had bought it, along with her contacts and her hair mousse, with the money from her part-time job. In the morning light, the girl's hair had a dyed-brown sheen.

  When she'd finished washing the diaper and disinfecting her hands, she looked up at Miki, who was brushing her hair and studying herself intently in the mirror.

  'Did you dye your hair?' she asked.

  'A little,' the girl answered, continuing to brush.

  'It makes you look like a juvenile delinquent.'

  'No one says "juvenile delinquent" any more,' said Miki, doubling up with laughter. 'No one's said that in years except you. And besides, everybody's doing their hair.'

  'I suppose so,' her mother murmured. Miki had become loud and her taste had turned garish recently, and it was worrying. 'What are you going to do about a summer job?' she asked, to change the subject.

  'I've found something,' said Miki as she sprayed something on her long hair.

  'Where?'

  'A fast-food place across from the station.'

  'How much do they pay?'

  'High-school students get ¥800 an hour.' Her mother was silent for a moment, absorbing the shock: that was ¥70 more per hour than they made on the day shift at the factory. Was it just being young that made them worth so much? 'Something wrong?' Miki asked, studying her mother's face.

  'No, nothing. Did everything go okay with Grandma last night?' she went on, to change the subject again.

  'She had nightmares. Calling out Grandpa's name and making lots of noise.' Yoshie remembered that the old woman had seemed particularly fretful before she'd left for work, whining like a baby and refusing to let her go. She'd complained about being left in the house, about being so helpless. Ever since a stroke had paralysed her right side, she'd been much meeker and quieter, but just recently the selfish, infantile tendency in her had come to the fore again.

  'That's strange,' said Yoshie. 'You don't suppose she's getting senile?'

  'Ugh. I hope not. I really don't want to have to look after her.'

  'Don't say that. I need you to take care of her and make sure she's comfortable.'

  'No way,' Miki barked. 'I get too tired.' Pulling a drink carton from the refrigerator, she plunged a straw into it and began sucking. It took Yoshie a moment to recognise it as a breakfast substitute she'd bought at the convenience store, one all her friends seemed to be drinking. She could have had a perfectly good breakfast with the rice and miso soup I went to the trouble of making the night before, thought Yoshie. Her heart sank at the thought of the needless extravagance. And Miki seemed to be repeating the sin at lunch. She used to eat the lunch Yoshie put together from whatever she had in the house, but now she was going to fast-food restaurants with her friends. Where was she getting the money? Unconsciously, she'd begun to stare at her daughter inquisitively.

  'What are you looking at?' Miki asked, turning her head and scowling.

  'Nothing,' said Yoshie.

  'Did you remember the money for the school trip I told you is due tomorrow?' Miki said. Yoshie, who had completely forgotten about the trip, looked taken aback.

  'How much was it?' she asked.

  'Eighty-three thousand.'

  Yoshie gulped. 'Was it that much?'

  'I told you!' Miki shouted, suddenly furious. Yoshie fell silent, wondering where she would come up with that kind of money, while Miki quickly got dressed and left for school. No doubt about it, she thought, feeling all the more depressed, I need more money.

  'Yoshie,' her mother-in-law called, sounding impatient. Yoshie gathered up the diaper she'd just washed and went into the back room. After struggling to take off her soiled nightgown and put on a clean one, she fed her breakfast and changed her diaper again. It was nearly 9.00 a.m. by the time she'd finished the mountain of laundry and finally crawled into the futon stretched out next to her mother-in-law's. They could both sleep until around noon, but then the old woman would wake up and make a fuss until Yoshie fixed her lunch.

  Yoshie slept only a few hours each day. In the afternoon, she was barely able to doze between nursing chores, and then in the evening she would sleep a bit more before leaving for the factory. At best, she managed only about six fragmented hours of sleep, barely enough to get by on. This was her daily routine, but she worried that she would soon reach the breaking point.

  -

  Though payday wasn't until the end of the month, she decided to call the payroll office at the factory to see if she could borrow against her wages.

  'Sorry, we don't make exceptions.' The accounting manager's tone was frosty.

  'I know,' said Yoshie, 'but I've been here quite a while.'

  'Yes, but rules are rules,' he said, turning her down cold. 'And by the way, Mrs Azuma, you've got to start taking at least one day off a week or we'll have trouble with the labour bureau.'

  'I understand,' said Yoshie. She'd recently been working seven days a week for the overtime pay.

  'You get welfare payments, don't you? If you go over the allowable income, they'll cut you off.' Unexpectedly, Yoshie found herself apologising and bowing as she hung up. Now she had only her last resort: Masako. How many times had she already asked her for help in an emergency?

  'Hello,' her husky voice said. It sounded as though she'd just woken up.

  'It's me,' said Yoshie. 'Did I wake you?'

  'Ah, the Skipper. No, I was just getting up,' said Masako.

  'I've got a favour to ask, but you've got to tell me if you can't manage it.'

  'I'll tell you,' said Masako. 'What is it?' Yoshie hesitated, wondering whether her friend would really be frank with her. But this was Masako. More than once at the factory she'd been amazed at her openness, her lack of pretence.

  'I'm wondering if you could lend me some money,' she said at last.

  'How much?'

  'Eighty-three thousand. It's for Miki's class trip, and I'm completely strapped.'

  'No problem,' said Masako. Though she was sure that Masako herself couldn't easily spare the money, she was delighted that she'd agreed so easily.

  'Thanks,' she said. 'You don't know how much I appreciate this.'

  'I'll stop at the bank and bring it this evening,' said Masako. Yoshie went limp with relief. It was humiliating to have to borrow money, but she was glad to know she had a friend like her.

  -

  She had just dozed off with her head resting on the low table when the doorbell rang. Masako stood in the entrance, her face dark against the sunset.

  'Hi,' Masako said. 'I got to thinking about it and realised that you wouldn't want to leave the cash sitting around the factory, so I brought it over.' She handed her the bank envelope. No doubt the thought had occurred to her as she was making the withdrawal and she'd come all this way to deliver the money. It was so like Masako, so sensible. But beyond that, Yoshie realised, it was also quite kind, for she had understood that Yoshie wouldn't want to be seen borrowing money at the factory.

  'Thank you. I'll pay you back at the end of the month.'

  'Take your time.'

  'No, I know you've got loans yourself.'

  'Don't worry about it,' Masako said, smiling slightly. Yoshie

  stared at her in something approaching wonder, having so rarely seen her smile at work.

  'But... ' she stammered.

  'Don't worry about it, Skipper,' Masako repeated, closing the subject. Her expression suddenly turned serious, and a small vertical line, a scar perhaps, appeared next to her right eyebrow. Yoshie knew that the mark was a sign that M