by India Millar
The rest of us knew the truth, but it didn’t matter. We also knew there was no place for us in the world outside the Hidden House. Unless we were lucky enough to be bought out by a patron to be his mistress, then we were better off protected by Auntie.
And now that I had Ken, I had even less desire to leave the Hidden House.
I bowed my head and waited to be dismissed. I had my answer, and it was the one I had expected. I was ready to mumble my apologies for disturbing Akira-san and Auntie and turn to leave when I realized what Akira-san was saying and I froze.
“Oh, I don’t know, Hana.” I was so shocked I raised my head and looked directly, rudely, at Akira. Hana? Auntie’s name was Hana? I was bewildered. Auntie was just Auntie. It seemed impossible that she should have a name like the rest of us. “The girls have been very good lately. Business is flourishing in the Hidden House. Shall we give them a little treat?”
“All of them?” Auntie frowned.
“Well, no. Just one of them. Mineko, you were probably closer to Kiku than anybody else. Would you like to visit with her? See the baby?”
Would I! I almost twitched with eagerness. But then I remembered the eager faces that had prompted me to come here, and I sighed inwardly.
“I would love to, Akira-san,” I said simply. “But it wouldn’t be fair on the rest of the geisha if only I were allowed to go. Perhaps…perhaps we could draw lots for the honor?”
Akira-san threw back his head and laughed loudly. “Dear Mineko. What a tender heart you have.” He grinned. “But I’m afraid not. It’s you or none of you. You know Edo far better than the other girls. And you will not stand out in the streets like they would.”
He paused, watching me squirm. He was right, of course. I knew every twist and turn of every street in the Floating World. The others didn’t know Edo at all. And of course, if any of the other girls went outside the Hidden House, they would attract a huge amount of attention.
“We could go in a closed carriage,” I pleaded, but Akira was having none of it.
“Here.” He reached inside his robe and produced a small purse. He threw it to me. “There’s enough there to buy a nice trinket from Mori-san for each of the girls. That might appease their disappointment a little, and I don’t doubt it will go a long way toward smoothing Mori-san’s dignity when you turn up.”
I clutched the purse and bowed myself out before he could change his mind.
It was silly, but I was absurdly nervous about going out into the teaming streets of the Floating World. The last time I had been out of the Hidden House had been well over three years ago, when I was still a maid and escorted Midori to the kabuki. Was there anything of that confident, worldly girl left in me? Judging by the way I jumped at every unexpected noise and scurried with my head down, I doubted it.
I had expected that Auntie would insist on Bigger—or if I was impossibly lucky, Ken—accompanying me, both to ensure that I got to Mori-san’s establishment in safety and—far more importantly in Auntie’s view—came back to the Hidden House. I was shocked when she said one of the maids would go with me, but now I realized that Auntie knew me better than I knew myself. Those three years had changed me, and she knew it. With every step through the crowded, noisy streets, I began to long for the quiet and security of the Hidden House. I nearly screamed out loud when a hand fell on my arm, stopping me so suddenly my maid almost trod on the back of my kimono.
“Nice day for a walk, dear.” A man was close beside me, far too close for either politeness or comfort. He grinned at me and nestled his head on my shoulder, his face turned awkwardly to stare at me.
“Yes, lord,” I whispered. He obviously wasn’t noble, but flattery never went astray with a man.
“And where are we going to, my pretty geisha?”
Auntie had insisted that I wear full makeup and my prettiest kimono. “I’m not having Kiku thinking things have gotten run down just because she’s left us,” Auntie had said firmly. The time it had taken to get ready had irritated me, but I was so eager to get on my way I would have agreed to almost anything.
“To Mori-san’s house, lord,” I answered quickly. No point in lying. Besides, Mori-san was a prosperous merchant, perhaps his name would give me a little respect from this man, who—judging by his dress—was probably a merchant himself.
“Ah. Mori-san has sent for you?”
“Yes, lord.”
I was astonished. His head lifted from my shoulder in a flash, and suddenly he was standing back from me and almost bowing.
“You must be on your way then, geisha.” His hand fluttered at me and I bowed quickly, walking away before he could change his mind.
I was so puzzled I almost walked past the new kabuki theater without noticing it. Almost, until a garish playbill caught my eye. There was a new danjuro taking the lead, of course. The name of “danjuro” was always given to the chief actor in the kabuki, the man who was lucky enough to be both supremely talented and to belong to the leading family in the theater, either born to the family, or—as was the case with Midori’s Danjuro—was so talented that he was adopted into the family. Would the new danjuro be as talented as Midori’s lover? I found it difficult to believe. The play was a new one, and I sighed out loud, remembering the wonderful times when I had accompanied my friend to the kabuki and we had sat in a private box, immersed in the action on the stage. At that moment, I longed to walk into the theater, to kneel at the feet of the new manager and beg to be made the smallest part of the theater. All nonsense, of course. I would be escorted back to the Hidden House as quickly as possible. Akira had wanted to buy his way into the old kabuki, and had been prevented by Danjuro. Instinctively, I knew that there would have been no barriers to his money and power from the new owners. In fact, it was entirely possible that Akira had a share in the new theater.
Forget it then.
But my memories of the old kabuki had given me courage. Now, I slowed a little, allowing myself to absorb the sounds and sights of the Floating World. Much had changed in the last few years. That was the way of the Floating World. Houses were constantly being burned down and rebuilt. Businesses came and went. But the street beneath my feet was still the same, and I had no problems finding my way to Mori-san.
I was grateful that no other man tried to stop me. In my new mood, I might well have told them exactly what they could do with themselves! But it was not only my attitude that I had changed. Slowly, I became aware of something out of place in the Floating World that I had known.
I turned and spoke to the maid, my eyes darting everywhere as I spoke. “We’re nearly there. Another couple of minutes should do it.”
She mumbled something in reply, but I didn’t hear what. All my senses were focused on something I could neither see or hear, but could feel. The hairs on my arms were prickling, and the sixth sense that has no name told me I was being watched. Was I being followed? I glanced around casually, as if fascinated by the crowds around me.
And truth to tell, the people who were thronging the streets came as a surprise. There had been some gaijin in the Floating World when I went out of the Hidden House with Midori. These days Akira even welcomed the gaijin menfolk into the Hidden House. But surely, there never used to be so many on the streets. And even more strangely, nobody except me seemed to find it amazing that they were not only here, but in such numbers.
I shrugged. I was behind the times, obviously. But in any event, nobody—Japanese or gaijin—seemed to be paying me any attention at all. Was I mistaken? Was it just nerves that made me think I was being followed? The explanation hit me with the force of a blow, and I felt my cheeks go pink with pleasure. Ken. Of course. He must have slid out of the Hidden House and followed me, to ensure I was safe. His was such a silent, graceful presence, I would never see him unless he wanted me to. But he was there, I was sure. It was enough. I would have skipped with pleasure if my high wooden geta had allowed it. I was almost sorry when we reached Mori-san’s establishment.
; It was far bigger and far more splendid than I had expected. I asked the man who stepped forward to serve me for Mori-san.
“Is Mori-san expecting you?” he asked courteously.
I nodded. “Please tell him that Mineko-san is here to visit Kiku-san.”
He bowed and scurried away quickly, returning a moment later to usher me through the shop into the house.
“Mineko-san! What a pleasant surprise!” Mori-san was looking behind me, and he relaxed visibly when he saw there was only me and my maid rather than the whole compliment of geisha from the Hidden House. “Please, will you come through to Kiku-chan? She will be delighted to see you.”
Mori-san almost tugged at my sleeve in his hurry to get me through, but I paused.
“Mori-san. Akira-san has been most generous.” At Akira’s name, Mori was suddenly still. “He has asked if you could provide a little present for each of us geisha, to honor Kiku-chan’s son.” I handed the heavy purse across, and added helpfully, “There are five of us.”
In spite of his caution, Mori’s eyes gleamed at sight of the purse. He glanced inside and his eyebrows shot up.
“Akira-san is most generous.” He patted the purse fondly. “I will ensure that there is something nice for each of you to take back to the Hidden House when you are ready to go.”
It had never occurred to me to see how much Akira had given me. Now I wished I had glanced inside the purse. Judging by Mori-san’s expression, Akira had been generous indeed. Which one of us did he want to impress, I wondered? Mori-san or me?
Kiku was so pleased to see me, she actually got to her feet to greet me. Mind you, she was sitting in a western style chair rather than curling up on the tatami. Not that there was any tatami! Instead, the floor was covered by what I thought was some sort of very large, very thick wall hanging. I had taken my shoes off as soon as I went into the house proper, of course, but I hesitated to walk on the beautiful tapestry on the floor, even in bare feet. Kiku saw my dilemma and laughed out loud.
“It’s all right, it’s meant for walking on,” she reassured me. “It’s called a carpet. It’s lovely, much softer and warmer than tatami. One of Mori’s gaijin customers gave it to him for a present, then he bought more and started selling them in the other shop for our Japanese clients. Everybody loves them.”
She enfolded me in a huge hug, and I cuddled her back, grateful for the distraction. Carpet instead of tatami? And since when had Mori-san opened a second shop? Truly, the world was changing around me.
She was right, though. The carpet was so soft and deep that my toes almost disappeared into it. It was warm and felt delicious beneath my feet. Would I have even noticed that before my night with Ken? I doubted it!
Kiku let me go before I could suffocate in her embrace and stood back to look at me critically.
“You’re blooming.” She grinned. “Now, tell me all the gossip!”
I slid my gaze sideways at my maid, who was hovering politely in the doorway. Kiku understood at once.
“You,” she said crisply. “My dog needs to go for a walk. Take her out, and take care of her. Take her along the river bank as far as the stand of willows. You can let her off her leash there for a while, but make sure she doesn’t go near the water. And don’t let anybody else’s mongrel get near her. Understand?”
My maid looked uncertain, and I could understand why. There was no sight of little Akane anywhere. Kiku clapped her hands twice and her own maid was there immediately, the little dog clasped in her arms. I smiled. Akane was wriggling and squealing happily, obviously aware that she was going for a walk.
My maid accepted the spaniel cautiously, holding her almost at arm’s length as she took her out of the door.
“She’ll be ages.” Kiku giggled. “Akane only goes as far as the willows as a special treat. They’ll both be worn out when they get back.” Suddenly shy, she added, “Would you like to see Ichiro, my son?”
“I would love to see him,” I said warmly, following Kiku as she opened a screen door into another room. Smaller than the first, but very light with a door opening on to a beautifully simple garden.
Kiku scooped her son from a crib and handed him to me. I took the warm, milky smelling little bundle as if he was the most precious thing in the world. I held him against my breast and for the first time in my whole life felt pain.
“Oh, Kiku!” I bawled. “He’s lovely. Beautiful.”
Ichiro stirred and opened his eyes, blowing bubbles at me happily. I wanted to squeeze him until he melded with my flesh. My stomach seemed to have leaped into my throat and was trying to strangle me. My guts had fused into a single, leaden lump that radiated heat. Kiku watched me with a curious expression on her face and then leaned forward and took him from me firmly. I wrapped my arms across my body, feeling his warmth where he had pressed against me.
Kiku marched into the other room and sat in her chair, rocking little Ichiro against her. I watched anxiously, biting my tongue to stop me telling her to be careful, not to drop him! She flipped open her robe and offered her son a massive breast. He immediately took her nipple into his mouth and suckled hungrily. I felt my own breasts long to feed him.
“I know.” Kiku smiled at me, secure again. “I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about either until he arrived, and then everything changed. I would kill anybody who so much as raised a finger against him. I want more babies, as many as I can pop out.”
I swallowed. I thought my eyes were watering, and then understood that I was crying. I watched Kiku and her baby through my tears, and felt an intense envy that bewildered me.
“You haven’t got a wet nurse?” Obviously not! But I said the first thing that came into my head, to cover my confusion.
“No. I always knew these great things,” she nodded toward her breasts, “would come in useful one day. And anyway, why should I let another woman have this joy?”
“Could I hold him again when you’ve finished?” I asked humbly.
“As long as you promise to give him back.”
We sat in silence for a while. Ichiro finally finished his meal and burped contentedly. He waved his tiny fists at Kiku, and then promptly fell asleep.
“Don’t wake him,” she cautioned and handed him over to me. “Now, tell me all the gossip.”
I hung on to Ichiro as if he was more valuable than any jewel in Mori-san’s shop, marveling at the perfection of his sweet face. His skin was pure silk, and already he looked like Kiku. He had her coloring, and her beautiful almond shaped eyes. I told Kiku so, and she grinned.
“I know. I tell Mori-san he looks like him, but it’s all lies,” she said smugly. “But never mind about that. What’s happening in the Hidden House?”
“Not a lot.” I told her about Sute’s arrival, but I had the strangest feeling she already knew.
“And what about you?” Kiku was smiling. I longed to tell her about Ken, to confide in her, if only to be able to talk about him, but I had been in the Hidden House for too long to relax. I stared around nervously, and Kiku nodded. “It’s all right. That’s why I sent your maid away. Nobody else is going to listen to us here. We’re safe.”
So I took a deep breath and told her about Ken. About my lover. Kiku let me babble on for a while, and then frowned. I stopped in mid-sentence, immediately worried.
“You can trust this man? He’s Akira’s new recruit, isn’t he?”
Now how did she know that? I hadn’t told her.
“He is. But I’m sure he’s not like Akira.”
“That’s only because you’re in love with him,” Kiku pointed out bluntly. “If Akira brought him here to the Floating World, he had a reason. You know Akira’s in deep trouble, don’t you?”
I gawped at her in amazement. Akira, in trouble? I almost laughed. “No. He can’t be. He owns half of the Floating World. And look at the cash he gave me to buy trinkets for the girls from Mori-san. He’s just the same, I promise you.”
Kiku pursed her lips. Ichiro made a little gru
mbling noise in his sleep, and we both stared at him anxiously for a second before Kiku spoke.
“He might seem the same, but he’s not.” Even Kiku was speaking quietly now. “Listen to me, Mineko. Since I married Mori-san, he’s gone up in the world. I told you he’d opened another shop?” I nodded. “Not just that. He’s started exporting his goods directly to the gaijin in America and England. They’re mad for his gold and jade, can’t get enough. And that way he earns solid money for it. There’s none of this nonsense about trading his things for opium from the gaijin and then having all the problems of selling the opium on to the yakuza. He’s learned to speak very good English, although he takes care never to let the gaijin know. Because of that, they are very indiscrete in front of him. They talk freely, often about Akira.” Her face clouded and I held my breath. “They used to do much trade with Akira. He sold them porcelain and silk, and in return they gave him opium.”
I nodded. Of course they did. That was the way all trade with the gaijin went, except in the case of Mori-san, it appeared. The exchange was very satisfactory for both sides, especially as the use of opium within Japan was, at least in theory, strictly controlled by the authorities. The uncontrolled opium earned through trade was all the more valuable for it.
“You don’t understand,” Kiku persisted. “A few years ago, it was profitable for everybody. Then the yakuza began to fall out amongst themselves. Akira used to be interested mainly in courtesans and us girls in the Hidden House. He also used to collect sizeable money from persuading most of the merchants in Edo that they needed his protection. In those areas, Akira was king. He was an immensely rich man. He needed never to look beyond what he had. But he was also greedy. He understood very quickly how much money could be made out of importing opium. But he chose to forget that other yakuza gangs had always traded in opium as their main interest, and those yakuza became more and more angry with him.”