here were you, Mom?' a familiar but unexpected voice had called out as Yoshie arrived back from Masako's house, utterly worn out. Yoshie tugged off her shoes and ran inside - her daughter Kazue had come home. She had never told her friends at the factory, but she actually had two children. The reason she'd never mentioned the older one was that Yoshie herself could barely stand the girl, even though she was her own daughter.

Kazue would be twenty-one now. She had quit school and run off with an older man when she was eighteen, and Yoshie hadn't heard a word from her since. This was the first time she'd been home in over three years. Yoshie sighed loudly, feeling both relieved to see her again and wary of the trouble she knew she could cause; also wondering what other surprises the day had in store for her after what she'd already been through. She studied Kazue's face, trying to hide her shock and apprehension.

The girl's dyed-brown hair fell straight down almost to her waist, and tugging at the ends of it was a small boy who was staring up at Yoshie. This must be the child she'd heard rumours about a couple of years ago, her first grandchild. He looked exactly like his useless father, and none too cute at that. He was thin and pale, with a line of snot running down from his nose. The boy's dad was a loser who had hung around the neighbourhood, never able to hold down a regular job; and now his child was watching her with a knowing sort of look, as if he'd guessed what she was thinking.

'Where have you been all this time?' Yoshie asked. 'You never even called, and now you just show up like this and expect me to be thrilled?' She had perhaps been a bit blunter than she'd meant to be, but the time for caring or even getting angry had long since passed. Her only real worry now was that her other daughter, Miki, would end up just like this one. If Kazue came back for good, she was bound to be a bad influence on Miki. And then there was the little matter of what had happened earlier this morning, and the details still to be taken care of.

'What do you mean, "Where have you been"? Your daughter comes home after three years and that's all you can say? No "Welcome home"? No "How nice to see you"? This is your grandson!' Kazue's eyebrows - pencil thin, the way high school girls were wearing them - arched dramatically. She was still trying to keep up with all the teenage fashions, but her hard life had visibly aged her. Like her child, she wore cheap, well-worn clothes that looked slightly soiled.

'My grandson? I don't even know his name,' Yoshie said, her voice thick with resentment.

'It's Issey. You know, like the designer.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Fine welcome this is, after three whole years!' As her tone grew more aggressive, Yoshie was reminded of old times. 'What's wrong with you, anyway? You look like hell.'

'I'm working the night shift at a boxed-lunch factory.'

'And you're just getting home now?'

'No, I stopped off to see a friend.' She suddenly remembered the bags full of Kenji that she'd brought home with her. The smaller bags had been collected in one sturdy shopping bag, which she now quickly hid away in the kitchen.

'So when do you sleep? You'll ruin your health if you keep that up.' Kazue's concern was blatantly superficial. When she'd been living here, she had hated having to look after the old woman in their cramped little house - just as Miki did now - and that, in part, had led to her leaving home. But there was no point in dragging up all their old battles. Why did everything unpleasant and inconvenient and difficult seem to be happening all at once? Yoshie had always made it a rule to be patient and diligent whenever possible, but this rude and slovenly girl of hers was more than she could take.

'And just who do you think would look after your grandmother? If I worked days, she'd be all alone. And when have you ever lifted a finger to help?'

'Drop it,' said Kazue.

'I do it because I've got no other choice.... How is she, anyway?' Yoshie added, peering into the back room. She had run off to Masako's after feeding the old woman breakfast and changing her diaper, and now suddenly she was worried. Her mother-in-law was lying quietly in the dim room, but she was awake and had apparently been listening to their conversation. 'I'm sorry I'm so late,' Yoshie told her.

She heard the old woman grunt, then say, 'Where have you been? I thought you'd left me to die.'

Yoshie was suddenly livid. How can they all be so selfish? Do they think I'm a robot? 'That would have been fine with me!' she yelled at her. 'And when you died, I'd cut you up and throw you out with the garbage! Starting with that ugly old head of yours!'

Without missing a beat, the old woman began sobbing loudly, though there were few tears in evidence. For good effect she threw in a mumbled line or two from a sutra. 'Now we know what you're really like,' she blubbered. 'You're wicked! You seem so quiet and nice, but underneath there's pure evil. I'm living in the devil's house!'

And now we know what you're really like too, thought Yoshie, still smouldering as she stood staring at the faded flower pattern on the light summer blanket. But as her anger gradually subsided, she felt a sharp pang of regret. Why had she said that? Perhaps this whole experience had changed her. It was all Masako's fault for getting her involved in this mess. No, it was Yayoi's for killing her husband in the first place. But it was her fault, too, for having been willing to go along with it just for the money. That was it: it was all because she was broke.

Kazue, who had been slumped against the low table, listening in silence, now spoke up. 'Come on. Yelling at each other isn't going to solve anything.'

'You're right about that,' said Yoshie, the tension draining from her body. She walked back into the living room, though she could still hear her mother-in-law sobbing.

'I changed her diaper earlier,' Kazue said, apparently intent on playing the part of peacemaker.

'Oh? Thanks,' said Yoshie, sitting down at the table. The floor was strewn with the boy's tiny toy cars. Still feeling angry, she swept a pile of miniature police cruisers and ambulances under the table; but the child wouldn't know, since he'd gone into Miki's room to play.

'Have you applied to the city for someone to help?' Kazue asked. 'They have people who come to your house.'

'I've asked, but it's only three hours a week and I could barely do the shopping in that amount of time.' Her head was beginning to hurt from lack of sleep, but she braced herself and asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. 'So, just why is it you're showing up now?'

'Well,' said Kazue, slowly licking her lips. Yoshie remembered that she had a habit of doing this when she was about to tell a lie. 'The boy's daddy has gone to Osaka to work, and I'm thinking I should get a job myself. So I'm wondering if you can lend me some money.'

'I haven't got any. If he's in Osaka, why don't you go, too, and all live there?'

'But I don't know where he is,' said Kazue. Yoshie sat staring at her, mouth hanging open. So he's left them, and she's come crawling back here with the kid. But how were they ever going to manage with two more in this tiny place?

'But... can't you put him in day-care and get a job?' she said, beginning to panic.

'That's exactly what I'm planning to do, which is why I need a loan right now.' She held out her hand. 'Please. You must have something put away. And I was talking with the lady next door while I was waiting for you; she said they're going to tear this place down and build a new building. Maybe when the new apartment's ready, we could come live with you?'

'And how do you think I'm going to get by while they're building?'

'Mom, please!' she screamed. 'You've got the welfare and your salary, and Miki could get a job. And they'd have to put us on some kind of support. Please! I don't even have enough to buy Issey a hamburger!' She was begging now, tears welling up in her eyes. The boy came toddling in and stared curiously at his sobbing mother. Yoshie reached into her pocket and pulled out the money she'd found in Kenji's wallet: ¥28,000.

'Here, take this,' she said. 'It'll have to do for now. I'm broke myself -1 had to borrow just to pay for Miki's school trip.'

'You've saved my life,' said Kazue, tucking the money carefully away. Then, as if she'd got what she came for, she abruptly stood up. 'Right, I'm off to look for a job.'

'Where are you living?' Yoshie asked.

'In Minami Senju, but it's a million miles from anywhere and the train fare is killing me.' She stepped out into the entrance hall and slipped into the cheap, cork-soled sandals she'd left by the door.

'What about him?' Yoshie said, nodding at the boy.

'Mom, I hate to ask, but would you mind taking care of him for a while?'

'Now hold on '

'Please! I'll be back to get him soon,' she said, as though referring to a suitcase. She opened the door, but the boy suddenly realised he was being left behind and called after her.

'Mama, where are you going?'

'Issey, you be a good boy for your grandmother. I'll be back soon.'

Yoshie said nothing as she stared blankly at her daughter's retreating figure. She'd suspected something of the kind all along, so she wasn't even particularly surprised. To judge from the way she skipped out the door, Kazue felt liberated, and there were no signs of guilt about leaving the child. It was as if she'd just dumped something inconvenient in this dirty house and then cut loose. Yoshie felt a twinge of jealousy.

'Mama, Mama.' One of the toy cars fell from his hand as the boy stood calling after her.

'Come here and let Granny hold you,' said Yoshie, reaching out for the child.

'No!' he screamed. Pushing her away with unexpected force, he threw himself down on the floor in a storm of tears. The faint weeping continued in the bedroom as well.

Will they ever stop, Yoshie wondered, clearing away the toys strewn across the tatami and lying down. She closed her eyes and listened to them cry, but the boy soon stopped and gathered up his cars to play, mumbling all the while to himself. He was obviously used to being left with other people, yet Yoshie found it hard to feel much pity for him. It was herself she felt sorry for. She suddenly realised there were tears running down her cheeks, and the thing that made her saddest was the way she had parted with the money she'd taken from poor, dead Kenji. She felt that she had crossed a line and there was no going back — perhaps the same way Yayoi had felt when she'd killed the man.

***

Over Miki's protests, Yoshie managed to leave the boy at home and get to the factory on time. Masako was waiting for her in the lounge, and they stood for a moment looking at one another in silence. The strong emotions of the morning had drained from Masako's face, leaving just a grim mask. Maybe this was the real Masako, Yoshie thought, feeling a bit daunted. She wondered how she must look to her.

'How are you feeling, Skipper?' Masako asked. Her expression was rigid, but there was warmth in her voice.

'Awful,' she said, though she knew she couldn't explain that her long-lost daughter had turned up, dropped off her child, and left with Kenji's money.

'Sleep much?' Masako asked. Her questions were always short and to the point. Though she hadn't slept at all, Yoshie nodded. 'And the garbage?'

'No problem. I spread it around on my way here.'

'Thanks. I knew you'd manage, Skipper. But I'm a little worried about Kuniko.'

'I know what you mean.' She glanced nervously around the lounge. The shift would be starting soon, but there was no sign of her.

'She's not here,' said Masako.

'The shock must have gotten to her.'

'I hate to say it, but I suppose I'll have to go check on her.'

'I suppose so.'

'But I think she's a bit scared of me,' said Masako.

'Still, we can't afford to have her talking,' Yoshie said, staring idly at the 'no change' light flashing on the vending machine. If they were found out, it was all over. She could feel herself going cold with fear. A warning light was flashing somewhere, telling her that everything could soon come crashing down around her.

'But she's in this, too, so I don't think she'll go running to the police. Still, she's weak, and that can be dangerous.' Masako fell silent, a deep crease appearing between her eyes.

'Well, I'll leave it up to you.' Yoshie couldn't help adding - too desperate to care about appearances - 'But do you think Yayoi will be able to manage the money?' Although she was used to taking care of things at home and here at the factory, she was beginning to see how comforting it could be to rely on Masako's strength. And if Masako could be trusted to deal with the rest of it, all she'd have to worry about personally was the money.

'Everything's set,' said Masako. 'She'll get it from her parents. And I think she's going to file a missing persons report tomorrow.'

While the two of them were whispering together, one of the Brazilian workers came up to say hello. The young man was apparently part Japanese, but his solid build made him seem completely foreign. Yoshie returned the greeting, but Masako made a point of ignoring him.

'Why did you do that?' said Yoshie, upset that she should be so rude.

'Do what?'

'Treat him like that,' she said, glancing at the young man, who stood for a moment looking puzzled before going into the changing room. Without answering, Masako changed the subject.

'Do you know where Kuniko lives?' she asked.

'I'm sure she said something about a city housing project in Kodaira.' Yoshie watched as Masako seemed to unfold a map in her head and make plans for the morning. It was all a job to her, she thought, a job that had to be done well. But then she realised how quickly the money had made her, too, forget her scruples. The shame was almost more than she could stand.

'You know,' she murmured, 'we're all heading straight to hell.'

'Yes,' said Masako, giving her a bleak look. 'It's like riding downhill with no brakes.'

'You mean, there's no way to stop?'

'No, you stop all right - when you crash.'

What would they crash into, Yoshie wondered. What was waiting for them around the next corner? The thought made her tremble.