swing and walked over to him, her shoulders drooping. “She says you have to go.”
“Oh,” Hiroshi said, disappointed but hardly surprised. “Why?”
“I don’t know either.”
She accompanied him a little ways until a guard turned up and grabbed Hiroshi by the arm to lead him away, asking again and again how Hiroshi had gotten into the compound. He didn’t answer, just let himself be led away, his lips clamped tight. As they passed a gate that had opened to let a delivery truck through, Hiroshi tore free. The guard was taken by surprise, and the boy ran.
That evening his mother scolded him roundly. She had heard what had happened, of course. She, too, wanted to know how he had gotten into the garden, telling him he knew perfectly well he wasn’t allowed there. He didn’t tell her either.
She snorted in disgust. “It’ll be your fault if I lose my job and we have to move away,” she said accusingly.
Hiroshi ducked his head and hunched his shoulders even further. Any more of this and his neck would vanish entirely. “Why would you lose your job?”
“Those are rich folk, and we’re poor. Do you understand that? The best thing is to steer clear of them.”
“Why is it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Why are there rich people and poor people?”
Mother flung up her hands. “The questions you ask! It’s just the way things are, that’s all. It’s always been like that. The ones who can grab the most for themselves are rich, and everybody else is poor.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It does no good to rail against it.”
Of course, Hiroshi didn’t come the next day.
Charlotte was so angry with her mother that she didn’t know what to do. And she mustn’t even say anything about it, since her mother was lying down somewhere with her usual headache. Charlotte eventually couldn’t help but go into her room and fling everything off her shelves—everything—in a blind rage, until the floor was littered with toys.
After that she felt a bit better. A little later she went to work tidying everything up. She put every doll and every plush animal back in its place and gathered up all the games, the dice and cards and little wooden tokens that had fallen from their boxes and scattered across the carpet. She couldn’t bear it when her things were in a mess; it was bad luck not to put everything neatly back where it belonged.
Once she was done she sat at the window, looked out, and decided she would never be a fine lady again, never again be polite at the receptions for her parents. It would serve her mother right. Why did she have to spoil everything? No, in future she just wouldn’t join in. She wouldn’t even let the hairdresser near her. She would shut herself away in her room, her hair in a mess, and she wouldn’t wash, and she wouldn’t move from the spot no matter how much her mother pleaded or threatened. Eventually, the guests would start arriving downstairs and Mother would have to go greet them…
Charlotte sighed. If she were honest with herself, the prospect of sitting all alone in her room while everybody was eating and having fun in the salons downstairs didn’t seem like such a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it would be better to find some other way to get back at her mother. Then she heard a noise and pricked up her ears. It sounded as though someone had knocked at the door, but when she went to open it there was nobody there. And, of course, no Hiroshi.
Hiroshi. That gave her an idea, the kind of idea that stopped her in her tracks and made her hold her breath. She had to think about it very carefully, about whether she really wanted to do it. But by the time she let her breath out again, she had made up her mind.
She hurried into the garden to where Hiroshi had shown her the gap in the spikes. The rope was still hanging there. She hauled herself up, wriggled through, and climbed down the other side between the tree and the wall. That part was easy.
“Oh,” Hiroshi said, disappointed but hardly surprised. “Why?”
“I don’t know either.”
She accompanied him a little ways until a guard turned up and grabbed Hiroshi by the arm to lead him away, asking again and again how Hiroshi had gotten into the compound. He didn’t answer, just let himself be led away, his lips clamped tight. As they passed a gate that had opened to let a delivery truck through, Hiroshi tore free. The guard was taken by surprise, and the boy ran.
That evening his mother scolded him roundly. She had heard what had happened, of course. She, too, wanted to know how he had gotten into the garden, telling him he knew perfectly well he wasn’t allowed there. He didn’t tell her either.
She snorted in disgust. “It’ll be your fault if I lose my job and we have to move away,” she said accusingly.
Hiroshi ducked his head and hunched his shoulders even further. Any more of this and his neck would vanish entirely. “Why would you lose your job?”
“Those are rich folk, and we’re poor. Do you understand that? The best thing is to steer clear of them.”
“Why is it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Why are there rich people and poor people?”
Mother flung up her hands. “The questions you ask! It’s just the way things are, that’s all. It’s always been like that. The ones who can grab the most for themselves are rich, and everybody else is poor.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It does no good to rail against it.”
Of course, Hiroshi didn’t come the next day.
Charlotte was so angry with her mother that she didn’t know what to do. And she mustn’t even say anything about it, since her mother was lying down somewhere with her usual headache. Charlotte eventually couldn’t help but go into her room and fling everything off her shelves—everything—in a blind rage, until the floor was littered with toys.
After that she felt a bit better. A little later she went to work tidying everything up. She put every doll and every plush animal back in its place and gathered up all the games, the dice and cards and little wooden tokens that had fallen from their boxes and scattered across the carpet. She couldn’t bear it when her things were in a mess; it was bad luck not to put everything neatly back where it belonged.
Once she was done she sat at the window, looked out, and decided she would never be a fine lady again, never again be polite at the receptions for her parents. It would serve her mother right. Why did she have to spoil everything? No, in future she just wouldn’t join in. She wouldn’t even let the hairdresser near her. She would shut herself away in her room, her hair in a mess, and she wouldn’t wash, and she wouldn’t move from the spot no matter how much her mother pleaded or threatened. Eventually, the guests would start arriving downstairs and Mother would have to go greet them…
Charlotte sighed. If she were honest with herself, the prospect of sitting all alone in her room while everybody was eating and having fun in the salons downstairs didn’t seem like such a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it would be better to find some other way to get back at her mother. Then she heard a noise and pricked up her ears. It sounded as though someone had knocked at the door, but when she went to open it there was nobody there. And, of course, no Hiroshi.
Hiroshi. That gave her an idea, the kind of idea that stopped her in her tracks and made her hold her breath. She had to think about it very carefully, about whether she really wanted to do it. But by the time she let her breath out again, she had made up her mind.
She hurried into the garden to where Hiroshi had shown her the gap in the spikes. The rope was still hanging there. She hauled herself up, wriggled through, and climbed down the other side between the tree and the wall. That part was easy.
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