A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro Read Free Book Online Page B

That’s why I got you muddled. You’ve completely grown up.”
    “Hello, Mrs Waters,” Niki said, recovering.
    Mrs. Waters lives not far from me. These days I see her only very occasionally, but several years ago she had given piano lessons to both my daughters. She had taught Keiko for a number of years, and then Niki for a year or so when she was still a child. It had not taken me long to see Mrs. Waters was a very limited pianist and her attitude to music in general had often irritated me; for instance, she would refer to works by Chopin and Tchaikovsky alike as “charming melodies”. But she was such an affectionate woman I never had the heart to replace her.
    “And what are you doing with yourself these days, dear?” she asked Niki.
    “Me? Oh, I live in London”
    “Oh yes? And what are you doing there? Studying?”
    ”I’m not doing anything really. I just live there.”
    “Oh, I see. But you’re happy there, are you? That’s the main thing, isn’t it.”
    “Yes, I’m happy enough.”
    “Well, that’s the main thing, isn’t it. And what about Keiko?” Mrs. Waters turned to me. “How is Keiko getting on now?”
    “Keiko? Oh, she went to live in Manchester.”
    “Oh yes? That’s a nice city on the whole. That’s what I’ve heard anyway. And does she like it up there?”
    “I haven’t heard from her recently.”
    “Oh well. No news is good news, I expect. And does Keiko still play the piano?”
    “I expect she does. I haven’t heard from her recently.”
    My lack of enthusiasm seemed finally to penetrate, and she dropped the subject with an awkward laugh. Such persistence on her part has characterized our encounters over the years since Keiko’s leaving home. Neither my evident reluctance to discuss Keiko nor the fact that until that afternoon I had been unable to tell her so much as my daughter’s whereabouts had succeeded in making any lasting impression upon her. In all probability, Mrs. Waters will continue to ask cheerfully after my daughter whenever we happen to meet.
    By the time we got home, the rain was falling steadily.
    “I suppose I embarrassed you, didn’t I?” Niki said to me. We were sitting once again in our armchairs, looking out into the garden.
    “Why do you suppose that?” I said.
    “I should have told her I was thinking of going to university or something like that.”
    “I don’t mind in the least what you say about yourself. I’m not ashamed of you.”
    “No, I suppose not."
    “But I did think you were rather off-hand with her. You never did like that woman much, did you?”
    “Mrs. Waters? Well, I used to hate those lessons she gave me. They were sheer boredom. I used to lust go off in a dream, then now and again there’d be this little voice telling me to put my finger here or here or here. Was that your idea, getting me to have lessons?”
    “It was mainly mine. You see, I had great plans for you once.”
    Niki laughed. “I’m sorry to be such a failure. But it’s your own fault. I haven’t got any musical sense at all. There’s this girl in our house who plays the guitar, and she was trying to show me some chords, but I couldn’t be bothered to even learn those. I think Mrs. Waters put me off music for life.”
    “You may come back to it some time and you’ll appreciate having had lessons.”
    “But I’ve forgotten everything lever learnt."
    “I doubt if you would have forgotten everything. Nothing you learn at that age is totally lost.”
    “A waste of time, anyway,” Niki muttered. She sat looking out of the windows for some time. Then she turned to me and said: “I suppose it must be quite difficult to tell people. About Keiko, I mean."
    “It seemed easiest to say what I did,” I replied. “She rather took me by surprise."
    “Yes, I suppose so." Niki went on looking out of the window with an empty expression. “Keiko didn’t come to Dad’s funeral, did she?” she said, eventually.
    “You know perfectly well she didn’t so