Alien Rice; A Novel. Read Online Free PDF

the Japanese travelers finally emerged, satisfied and grinning like Cheshire cats.
    When Saburo arrived home and sneaked into the bedroom, Alice was awake.
    "Where have you been, Saburo?" she inquired searchingly.
    "You know, I had to take that Mr. Takano out to dinner and later to a film."
    "But you cannot be this late. It's nearly three in the morning. What have you been doing since the film?"
    Alice was suspicious. Saburo was tempted to tell her about his hanging round the Maida Vale area. But it was such a shabby experience and he was too proud to tell her the truth.
    "After seeing a picture at the Gaumont Theatre we went into the Lyons' Corner House at Marble Arch. There I got into a long argument with Mr. Takano. He is in the same line of business as I and so engaged me in all sorts of discussion-about the need to revamp the export license system and all that," Saburo lied.
    "I can hardly believe you, Saburo. You've entertained many visitors from Japan before but never come home so late at night. You are not talkative by nature and certainly not argumentative. Why are you home so late?"
    "It was Takano and his secretary who were argumentative. Especially after drinking sake at the Japanese Club."
    Saburo then embraced Alice tenderly. Her suspicion gradually melted as Saburo demonstrated his eagerness to possess her, and his unusually vigorous performance that night sent her to bliss and ecstasy such as she had not experienced for some time.
    Time flew like an arrow, and it was almost two years since they had been married and started a new life. The strange life of a Japanese company employee had been imposed on a normal, sensible British woman. Spiritually they were in wedlock and felt very close to each other, but physically the couple were very much apart because of Saburo's golfing over weekends, his late homecoming, his frequent business trips to the Continent. Alice very appropriately described herself as "a golf widow." Had it not been for the fact that she was working at Tozai during the day the situation would have been well-nigh impossible. She often thought of those silent wives of Saburo's colleagues whom she had met at Mrs. Takahashi's tea, and marveled at their infinite stoicism and forbearance.
    As if all these semi-official evening activities were not enough, Saburo went to play mahjong in his colleagues' houses from time to time. A game of mahjong was always a stag affair and often lasted until well after midnight. Members of other trading firms in London also played with the Tozai boys, and they all seemed to enjoy the game and played for very high stakes sometimes.
    "Saburo, must you really play this silly game of mahjong? It's so time-consuming and wears you out," Alice burst out one night.
    "No, on the contrary, mahjong is about the only relaxation we trading people can enjoy. As you know, Alice, even a game of golf is a part of our work and is not always an enjoyment. Especially when playing with our customers and Head Office people, it could be a serious mental strain at times. The only time we are really free from worry and restraint is when we play mahjong," Saburo explained.
    "You must think of your home, dear. I've made so many concessions to you. You are seldom home over weekends because you are busy playing golf. At first I thought it was impossible, but now I understand. You come home late from the office; this, too, I understand. But playing mahjong until midnight just for your enjoyment? No. You should quit playing mahjong." Alice was firm.
    "If I stayed away from mahjong my colleagues would think me odd and unsociable. Even now many of them tease me for having married you, saying that I'm a henpecked husband and all that. If I stopped mahjong what would they say? Besides, mahjong is often a means of smoothing our relations with rival trading firms such as Tokyo Trading. Over mahjong we fish for information about their activities and get to know them, which is very essential in carrying out