There was ice everywhere today, and the temperature dropped to below zero. Even more to chill the spirit was the photo in today's paper of ten tokkō kamikaze pilots who lost their lives, seven of whom were newly recruited students. My heart nearly stopped when I saw one of the faces – such a striking resemblance to Kazu that it could have been him as a teenager. The paper extolled kamikaze heroism, and reported that the Americans were losing more than half of their strength: US ‘quantity’ overpowered by Japanese ‘quality’. Were these reports meant to lift morale? Everything is terribly depressing.

Tuesday, 12 December

I dropped by at Cheeko's after buying rice cakes – an unexpected find – from the Japanese grocery van. After trying to manoeuvre my bicycle over icy roads with little mobility because of layers and layers of clothing, it was a joy to be in her home. Her hot jasmine tea and home-baked almond biscuits tasted particularly delicious.

‘I don't know how you go around town on that bicycle of yours in this freezing weather,’ Cheeko said, laughing at my red cheeks. ‘I don't remember Shanghai being so cold in all my fifteen years here. It can't be the war changing the weather, but it almost seems as if with each crisis – first in 1932, then 1937, and now – it gets colder!’

‘How are Taro and Hanako?’ I asked. I heard so much about Taro, that it was easy to overlook his perky younger sister.

‘They’re fine, but very dark atmosphere in their schools, maybe because of all the talk about the tokkō. Even if they’re hailed as heroes, and we hear about victories in the Philippines day in and day out, the young ones sense the desperation. I try not to think about it. It only makes me worry about Osamu. Instead, I pray for war's end to come soon,’ Cheeko said with a sigh.

‘Hanako said to me the other day, “Mama, I think you should be teaching me how to cook and sew.