t was late afternoon. As soon as she got out of bed, Kuniko turned on the TV. Then she had a boxed lunch - one of theirs, naturally which she'd bought at the convenience store on the corner. It was a grilled beef lunch, probably made on the line next to hers, and she could immediately detect the hand of a novice in the way the meat was arranged on the rice. So much the better! New girls could never keep up with the pace of the conveyor belt, and the container was always getting away from them before they'd really finished smoothing the meat - which meant that the lunch contained a mound of twisted beef that was far bigger than the usual portion.

It was a sign, getting a lunch like this: it was going to be her lucky day. She spread out the pieces of meat, carefully counting each one. Eleven! It's amazing that Nakayama didn't blow a fuse, she chuckled to herself. The Skipper could completely cover the rice with just six pieces. The Skipper... She seemed rather flush lately. She'd suddenly announced that she was sending her daughter to college, and then said they were looking for a new apartment. How could she afford all that on the ¥500,000 from Yayoi? It would cost nearly that just to move.

Maybe she'd had something stashed away? No, that was ridiculous. Kuniko knew how hard up she'd been before all this in fact, she'd often thought she would rather die than have to live the way Yoshie did. There was something fishy about the whole thing. She sat puzzling over this mystery, being more than usually keen when it came to money matters.

Her speculations developed into a theory: maybe Yayoi had secretly decided to pay Yoshie more than ¥500,000. Once she'd hit on this idea, there was no way to control her jealousy. She had always found the thought of anyone else's happiness almost unbearable, and she was easily convinced that she was getting a raw deal. Now these feelings fuelled her theory. Deciding that she would have to corner Yoshie - no, Yayoi - at the factory and grill her, she picked up her chopsticks and started wolfing down the meat.

In mid-mouthful, she stopped chewing for a moment and grinned, remembering that she still had ¥180,00 0 left of the money she'd received. After paying off the interest on various loans, she'd had plenty left over for the red leather jacket, a black skirt and a purple sweater. A pair of boots had caught her eye as well, but she'd decided to forgo them in favour of some new cosmetics. And she still had ¥180,000. Was there anything better than cash in your pocket? Wiping out Jumonji's loan had been a real stroke of luck.

She had absolutely no interest in knowing why Jumonji had wanted to find out their secret or how he had used the information. As long as it didn't come back to haunt her, what did it matter? It had crossed her mind that she'd go to jail if the whole thing ever came out, but now that the police seemed to have lost interest, that hardly seemed likely. Her part in it all, the whole mess - it all seemed like ancient history now. Except if she could still make it pay... Threats, blackmail, anything for the bottom line!

She tossed the empty lunch container in the trash and went to wash her face, then sat down at her dressing table to apply her make-up for work. She pulled the wrapper off a new lipstick and tried it on. The new brown for autumn. The clerk at the make-up counter had persuaded her to buy it, but now she realised it made her pale, fleshy face look sinister. Her lips seemed to jump out at her. When she'd tried it on at the store, the woman had told her how nice it looked. How could she have believed her? ¥4,500 down the drain. She'd have been better off with an ¥800 lipstick from the supermarket.... Still, she might be able to make it work if she changed the kind of foundation she was using. Pleased with this new idea, she began leafing through her magazines for features on make-up. Yes, everything would be okay if she bought a new foundation... and the boots. She bought things to satisfy a need; and the new products themselves invariably led to new needs, in a gradually mounting spiral. But in the final analysis, this endless chase was the reason for Kuniko's existence - it was her whole existence.

Finishing with her make-up, she slipped on the new purple sweater and the new black skirt over a pair of black tights. Now this was more like it. As she gave herself a satisfied look in the mirror, she felt a sudden rush: she wanted a man. When was the last time she'd had sex? She pulled out the Mister Minute calendar. Tetsuya had left at the end of July, so it had been more than three months. He'd been a useless asshole, but there had been one upside to having him around. Feeling suddenly depressed, she threw herself down among the clothes strewn on the bed.

She wanted somebody to tell her how pretty she looked in all her new things. She wanted somebody to hold her. And not a wimp like Tetsuya; a real man - any man. Even a groper would do, even a one-night stand, if she could only get lucky enough to land one. Her longing grew uncontrollably, demanding satisfaction.

Just as her imagination had given rise to a whole series of suspicions about Yoshie, just as one product seemed to stimulate a need for lots more, now her sexual desire seemed to grow out of all proportion. She suddenly thought of Kazuo Miyamori. He was probably a few years younger than she was, but he was goodlooking and well built - maybe because of the mixed blood - and she'd had her eye on him for some time. He'd been so nice and polite when they'd asked him to take care of their money. If he had to share that dorm room of his with a room-mate, you could bet he'd be getting a little horny. Confident in her reading of the situation, she decided she'd find an excuse to talk with him at the factory. Yes, that's what she'd do. Remembering again that she had money in her purse, she got up from the bed with her spirits restored.

***

Kuniko opened the car door. She decided to carry her jacket in order to show off the purple sweater. Since she'd just had her hair done, she would keep the top of the Golf up today. The one thing bothering her was the possibility of running into Masako in the parking lot. She couldn't stand the sight of the woman's face any more, and she certainly had no intention of working the same line with her. But the only way to avoid seeing her was to get to work a little early. The thought made Kuniko drive away more recklessly than usual.

When she reached the factory parking lot, a man was standing next to the new guardhouse there. A nightstick hung from the belt of his grey uniform, and a large flashlight was attached to the breast pocket. Kuniko got out of the car slowly, her mood somewhat dampened by the realisation that with the guard there she'd never get her date with the neighbourhood pervert - exactly as Masako had predicted. She glared at him as she shut the car door.

'Good evening,' the man said, bowing in her direction. Impressed by this show of gallantry, she looked at him more carefully. The guards at the factory were all retirees who were way over the hill, but this one was much younger. He was solidly built and looked quite sharp in his uniform. It was too dark in the lot to get a good look at his face, but she had a feeling she'd like it, too.

'Morning!' she almost shouted, buoyed up again. He seemed surprised by this hearty greeting, but only for a second.

'Are you headed for the factory?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Kuniko.

'Then I'll walk you there,' he said, coming over to her car. His voice was low and smooth.

'Will you really?' Kuniko purred, beginning to flirt in earnest.

'I'm supposed to walk everyone at least part of the way.'

'Each of us individually?'

'Yes, but just till we get past the old factory, where the light gets better.' The light from the guardhouse showed his profile for a moment. It was a plain enough face, though the thick lips were attractive. There was something strange about it, however, not a face that fell into any of her known categories.

'Still, I'd be glad for the company at least that far,' she said, congratulating herself on having worn her new outfit, and having spent the extra time on her make-up. She felt sure she looked especially good today. Hoping that something might come of this, she waited for a moment at the entrance to the lot while the guard removed his flashlight and shone it on the ground in front of her feet. The brightly lit circle of gravel faded at its fringes. She fell in step next to him, enjoying the idea that they were leaving on an adventure together, heading off down the dark road.

'Is that your own car?' the man said. His voice sounded brighter, as if his mood now matched hers.

'Yes.'

'Not bad,' he said, sounding quite impressed.

'Thanks,' Kuniko giggled, forgetting for the moment that she had three more years of payments to make on the car.

'How long have you had it?'

'Three years now. But it costs a fortune. It doesn't get very good... what's the word?'

'Mileage?' he said.

'That's it. It doesn't get good mileage.' She gave his arm a squeeze as she said this, and her heart skipped a beat as her hand met hard muscle.

'How many kilometres to the litre?' he asked.

'Oh, I don't know,' she said. 'But the man at the gas station says it's not so good.'

'They say the handling's a little sluggish, too.'

'You certainly seem to know a lot about it,' she said, smiling broadly. She felt a surge of happiness. 'Have you driven one?'

'Not me. Foreign cars are too rich for my blood.' The man smiled as he came to a stop in front of the abandoned factory. The dilapidated building had always struck her as rather creepy, but today it seemed to lend some atmosphere to the situation, like the fanciful ruins tricked up for an amusement park. 'This is as far as I go,' the guard said. Kuniko felt a bit disappointed that their walk had come to such a sudden end. 'You be careful now,' he added, giving a quick salute. 'And have a good shift.'

'Thanks!' said Kuniko as brightly as she could, delighted to have discovered such a promising prospect. Who knew where it might lead? And in response to this new stimulus, all her other fancies came bubbling to the surface. She'd buy a new suit as well, to match the boots. Black, of course - it made you look slimmer. She was in such a good mood now, nothing could bother her; and if she ran into Kazuo Miyamori, he'd just have to take a rain check.

Humming to herself, she changed into her soiled uniform, which she resolved to take home soon for a good washing. Yoshie then appeared in the changing room in her usual worn-out sweatshirt and a tired black sweater. On her chest, though, was a brand-new silver pin. Kuniko noticed it immediately, and her brain did a quick appraisal: at least ¥5,000, she decided. Much too fancy for the Skipper.

'You're early.' The look of dislike on Yoshie's face as she said this made Kuniko's blood boil, but she controlled herself.

'Good morning,' she answered in her politest manner. Then she tried flattery: 'That's a beautiful brooch.'

'This?' Yoshie said, with a faint smile. 'I decided I just had to have it. I've always wanted one like this, but I could never afford it. It was either this or getting my hair done, and I went for the brooch. It's a little present to myself.'

'With Yayoi's money?' Kuniko asked, dropping her voice.

'Yes,' said Yoshie, her face turning red. 'I suppose I should be ashamed of myself.'

'Not at all, I think it's lovely.' Having finished changing and knowing that Masako would be showing up any minute, she decided it was time to begin pumping her. 'Skipper,' she said, 'I wanted to ask you something about the money.'

Yoshie lowered her voice too and looked around the room before saying, 'What about it?'

'Did you really get the same amount I did?'

'What do you mean?' she said, looking annoyed.

'Nothing, nothing, it's just that I didn't do very much and I was afraid I took too much. I didn't want any hard feelings about getting the same as you did... since Masako originally said I'd be getting ¥100,000.'

'Don't worry about it,' Yoshie told her, patting her ample shoulder. 'We all had a bad time.'

'So you really got ¥500,000?'

'I really did,' Yoshie nodded. But Kuniko noticed she avoided her eyes. She's lying, she thought.

'Then how can you afford to be living so high on the hog?'

'High on the hog? What are you talking about?' she said, astonished.

'I'm talking about all the things you've been doing. It looks to me as though you got more than ¥500,000.'

'Even if I did, what business is it of yours?'

'None really, I suppose,' said Kuniko, giving Yoshie's brooch a vicious look. Yoshie glanced toward the lounge, as if searching for someone to rescue her, and her face relaxed into a relieved smile. Masako had just arrived, looking a bit smarter than usual herself, in a form-fitting black sweater and black pants.

'I don't believe it,' Kuniko said in an exaggerated whisper. 'She actually looks like a woman.' Masako, however, apparently missed the remark, as she went straight over to the ashtray near the vending machines to smoke a cigarette. While she puffed away, she stared gloomily at the notices taped to the wall. Kuniko studied the unfamiliar outfit. The two of them had pulled a fast one on her, she thought. Still, she couldn't confront Masako with it.

'See you later,' she said to Yoshie, picking up her work hat and hurrying out of the changing room. She slipped behind Masako, who was still facing the wall, and escaped out into the corridor. Yayoi was next, and she wouldn't rest until she got the truth out of her.

But there was no sign of her. She waited, but she didn't come. She went to the entrance and was just about to check the time cards when she sensed there was someone behind her.

'Yayoi won't be coming,' Masako said. She had already changed into her uniform.

'What?'

'You heard me,' she said, pushing past her to punch her own card.

'Oh... ' said Kuniko, hating herself for still being afraid of her, 'you mean, she won't be coming today, or won't be coming at all?'

'At all.'

'Why's that?'

'Maybe because she didn't like you blackmailing her,' Masako said as she was taking her ruined sneakers out of the shoe cupboard. They'd once been white, but had long since turned dark brown from all the grease and a particularly sticky sauce used for tempura lunches.

'You're horrible!' Kuniko bleated. 'I was just trying to... '

'Give it a rest!' said Masako, wheeling on her with eyes blazing. Kuniko froze.

'What d'you mean?' she muttered.

'You got your ¥500,000, and you sold us out to Jumonji for the price of your loan. What more do you want?' Kuniko's mouth dropped open. So she knew.

'How did you find out?'

'He told me, of course. Are you stupid as well as lazy?'

Kuniko, cheeks puffed out resentfully, knew it wasn't the first time she'd said this to her. 'No need to be so mean, ' she complained.

'Mean? You're a lot worse than mean,' said Masako, clipping her with her elbow as she pushed by.

'Don't!' she squealed: it hurt to have that bony arm jabbing you through your clothes.

'Your big mouth's going to send us all to hell,' Masako spat out. 'But you've dug your own grave too, you fool!' And she stormed off toward the stairs that led down to the factory floor.

As she disappeared around the corner, Kuniko realised for the first time that she'd made a serious mistake. But as usual she couldn't blame herself for long. If things got too rough here at the factory, she would just have to find another job. It was a shame, just when she'd met that nice guard; but if push came to shove, she would have to put some distance between herself and the rest of them.

She looked at the wooden rack that held the time cards for the part-time workers. Two years she'd been here, and she'd finally got used to things. But if she had to go elsewhere, maybe she could find something less gruelling, somewhere pleasant that paid better, with nicer co-workers. Some place where they had nice men. There had to be a job like that somewhere. Maybe even something in the entertainment line - today she had the confidence to imagine even that. Yes, she'd start looking right away. Her itch for better things would spur her on, and there was the added incentive of getting free of the whole nasty mess.

***

After the shift, a weary Kuniko returned home to find a welcome surprise. She had parked her car in the lot and was walking past the rows of mailboxes by the door to her building when a man turned to look at her.

'Well, this is a coincidence,' he said. For a moment she didn't recognise him. 'We met last night at the parking lot,' he explained.

'I'm sorry!' she bubbled. 'I didn't realise! Isn't this amazing!' It was the guard. He was out of uniform now, dressed in a navy-blue jacket and grey work pants; and besides, she'd barely seen his face in the dark last night. He snapped shut the door of his wooden mailbox, still covered with stickers from the previous tenant's children, and turned to face her. Seen straight on, he was rather nice-looking, though there was still something strange - a bit scary, even - about him. She felt her heart race. The luck of the boxed lunch was still with her.

'Is this when you usually get home? ' he said, unaware apparently of Kuniko's designs. He glanced at his watch - a cheap digital, she noted. 'That's a tough shift.'

'It is,' she said, 'but not any harder than yours.'

'But I've just started,' he said, 'so it hasn't really sunk in, I guess.' As he reached into the pocket of his jacket for a cigarette, his sleepy eyes glanced out the window at the late November sunrise. 'It must be hard on you ladies, though, especially now that it's so dark in the morning.'

'You get used to it.' Kuniko decided not to mention that she was quitting.

'I suppose so/ he said. 'By the way, I haven't introduced myself. The name's Sato.' He took his cigarette from his mouth and bowed politely.

'Kuniko Jonouchi,' she said, bowing back. 'I'm on the fifth floor.'

'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you,' he said, his straight white teeth showing when he smiled.

'The pleasure's mine,' said Kuniko. 'Do you live alone?' she added.

'To tell you the truth,' he said hesitantly, 'I'm divorced. I'm all by myself here.' Divorced! Her eyes twinkled with delight, though he didn't seem to notice. He looked away, apparently embarrassed.

'I see. Well, your secret's safe with me. You see, I'm in the same boat myself.' Sato gave her a surprised look. And hadn't she also seen a hint of satisfaction, of desire even, in his eyes? That settled it: she'd get the boots and the suit, and a gold necklace for good measure. She glanced past him to check the number on his mailbox. Apartment 412.