six hours, otherwise something more powerful would be required. After the time had elapsed with no result except an excessive amount of stomach pain, Sorry tried a recipe of her own. She remembered hearing about it in my father's household when two young concubines became pregnant at the same time. The more devious of the two, wishing her child to take precedence over the other, boiled a copper band in water and as the mixture cooled added two drops of snake venom. She sweetened the mixture with honeyed tea and served it to her opponent. The copper would expel the child, the venom still its heart. Thus the job would be twice done.
'Did it work, Sorry?' I asked. 'Yes, mistress,' she replied, 'they say it is foolproof.'
The herbalist agreed with Sorry that it was indeed a good recipe but warned it should only be one drop of venom. 'Two will surely kill the mother too,' he said. The price for the venom would be high, the copper band, which should be green, he would throw in for good will.
Sorry boiled the brew until only an inch of liquid remained. Then as the water cooled she carefully dropped the venom in, making sure not to spill any of the precious fluid. I gulped the sticky serum down followed by a cup of sweet pomegranate juice to erase its bitterness. For two days I vomited up a hateful glue while the seed remained embedded in my womb.
Days passed and I devised a plan that involved telling Natsuko that I was pregnant, and persuading her to help me with a more scientific abortion. I knew that in a house that thrived on secrets, without her on my side, I had little chance of keeping Kawashima ignorant of my plight.
I would be taking a huge chance confiding in her. She hated me and would delight in having me banished from her home, so I had to find a way to secure her silence as well as her help. I was risking everything, relying on my belief that I understood Natsuko's nature better than she did herself, but I had no choice and besides, the jeopardy of the situation thrilled me.
On the day I went to her I dressed carefully in a black kimono with a dark blue obi sash. In Japan wearing black is said to be the sign of a moral person and I did not wish to annoy Natsuko with my usual attire. I powdered my face pale and attempted to disguise the provocative pink of my lips by staining them with asparagus juice. I wanted to convey the impression of humility and regret. Natsuko looked surprised to see me in so modest an outfit and was intrigued when I said I had come for her help. At first she was full of joy at my news: at last there was a way to be rid of me for good. But when I told her that the child was Kawashima's her face drained of colour and she gave a little moan. There was a long silence as she worked out what this would mean to her own life. The fear that her hated adopted daughter might bear her husband a child, perhaps even a son, was more than she could bear. She asked me how I could possibly be sure that it was Kawashima's child. I told her that not only did Sorry keep a record of my bleeds but that for some months Kawashima, being infatuated with me, had kept me entirely to himself. I said there was no question that the child would be born with the same strawberry birthmark that stained all of Kawashima's offspring.
Natsuko shuddered at the thought of the distinguishing pigment adorning any child not born of her; I could tell by the way her body slumped in the chair that she believed me. She struggled for a long time with the choice of helping me or telling her husband. But in the end I think she could not bear a child of Kawashima's born from my womb to live in the same world as her own children. And so for once, and for a brief time only, Natsuko became my ally.
Between us we made a plan that would take place during Kawashima's next trip to Osaka. The visits to his geisha were as frequent as ever and Natsuko was consumed with jealousy that both at home and abroad her husband chose other women's beds over
'Did it work, Sorry?' I asked. 'Yes, mistress,' she replied, 'they say it is foolproof.'
The herbalist agreed with Sorry that it was indeed a good recipe but warned it should only be one drop of venom. 'Two will surely kill the mother too,' he said. The price for the venom would be high, the copper band, which should be green, he would throw in for good will.
Sorry boiled the brew until only an inch of liquid remained. Then as the water cooled she carefully dropped the venom in, making sure not to spill any of the precious fluid. I gulped the sticky serum down followed by a cup of sweet pomegranate juice to erase its bitterness. For two days I vomited up a hateful glue while the seed remained embedded in my womb.
Days passed and I devised a plan that involved telling Natsuko that I was pregnant, and persuading her to help me with a more scientific abortion. I knew that in a house that thrived on secrets, without her on my side, I had little chance of keeping Kawashima ignorant of my plight.
I would be taking a huge chance confiding in her. She hated me and would delight in having me banished from her home, so I had to find a way to secure her silence as well as her help. I was risking everything, relying on my belief that I understood Natsuko's nature better than she did herself, but I had no choice and besides, the jeopardy of the situation thrilled me.
On the day I went to her I dressed carefully in a black kimono with a dark blue obi sash. In Japan wearing black is said to be the sign of a moral person and I did not wish to annoy Natsuko with my usual attire. I powdered my face pale and attempted to disguise the provocative pink of my lips by staining them with asparagus juice. I wanted to convey the impression of humility and regret. Natsuko looked surprised to see me in so modest an outfit and was intrigued when I said I had come for her help. At first she was full of joy at my news: at last there was a way to be rid of me for good. But when I told her that the child was Kawashima's her face drained of colour and she gave a little moan. There was a long silence as she worked out what this would mean to her own life. The fear that her hated adopted daughter might bear her husband a child, perhaps even a son, was more than she could bear. She asked me how I could possibly be sure that it was Kawashima's child. I told her that not only did Sorry keep a record of my bleeds but that for some months Kawashima, being infatuated with me, had kept me entirely to himself. I said there was no question that the child would be born with the same strawberry birthmark that stained all of Kawashima's offspring.
Natsuko shuddered at the thought of the distinguishing pigment adorning any child not born of her; I could tell by the way her body slumped in the chair that she believed me. She struggled for a long time with the choice of helping me or telling her husband. But in the end I think she could not bear a child of Kawashima's born from my womb to live in the same world as her own children. And so for once, and for a brief time only, Natsuko became my ally.
Between us we made a plan that would take place during Kawashima's next trip to Osaka. The visits to his geisha were as frequent as ever and Natsuko was consumed with jealousy that both at home and abroad her husband chose other women's beds over
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