‘You have a meeting with the mayor in twenty minutes,’ I interpreted from across the room.
‘What! You didn’t tell me that! Shit! I have a present for him, but it’s at home. I have to go home. Now!’ Rachel stood up. She looked about to stamp her feet and throw a tantrum.
Mr Horrii stepped back, his face drained of colour. ‘Ah … but go home now no time. Meeting is twenty minute after. Go to Rachel’s house and come back, thirty minutes.’ He looked close to panic. Keeping the mayor waiting would earn him a severe telling-off from the education superintendent.
‘No,’ said Rachel. ‘I want to go home. I want to get the present.’
Mr Horrii’s white face turned green. He bowed his head and raced across to Mr Smiles’ desk. Some frantic whispering ensued and Mr Smiles nodded sagely.
Mr Horrii started striding towards the door. ‘Come. We go now.’
After they had left Magnum eyed me thoughtfully. ‘So,’ he began, ‘will you and Ms Rachel become married? Do you think you could be a good couple?’
I shook my head.
He laughed heartily and his eyes twinkled. ‘I don’t think so either.’
Minutes later the education superintendent appeared from his office. ‘Where is Rachel?’ he demanded angrily.
I hid behind my newspaper.
‘She has gone to fetch her presents for the mayor,’ Mr Smiles said quickly. Mr Smiles’ senior rank in the office made him less likely to receive a public telling-off.
‘Mr Horrii is driving her,’ he added.
‘WHAT!’ the superintendent thundered. ‘Why did he do that? They’ll be late now. This is unthinkable. Why is he doing this? I want to speak to him the second he returns.’
The phone rang two minutes later. Mr Smiles answered and nodded gravely. ‘They are stuck in traffic,’ he announced as he hung up the phone. ‘They will be twenty more minutes.’
Everyone gasped – Mr Horrii was doomed. I pictured him sitting in the traffic jam sweltering as Rachel pouted and frowned in the seat beside him. For the first time ever, I started to feel a little sorry for Mr Horrii.
Mr Horrii and his frosty passenger finally returned, bedraggled and sweaty. Mr Horrii’s face was white: he knew he was in trouble.
The superintendent stormed out of his office, yelled several angry words at Mr Horrii, and strode off to the mayor’s office. Rachel and Mr Horrii followed slowly behind.
‘Ah, Mr Hamish, can you help please?’ Mr Horrii looked frantic. ‘Can you help translate during the meeting?’
‘Sure,’ I smiled.
Mr Kitahashi, the mayor, was in typically cheerful mood. He smiled at me and announced what a success the previous year’s danjiri festival had been. ‘Mr Hamish is a Shiraki fan,’ he said gleefully.
The superintendent frowned. Rachel pouted. Mr Horrii sweated.
I smiled and thanked Mr Kitahashi again for showing me around during the festival. He smiled and turned to Rachel. ‘And how are you? Do you enjoy Japan? How is your first impression of our town?’
We were seated in the dark leather armchairs in his formal reception room. Rachel shrugged. Her lips protruded into her trademark pout. ‘I dunno. It’s all right. It’s too hot.’
Mr Kitahashi’s smile turned to confusion. He did not understand Rachel’s comment, but her attitude spoke volumes. He turned to me expectantly.
‘Rachel likes Kanan Town,’ I lied. ‘She is finding the heat a little difficult.’
Mr Kitahashi’s smile returned. ‘Ah yes, Mr Hamish, you found the heat difficult too, didn’t you?’
After we had chatted for several minutes, he attempted to engage Rachel in conversation again. ‘So Ms Rachel, are you looking forward to teaching at the elementary schools?’
‘I guess. Will they have air-conditioning?’
I translated as best I could. Mr Kitahashi nodded understandingly. ‘Sadly, the elementary schools do not have air-conditioning yet.’
Rachel’s pout vanished. She now looked angry.
‘So,’ Mr Kitahashi began hesitantly, ’tell me about your country, Ms Rachel. Do you have hot summers like this?’
Rachel murmured something under her breath. I translated. ‘England is not as hot as this.’
‘How about food – what food do you like?’
‘Humph.’ Rachel stared blankly at the mayor.
‘Rachel is a vegetarian,’ I answered on her behalf.
‘Tell me about your family then,’ Mr Kitahashi asked politely.
Rachel looked cranky: this relentless interrogation was upsetting her fragile patience. ‘Father, mother, sister,’ she mumbled.
The normally chatty Mr Kitahashi seemed to run out of conversation topics. The meeting was over.
Rachel’s day had just started: she still had the rest of the Board of Education to impress. I snuck off to lunch and returned from a peaceful stroll to the convenience store to find Rachel and Mr Smiles in deep concentration at the office internet terminal. Rachel was pouting more than usual, and Mr Smiles was looking intently at the screen.
‘Oi!’ she yelled at me the second I entered the room. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
Her voice sounded ominous. ‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been trying to download a tax form, but this stupid computer won’t work.’
Mr Smiles tried calming her with a comedy routine. ‘Computer is no good,’ he said happily, as he mimed a blind man trying to use a computer.
I laughed.
Magnum laughed.
Mr Smiles repeated his routine a second time, and pretended to strangle himself in frustration.
Rachel exploded. ‘It’s not funny!’ she thundered. She leapt to her feet, thumped her fists on the computer desk and stormed out of the office.
Mr Smiles stopped smiling. His face turned red and he went and sat down at his desk. A silent tension descended on the office. Rachel had just managed to offend the happiest man in Japan.
Displaying anger or strong emotions is social suicide in Japan, and Rachel had just put herself irreversibly offside with her employers. I knew she would never be truly welcomed and accepted by staff within the town hall.
Unfortunately, distancing myself from Rachel Brown was now going to be very difficult. The Board of Education staff regarded her as a ticking time bomb, and were unsure how to deal with her temper and belligerent attitude. I was therefore called upon to act as a go-between and to assist Rachel adjust to her new surroundings.
As well as helping her learn how to shop at the local supermarket, I was asked by Mr Horrii to take her to the Kanan Town summer festival the following Saturday evening. Stalls selling savoury pancakes and octopus balls would be set up along the banks of the fishing pond next to the town hall, and most of the town’s teenage inhabitants would turn out to mix, mingle and watch a large fireworks display above the pond. It was a good chance to meet and socialise with students.
I invited Rachel to accompany me and she grudgingly accepted. At six o’clock she arrived at my apartment as planned, expecting to catch a bus to the festival. ‘No, no. Buses don’t run on Saturday night,’ I lied. ‘We’re going to cycle. Don’t worry, I have three bicycles and it’s a lovely warm evening – perfect cycling weather.’
‘I can’t ride a bike,’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve never ridden a bike in my life.’
I was dumbfounded. Rachel’s sheltered upbringing was becoming more and more tiresome. I refused to accept her excuses; it would do her good to try something new. She sheepishly mounted a bicycle, teetered and wobbled around on the footpath, and eventually announced she was ready to go.
I had chosen an easy backstreet route that involved no traffic or steep slopes. Rachel rode slowly and unsurely, and several times we had to stop when she became too scared to continue. Eventually, though, we arrived at the festival ground to a swarm of greetings. Rachel seemed unsure how to respond. A smile usually helps, but sadly she seemed unable to master even this simple universal greeting.
The next day, Sunday, I was woken at eight by Mrs Oki. She had accidentally dialled my number and had no reason for calling. I stumbled back to bed and was just getting back to sleep when the phone rang a second time. It was Rachel.
‘I need help buying a tank for my fish,’ she demanded. She had won a goldfish at the festival.
I told her I was sleeping.
‘I need a fish tank,’ she repeated.
I told her I would meet her at the supermarket in an hour and went back to bed.
The purchase of the fish tank took an hour and a half. By the time she made her decision I was bored and irritable. I carried the tank back to her apartment, announced I was busy for the rest of the weekend, and returned home.
I called my English friend Blake and complained at great length about Rachel and her petulant behaviour.
‘She’s from Northumbria, eh?’ he said thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘Well, that explains it. She’s a hillbilly. Northumbria is England’s hillbilly land. She’s probably never left her village in her life. Her parents are probably cousins. Bad luck, my friend, you’ve got yourself a hillbilly for a neighbour.’
I thanked Blake for his wise words and hung up.
I was determined to find a way to rid myself of Rachel’s company. I had not spent eight years of my life studying Japanese and then travelling to Japan only to spend my days babysitting a rude spoilt English brat. I was damned if I was going to carry any more goldfish for her, or hold her hand while she looked for baked potatoes at the supermarket.
Unfortunately, though, Mr Horrii had insisted that Rachel and I spend the remainder of the summer holidays working at the town hall, preparing Rachel’s teaching curriculum. Two weeks of summer holidays remained before I could escape to the solace of Junior High.
I grimaced. Mr Doi and Mr Hioki would be waiting for me there.
I racked my brain for ways I could avoid going into the Board of Education every day with Rachel, while not using up any of my precious paid leave. As luck would have it, Kimi from the town magazine office called later that night. Kimi was very worried because a typhoon was coming and was forecast to strike Osaka the next morning. She recommended that I stay away from work the following day as it was much too dangerous to go outdoors.
The next morning I called the office and said I was too scared to leave my apartment. I invited Justin around and we spent the morning playing darts on my balcony. I had spent the previous few weeks adorning the balcony with pot plants and decorating it with fairy lights. It was now a green oasis where I could lounge eating ice-cream and admiring the view of Jinaimachi.
The typhoon was very feeble. I’d seen worse wind on a normal day in Christchurch. However, I had managed to get out of work and enjoy a day away from Rachel.
That night I was in bed, trying to nod off to sleep, when the phone rang. I checked my clock: 10.45. I stumbled out of bed. A whiney female English accent was on the other end.
‘Hamish – there’s something in my bathroom.’
I prayed it was a tiger or a lion.
‘It’s some sort of insect. It’s long and thin and looks like a stick. What should I do?’
I told her that it was late and I was trying to sleep.
She didn’t apologise. Would I come round and remove the insect at once. I noticed her complete inability to use the word ‘please’.
I told her to get a magazine, roll it up and squash the creature. Then I hung up the phone and turned it off at the wall.
The next day I decided to push my luck a little further by not going into the Board of Education office for the second day in a row. I called Mr Horrii and suggested that I be given the morning off to fill out an application form for a Japanese examination in December. He accepted this dubiously; I could hear the suspicion in his voice.
At noon my cellphone rang. Mr Horrii sheepishly asked if I had finished my exam application. I hummed and haahed guiltily. ‘I need another hour or so.’
‘Ahhh … we need you to come into the office as soon as you can.’
When I arrived at the office less than an hour later, Mr Horrii looked shifty. ‘Rachel wanted to see you.’ He looked at his shoes.
Rachel was sitting sullenly in the corner. She pouted as I approached. ‘I need you to help colour in these activity posters,’ she demanded.
Rachel was having her revenge for my refusal to help slay her stick insect. I was now forced to spend the afternoon colouring in pictures of cartoon animals. Rachel’s pout curled into a sly smile.
I seethed with anger as I cycled home at the end of the day. I would need to come up with an ingenious plan to get myself away from the office for the next two weeks.
I refused to use up my entire year’s allowance of paid leave, and was convinced I could create some sort of scenario that would fob off the ever-sceptical Mr Horrii. I would need to think carefully, though, and my story would have to be suitably crafty. I would need to make myself completely uncontactable.
I took a long route home through the paddy-fields to clear my head.
I passed an old temple, and a cemetery on a hill.
I paused for a moment and stopped in my tracks.
I looked back at the temple.
A thought flashed in my mind.
My lips curled into a smile.
Eureka! I had just devised a winning plan.
Early the next morning I cycled furiously to the Board of Education office. Rachel would still be twenty minutes away on her bus. The staff were already at their desks. I sighed with relief: so far my plan was on track.
The men had started to gather on the balcony for their morning cigarette. They welcomed me happily. Mr Smiles mimed a sleepy person and rubbed his eyes. Mr Fujimoto smiled. Magnum asked me if I wanted a cigarette.
Mr Horrii eyed me suspiciously. Why was I at work so early?
I tried to appear as sincere and truthful as I could. ‘Mr Horrii,’ I began, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, ‘it was such lovely weather last night that I went for a bike ride in the countryside. I was using one of the town’s tourist pamphlets as a map so I could visit some of the local temples and archaeological sites.’
Mr Smiles clapped his hands. ‘Oh, excellent, excellent. Where did you go?’
Everyone was listening. My plan was working.
‘Yes, but I got lost in the rice paddies. I couldn’t understand some of the Japanese characters on the map.’
Mr Smiles was horrified. ‘Oh, my. Are you okay?’
I smiled weakly. ‘Yes, yes, I found my way home eventually.’
Mr Smiles and Mr Fujimoto breathed audible sighs of relief.
Mr Horrii eyed me suspiciously.
I paused for dramatic effect. ‘And so I had an idea. What this town needs is English maps. Not just English maps, but also English tourism pamphlets – explanations in English about all the great tourist attractions.’
Everyone gasped. I was a genius.
‘So,’ I looked at Mr Horrii carefully, ‘I was hoping to spend the next two weeks visiting all the temples and prehistoric tomb sites around Kanan Town, drawing an easy-to-follow map in English and writing up English pamphlets.’
Mr Smiles cheered. Mr Fujimoto cheered.
Mr Horrii looked sceptical. It was up to him, as my supervisor, to authorise my proposal.
I looked at him pleadingly. I was well aware he could be jealous and resent my time away from the office, so I had chosen my audience carefully. Mr Smiles and Mr Fujimoto both outranked Mr Horrii, and to disagree with them would cause him a severe loss of face.
‘That’s a brilliant idea.’ A man with fluffy hair piped up enthusiastically.
I smiled.
‘Yes, that’s a brilliant idea,’ the fluffy-haired man continued. ‘That’s just what the local prehistoric tombs need. I’ve wanted to produce English pamphlets about them for ages.’
Mr Akai was the curator of Kanan Town’s kofun, or prehistoric tombs.
Everyone looked at Mr Horrii. He shuffled his feet. ‘Yes, it sounds like a good idea,’ he said at length. ‘So you will spend the rest of the summer holidays doing this?’
‘I think so,’ I said cautiously. ‘I’m not sure how long it will take. I will need to visit each of the sites so that I can appreciate them properly. Then I will need to write up the pamphlets. This will take much time.’
‘So you will not come to the office every day?’ He looked slightly peeved.
‘No, but I will visit when I can.’
Mr Akai interrupted us, conveniently ending my conversation with Mr Horrii. ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting a handful of pamphlets towards me, ‘these are the current Japanese pamphlets about the tombs and temples of Kanan Town. Maybe these will help.’
I thanked him profusely. ‘Well, I best get started,’ I said. ‘I’m going to visit the local temple first.’
The staff smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. I was a hero.
‘Do you want to wait for a while?’ Mr Horrii asked hopefully. ‘Rachel will be here soon. You can see if she wants to help.’
‘No, I think I need to get started as soon as I can,’ I said adamantly. ‘I want to get my cycling done before the midday heat. Plus, Rachel can’t ride a bike or speak Japanese. I don’t think she can be of any assistance.
‘I’m afraid that I will be out of cellphone range while I’m cycling in the rice paddies, so don’t be concerned if you can’t contact me.’
Mr Smiles, Mr Fujimoto and Mr Akai nodded understandingly. ‘Yes, you must take care in the midday heat,’ they urged. ‘Do not push yourself too hard.’
I floated out of the office and started cycling home. I noticed Rachel’s bus stopping in the distance and could see her sweltering in the heat as she started to walk down the busy main road. Keeping my head down, I zipped away along my secret rice-paddy track.
I decided to take heed of the advice about avoiding the midday heat, and met up with Justin and Matt in downtown Osaka. That evening I translated the Japanese pamphlets and maps into correct and informative English. My two-week project had been completed in two hours, and I was now free as a bird.
Under the Osakan Sun Page 16