Klara and the Sun

by Kazuo Ishiguro

  ‘Hey, Klara. Why don’t you come down for a while to the bedroom. I mean, if you’re not busy, that is.’

  So I descended with her and found myself once more in the old room. Many details had changed. Aside from Josie’s own bed, there was now a permanent second cot for her visitors, while the Button Couch had been removed altogether. Many smaller details had also changed – for instance, Josie was now sitting in a new desk chair with castors on its feet, so that if she wished, she could move about while still sitting. But the Sun’s patterns on the wall were just as I’d remembered them from the many afternoons we’d spent there together. I sat down on the edge of her bed, and for a while we talked happily.

  ‘Everyone you speak to says they’re not scared of college,’ Josie said at one point. ‘But you wouldn’t believe, Klara, just how scared some of them really are. I’m kind of scared too, I’m not going to pretend I’m not. But you know what? I’m not going to let fear get in my way. I’ve made myself a solemn promise about that. Hey, did I tell you this before? We’re all supposed to set these official targets. Two targets in each of five categories. I had to fill in a form about it, but I cheated, because I figured out my own secret targets, nothing to do with the ones on the form. Boy, would they not like my real list! And no way is Mom ever hearing about it either!’ She laughed cheerfully. ‘Even you, Klara. I’m not sharing my secret targets with you. But if you’re still here when I get back at Christmas, I’ll tell you how many I’ve got through.’

  This was one of few allusions Josie made during this period to my own possible departure. And she referred to it again on the morning she finally drove away with the Mother.

  She’d hoped, I knew, that Rick would come to wave her off. But as it turned out, he was many miles away that day, meeting his new friends to talk about his hard-to-detect data-gathering devices. So it was just myself and the New Housekeeper who stood in the loose stones area, watching Josie and the Mother place the last of her luggage in the Mother’s car.

  Then, once the Mother was ready behind the wheel, Josie came back towards me, the caution that had never left her walk making her feet sink noisily into the pebbles with each step. She looked excited and strong, and before she’d reached me, held up her arms as though trying to form the largest Y she could. Then she held me in an embrace that lasted many moments. She’d become taller than me, so she had to crouch a little, resting her chin on my left shoulder, and her long, rich hair fell across a section of my vision. When she pulled away, she was smiling, but I could see also some sadness. That was when she said:

  ‘I guess you may not be here when I get back. You’ve been just great, Klara. You really have.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you for choosing me.’

  ‘No-brainer.’ Then she gave me a second hug, this one more brief, and stood back again. ‘Bye, Klara. You be good now.’

  ‘Goodbye, Josie.’

  She waved cheerfully once more as she was getting into the car – the wave aimed at me rather than the New Housekeeper. Then the car moved away up the road, past the windy trees and over the hill, in just the way Josie and I had watched it do many times before.

  * * *

  —

  Over the last few days, some of my memories have started to overlap in curious ways. For instance, the dark sky morning when the Sun saved Josie, the trip to Morgan’s Falls and the illuminated diner Mr Vance chose will come into my mind, merged together into a single setting. The Mother will be standing with her back to me, watching the mist from the waterfall. Yet I am not watching her from the wooden picnic bench, but instead from my booth in Mr Vance’s diner. And although Mr Vance isn’t visible, I can hear his unkind words coming from across the aisle. Meanwhile, above the Mother and the waterfall, the dark clouds have gathered, the same dark clouds that gathered the morning the Sun saved Josie, small cylinders and pyramids flying by in the wind.

  I know this isn’t disorientation, because if I wish to, I can always distinguish one memory from another, and place each one back in its true context. Besides, even when such composite memories come into my mind, I remain conscious of their rough borders – such as might have been created by an impatient child tearing with her fingers instead of cutting with scissors – separating, say, the Mother at the waterfall and my diner booth. And if I looked closely at the dark clouds, I would notice they were not, in fact, quite in scale in relation to the Mother or the waterfall. Even so, such composite memories have sometimes filled my mind so vividly, I’ve forgotten for long moments that I am, in reality, sitting here in the Yard, on this hard ground.

  The Yard is large, and from my special place here, the only tall object I can see is the construction crane in the far distance. The sky is very wide and open, and if Rick and I were once more crossing Mr McBain’s fields – especially now the grass has been cut – the sky might appear to us just like this. The wide sky means I’m able to watch the Sun’s journeys unimpeded, and even on cloudy days, I’m always aware of where he is above me.

  I thought when I first came here that the Yard was untidy, but I’ve now come to appreciate its good order. The initial impression, I realized, was due to many of the objects here having in themselves an untidy identity – with the remains of severed cables protruding or with dented grille panels. On closer observation it becomes clear how hard the yardmen have worked to place each piece of machinery, crate or bundle into orderly rows, so that a visitor walking down the long passages that have been created in this way – even if that visitor must be careful not to trip on a rod or wire – will be able to take in the objects one by one.

  Because of the wide sky and lack of tall objects, I become quickly aware of any visitors in the Yard. I spot their figures even if they are far in the distance and only small shapes moving among the rows. But visitors aren’t frequent, and when I hear human voices, they most often belong to the yardmen calling to each other.

  Sometimes birds will come down from the sky, but they soon discover there is little in the Yard to interest them. Not long ago a group of dark birds descended in elegant formation to perch on some machinery not far in front of me, and I thought for a moment they might be Rick’s birds sent to observe me. Of course they weren’t Rick’s birds, but natural ones, and they remained calmly perched on the machinery for some time, not moving at all, even as the wind ruffled their coats. Then they flew off all at once.

  Around the same time, a kind yardman stopped in front of me and told me there were three AFs on the South Side, and two in the Ring. If I wished, he said, he could transport me to one or the other of these areas. But I told him I was content with my special spot, and he nodded and went on his way.

  Several days ago, there was a very special incident.

  Although I’m not able to move from place to place, I can turn my head easily to see everything around me. So I’d been aware for some time of the long-coated visitor moving behind me. Once, when I turned, the figure was in the mid-distance, and I saw it was that of a woman, and that she was wearing at the end of a strap a pouch-like bag. Whenever she leaned forward to examine an item on the ground, the bag would swing before her. Because she was behind me, I couldn’t keep close watch on her, and then for a while – perhaps another memory had presented itself – I stopped thinking about her altogether. Then I heard a sound and the long-coated visitor was standing there before me. And even before she crouched down to look at my face, I recognized Manager, and happiness filled my mind.

  ‘Klara. It is Klara, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, smiling up at her.

  ‘Klara. How wonderful. Just a moment. Let me bring something to sit on.’

  She returned, dragging a small metal crate that made an unpleasant noise along the rough ground. When she placed it in front of me and sat down, despite the wide sky behind her, I was able to observe her face clearly.

  ‘I’ve been hoping
I’d find you here. Once, oh, almost a year ago now, I found something here in this yard, and I thought for a moment it was you, Klara. But it wasn’t. But this time it’s definitely you. I’m so glad.’

  ‘I’m happy to see Manager again.’

  She went on smiling at me. Then she said: ‘I wonder what you can be thinking just now. To see me again after all this time. It must be so confusing.’

  ‘I feel only happiness to see Manager again.’

  ‘Then tell me, Klara. Have you all this time – until you came here, I mean – have you all this time been with the people you went to from the store? Forgive my asking, but I no longer have easy access to such information.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I was with Josie all the time. Until she went to college.’

  ‘So it was successful. A successful home.’

  ‘Yes. I believe I gave good service and prevented Josie from becoming lonely.’

  ‘I’m sure you did. I’m sure she barely knew the meaning of loneliness with you there.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘You know, Klara. Of all the AFs I looked after, you were certainly one of the most remarkable. You had such unusual insight. And observational abilities. I noticed it right away. I’m so glad to hear it all went well. Because you never know, even with abilities as remarkable as yours.’

  ‘Does Manager still look after AFs?’

  ‘No. Oh, no. That finished some time ago.’ She glanced around the Yard, then smiled at me again. ‘That’s why I like to come here from time to time. I sometimes go to the yard at Memorial Bridge. But I like this place the best.’

  ‘Does Manager come…just to look for AFs from her store?’

  ‘Not just that. I like to collect little souvenirs.’ She indicated her pouch bag. ‘They don’t allow us to take anything substantial. But smaller things, they don’t mind. The workers here know me. But you’re right. Whenever I come here I’m hoping to come upon one of my old AFs.’

  ‘Did you ever come across Rosa?’

  ‘Rosa? Yes, actually I did. I found her here, oh, it must be at least two years ago. Things didn’t go as well for Rosa as they did for you.’

  ‘So she didn’t like her teenager?’

  ‘It wasn’t so much that. But you mustn’t worry. Never mind Rosa. Tell me about you. You had such a special ability. I hope your child came to appreciate it.’

  ‘I think she did. Everyone in the house was very kind to me. I was able to learn so many things.’

  ‘I remember the day they came in and chose you. The lady testing you first, asking you to walk like the daughter. It made me worry. After you left, I kept thinking about it.’

  ‘There was no need for Manager to worry. It was the best home for me. And Josie was the best teenager.’

  Manager, for a moment, remained silent, gazing at me and smiling. So I continued:

  ‘I did all I could to do what was best for Josie. I’ve thought about it many times now. And if it had become necessary, I’m sure I could have continued Josie. But it’s much better the way it turned out, even though Rick and Josie aren’t together.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Klara. But what do you mean, “continue Josie”? What’s that mean?’

  ‘Manager, I did all I could to learn Josie and had it become necessary, I would have done my utmost. But I don’t think it would have worked out so well. Not because I wouldn’t have achieved accuracy. But however hard I tried, I believe now there would have remained something beyond my reach. The Mother, Rick, Melania Housekeeper, the Father. I’d never have reached what they felt for Josie in their hearts. I’m now sure of this, Manager.’

  ‘Well, Klara, I’m glad you feel things worked out for the best.’

  ‘Mr Capaldi believed there was nothing special inside Josie that couldn’t be continued. He told the Mother he’d searched and searched and found nothing like that. But I believe now he was searching in the wrong place. There was something very special, but it wasn’t inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her. That’s why I think now Mr Capaldi was wrong and I wouldn’t have succeeded. So I’m glad I decided as I did.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s right, Klara. It’s what I always want to hear when I come across my AFs again. That you’re glad about how it all went. That you have no regrets. Did you know, there are some B3s over there, over on that far side? They’re not from our store, but if you’d like some company, I could ask the men to move you.’

  ‘No, thank you, Manager. You’re as kind as ever. But I like this spot. And I have my memories to go through and place in the right order.’

  ‘That’s probably wise. I wouldn’t have said this in the store, but I was never able to feel towards B3s as I did towards your generation. I often think the customers felt something similar. They never really took to them, for all the B3s’ technical advances. I’m so glad I came across you today, Klara. I’ve thought about you so often. You were one of the finest I ever had.’

  She rose to her feet, her bag swaying again in front of her.

  ‘Before you go, Manager. I must report to you one more thing. The Sun was very kind to me. He was always kind to me from the start. But when I was with Josie, once, he was particularly kind. I wanted Manager to know.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure the Sun has always been good to you, Klara.’

  As she said this, Manager turned to the wide sky behind her, raising a hand to her eyes, and for a moment we looked at the Sun together. Then she turned back to me and said: ‘I have to get on. Well, Klara. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Manager. Thank you.’

  She reached down to the metal crate she’d been sitting on, and dragged it back to its original position, making the same unpleasant noise. She then walked away down the long passage between the rows, and it was noticeable how she walked differently to the way she had in the store. With each second step, she would lean to her left in a way that made me worry her long coat on that side might touch the dirty ground. When she was mid-distance, she stopped and turned, and I thought she might look back one last time at me. But she was gazing at the far distance, in the direction of the construction crane on the horizon. Then she continued to walk away.

  A Note About the Author

  Kazuo Ishiguro was born in Nagasaki, Japan, in 1954 and moved to Britain at the age of five. His eight previous works of fiction have earned him many honors around the world, including the Nobel Prize in Literature and the Booker Prize. His work has been translated into over fifty languages, and The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go, both made into acclaimed films, have each sold more than 2 million copies. He was given a knighthood in 2018 for Services to Literature. He also holds the decorations of Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from France and the Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Star, from Japan.

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