The Little Teashop in Tokyo

by Julie Caplin

  What had he been saying? Ken’s hangers-on, that was it.

  ‘Nine times out of ten, the PR will rush over to remind us it’s all about the film.’ He scrolled through a few more pictures and … oh shit. Please don’t let her have seen that one. He thought he’d got rid of them all but no, like a hound dog following a scent, she spotted it.

  ‘You are going to delete that, aren’t you?’

  ‘What?’ His airy tone didn’t fool her and she wasn’t buying his attempt at nonchalance.

  ‘That picture. Of me.’

  ‘If you really want me to.’

  ‘I do.’ Surprised at her implacable tone, he turned to face her.

  ‘It’s a good shot.’

  She snorted. ‘Don’t be—’

  ‘Don’t be what?’

  ‘You’re being …’

  He frowned down at the picture. It wasn’t one of the best; he’d taken far better ones but there was nothing wrong with it.

  ‘Come on, out with it. Let me guess, you think your nose is a bit wonky or one eye is bigger than the other, or there’s a tiny pimple on your cheek?’

  Her mouth crimped shut and she’d done her usual warrior-princess, proud lift of her chin, refusing to look at him. He almost laughed while at the same time he was tempted to run a finger along the exposed skin on her throat. He felt the tightening in his groin. There was something about her, always had been, but clearly from her rigid pose and the body language screaming don’t come near me, he was top of her hate list at the moment.

  ‘You do realise every person I take pictures of wants me to allow for some imagined defect. Even Ken wanted me to make sure he didn’t have a double chin in any of his shots.’

  Puzzled, Gabe watched the convulsive swallow as her throat dipped. With a couple of mouse clicks he enlarged the image of her.

  ‘What’s wrong with this?’ The sun lit her glorious hair, her eyes were closed, those long limbs sprawled and elegant, and there was a faint smile on her face. A goddess guarding a secret, the keys of knowledge. In fact, ‘Goddess with a Secret’ is what he’d have called it.

  She turned tortured eyes to him.

  ‘I look ridiculous and I think you’re being mean.’

  ‘What? How?’ Was she even seeing the same picture?

  ‘I’m enormous, clumsy, and stupid. Bloody dwarfing the sofa.’

  ‘No, you aren’t.’ What the hell was she talking about? She was taller than the average woman but she certainly wasn’t big. She looked perfectly proportioned to him.

  ‘Statuesque, Amazonian … I’ve heard it all.’

  ‘More of a Viking with that hair, I’d say,’ he drawled, not wanting to give himself away.

  ‘What?’ She rounded on him, her eyes flashing, reminding him of exactly that. ‘So you do think I’m big.’

  ‘No, I think you’re perfect. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous in that picture and I think you’ve got a hang up that really isn’t merited.’ Unnecessarily harsh, but he was worried he might say something he ought not to.

  ‘A hang up,’ she said scornfully. ‘Easy for you to say.’

  Flummoxed, he didn’t know what to say next. The taut silence stretched out between them and he reached out a tentative hand to touch her shoulder. She didn’t move. The word ‘stoic’ came to mind when he examined her rigid profile.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll delete it now, if it means that much. Watch.’ He picked the image up and put it into the recycling bin, noting that she was carefully scanning the rest of the thumbnails.

  ‘There, done.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was tight and her fingers were clenched in a fist on her thigh. ‘I suppose you think I’m silly.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re silly at all. I think it’s a shame that you can’t see what I see.’

  ‘You’re in the minority, there.’ There was bitterness in her voice. ‘Ironic.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was always a thing at school. Fe-fi-fo-fum. Giant. It got worse after …’

  He waited, seeing that she was battling her emotions.

  ‘After I kissed you.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry,’ he said, although he wasn’t even sure what he was apologising for.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, was it? Evie saw us. Told everyone at school. And after that Fe-fi-fo-fum was a complete laughing stock. I left not long after.’

  ‘Oh my God, Fiona. I’m so—’

  She wheeled round, a flush of anger in her cheeks. ‘Why are you apologising? I kissed you. You didn’t ask me to. You seemed horrified.’

  The words sank in, along with an ocean of regret. At the sight of her pale, pinched face, he felt he owed her the truth.

  ‘I wasn’t horrified,’ he said slowly. ‘Well, I was, but only because I was your teacher and it was inappropriate. I was horrified at what I’d done.’

  ‘What you’d done?’ She screwed her face up in confusion.

  ‘Fi …’ He owed her the truth. ‘I flirted with you. All week. You were gorgeous. I was … girls were always interested. It was easy and you were … naïve. But I was your teacher, six years older. It was inappropriate and I shouldn’t have …’ Should he confess that he’d felt a connection? That even then her youthful enthusiasm had made him see things differently?

  Almost absently she touched her lips. ‘You mean … I didn’t imagine it?’

  He bit his lip and summoned up the courage to look her in the eye. ‘No. And if Evie hadn’t come around the corner, who knows where that kiss might have ended up?’

  Her eyes widened as the words hit. ‘You … you mean you really did …’

  ‘I kissed you back.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her mouth parted and for a second he couldn’t take his eyes from her lips. He’d kissed a lot of women but he still remembered that kiss, not just because of the shock factor – it had come out of nowhere, an enthusiastic, if amateur, faceplant – but underneath it all there’d been the fizz of attraction. And now he wanted to kiss her again, to slant his lips over that wide mouth … and he couldn’t because she deserved so much better.

  Chapter 17

  Gabe’s surprising revelation had shocked Fiona to the core and radically rewritten her historical foundations. She lay in bed reliving the moment, ten years falling away. Gabe had confirmed he had kissed her back. She hadn’t imagine those brief touches, the husky tone when he spoke to her or those meaningful eye meets. Although, it had been a game to him … But she could be excused for her naivety. He was so handsome, a hero in her eyes … and considerably more experienced. Even though it hadn’t meant much to him, she felt a thousand times lighter. He had kissed her back. He hadn’t been horrified.

  What would have happened if Evie hadn’t come careering around the corner?

  Nothing, she told herself, firmly imagining the embarrassment when they pulled apart. But he might have invited her out for a drink …

  And this way lies madness, she told herself. It was ancient history. A sliding-doors moment that was best left shut. Gabe was in love with Yumi, anyone could see that, and despite his nice comments about her, who would seriously choose big-boned Fiona over a tiny, delicate waif like that?

  Eventually she slept, grateful to wake to a sunny spring morning, although not to the three texts from her mother which she wearily responded to. Today she was going to the teashop to take some photos of Setsuko at work.

  Fiona stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed out the night’s tangles. She’d been in too much of a tizz to re-plait it before bed or to pay much attention to her usual routine which was why her mouth felt so fuzzy this morning; she hadn’t even cleaned her teeth. She examined her hair in her reflection. She had her dad’s colouring, although apparently he’d been more of a redhead with Irish ancestors. Her mother had commented many a time that she should be grateful she wasn’t a proper ginger but no one had ever said it was beautiful before. She tossed it over her shoulder and glared at herself, snatching up the brush to
part it into its usual three strands. She studied herself again in the mirror and dropped the skein of hair in her hand. It wouldn’t hurt to wear it loose, just for one day, and before she could change her mind, she hurried down to breakfast following the familiar smell of miso soup.

  ***

  ‘I’m going to miss this when I go home,’ she said to Haruka as she sat down for breakfast, inhaling the simple broth that she’d quickly become used to.

  ‘You take some back. Very easy to make.’ She grinned, suddenly mischievous. ‘Comes in packet.’

  Fiona laughed. ‘Even I can manage a packet, although I might stick to my toast and Marmite.’

  ‘Marmite?’

  ‘It’s a savoury spread that we put on bread. It’s very unique to Britain. I’ll send you some.’ Fiona realised as she said it that she was going to miss Haruka and Setsuko and their calm, quiet ways. She fingered her phone in her pocket which had been vibrating with new text messages since she sat down.

  ‘Thank you.’ Haruka bowed and Fiona bowed back, realising that too had become an automatic response, along with not pointing at things.

  ‘I would like to take some pictures of the garden.’ Maybe she should build a garden like Haruka’s at home, get her mother involved. It could be a joint project; it would bring them both solace.

  ‘I would be most honoured.’

  ‘Perhaps a few with you and Setsuko.’ She didn’t think she’d ever recapture the mother-daughter warmth of the picture she’d taken in the cherry blossom, but she’d like to take a picture of Haruka in her kimono in the dappled shade of the acers. A woman of mystery and wisdom. Fiona smiled at the image. ‘Yes, one of you in your kimono.’ She nodded to the traditional dress that Haruka was wearing in preparation for another tea ceremony later that morning.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes. That would be great,’ said Fiona surprised by Haruka’s alacrity. Setsuko hadn’t been keen on having her picture taken until Fiona had explained that they would be working shots rather than posed. The light today would be perfect and she could fit it in before the minibus arrived with the tourists. ‘I’ll grab my camera.’

  Haruka was the perfect model, pottering about in the garden, trimming the bonsai, sweeping up leaves, totally indifferent to Fiona’s camera and the frequent buzz of her phone. The shot of her, her slender slight frame bent over as she tended to one of her bonsai, mirrored by the bend in the trunk of the delicate acer beside her was perfect. Rather than fearing the exhibition, Fiona realised that she was now looking forward to it. She wanted people to see these pictures and share the joy she’d found in the immense variety of the country. She had a title in mind. People of Japan.

  ‘I must go prepare for the tea ceremony,’ said Haruka with one of her small neat bows.

  She paused, ‘Today … your hair, it is very beautiful in the sunshine.’ She leaned forward and stroked it with a fond smile. ‘You should wear it down more often. It brightens your eyes. Lifts the soul. It is the kintsugi of your soul, the golden glue that brings a pot back to its whole.’

  Fiona stared after her, a little spooked by the woman’s insight. Gabe’s revelation last night had mended something. A little part of her that had festered for far too long. She swung her long hair back off her shoulder. Kintsugi, golden glue. She liked that.

  Rather than return to the house, she stayed in the garden, sitting on the engawa, dangling her feet over the edge and listening to the water and the strains of music drifting over from the teashop.

  Which was where Gabe found her half an hour later. Without a word he sat down next to her, their legs dangling companionably together.

  ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Fine,’ she said warily, hoping he wasn’t going to bring things up again.

  ‘I got the pictures of Ken off and the picture desk is delighted with them. I thought you might want to know.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘They’re interested in me going to LA to take pictures of David Beckham.’ He actually sounded excited.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve not had a really big commission like that for a while. Thanks.’

  ‘Why are you thanking me?’

  ‘You made a difference.’

  ‘What, holding the light reflector at the right angle?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  She rolled her eyes at his silliness, relaxing a little. Friends would be good. If she could be friends with Gabe. She liked him a lot more now than she had when she arrived.

  ‘And I also came to tell you that Kaito has fixed up a trip to Mount Fuji for us. The day after tomorrow, which is good because the forecast for the next few days is sunny and bright. Otherwise the view of the peak can be shrouded in cloud. We’re going to stay near Lake Kawaguchiko, which is very scenic anyway, so you’ll get lots of shots there.’ Gabe was gabbling which was not a Gabe thing to do. It was rather endearing.

  ‘Brilliant. I don’t think I could get away with not having Fuji in the exhibition. It’s such an iconic landmark.’

  ‘And many times photographed. I’ll be interested to see the Hanning take on it.’

  She gave him a suspicious look.

  ‘I’m serious. You’ve got a good eye. You’ve always had good eye.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She rubbed at the knee of her jeans, knowing there was a subtext here and he was referring to last night’s conversation. A truce. And she was grateful for his subtle permission for the two of them to move on without having to say anything more.

  ‘I’ll pick you up the day after tomorrow. I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Pleased that he’d bothered to ask, she shook her head.

  ‘No, I promised Mayu I’d go to her Robot Restaurant and I want to take pictures of Setsuko in the shop. I’ve got plenty to do.’

  ‘Great. I’ll come here at nine; it’s about a two-hour train journey and you’ll need an overnight bag as Kaito’s arranged for us to stay for two nights in a hotel in Fujiyoshida, near the lake. It’s been a while since I’ve been out there. I’m quite looking forward to it. And now I’ve surprised myself by saying that.’

  ‘Goodness, are you ill?’ she asked, still getting used to the idea of a truce. Of moving on.

  ‘I think I might be,’ he grinned at her and she couldn’t help smiling back at him. ‘Don’t get used to it.’

  ‘I’m not planning to. I’m sure you’ll be back to your usual old curmudgeonly self very soon.’

  ‘Old? Less of the old. I’m only thirty-four, you know. Do you really think of me as that much older?’

  ‘No, not really. I feel older than my own mother and she can give you a good ten years.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Complaining of chest pains today. Eventually I told her to take some indigestion tablets.’

  ‘Harsh.’

  ‘She had an Indian takeaway last night. They never agree with her. She’s been texting me since seven o’clock this morning. I only twigged a little while ago.’

  She took her phone out of her pocket and sure enough there were two new texts. ‘What is she like?’

  ‘Persistent. You should ignore her.’

  ‘It’s not that easy. I’m her daughter.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not as if she’s particularly old or infirm.’

  ‘Gabe, I don’t want to get into that now.’

  ‘Okay. You left your hair loose. It’s lovely.’ Surprised by the abrupt comment, she blushed to the very roots of said lovely hair as he picked up a strand and rubbed it between his fingers and thumb. ‘In this light it’s like burnished bronze.’

  ‘Haruka said it was like gold. Kintsugi, she said.’

  Gabe raised an eyebrow and his eyes travelled over her face, a gentle smile touching his lips. ‘She has a way of saying things, knowing things. She’s … very special. Even though she’s a bossy old bat, I’m very fond of her. She … she saved me. Saved my body at least. My soul still needs work, according to her.
’

  ‘When you broke up with Yumi.’

  He winced. ‘Not my finest hour. But then, how many people deal well with public humiliation and absolute betrayal. By rights I should tell her she’s made her bed but I think she’s lonely and … I feel sorry for her. She’s so vulnerable. People think she’s a lot tougher than she really is. She says I’m the only one who really understands her. I guess I still feel responsible for her.’

  But that’s her husband’s job, thought Fiona, but as he stared off into the distance, her heart went out to him. He was the one who seemed lost and lonely. For some reason she put her hand down on his, instinctively wanting to offer comfort and her heart was gladdened when he turned his palm up and linked his fingers with hers.

  She didn’t know why he was holding her hand or why she was letting him but it felt nice. Part of her, broken for so long, had mended overnight.

  ‘I didn’t sleep with her,’ he said in a low voice infused with desperate urgency.

  ‘I know.’ She swallowed hard, shocked by the sudden hot, sweet release of relief.

  ‘She blows hot and cold but I know if I did … I’d hate myself even more.’

  At the pain in his voice, she squeezed his hand, feeling a lot older than him and wanting to put her arms around him. To tell him he deserved to be loved. But somehow she didn’t think he’d believe her.

  Chapter 18

  ‘God, I’m knackered,’ muttered Gabe with a huge yawn as they settled into their seats on the train to Fujiyoshida. ‘I was up half the night negotiating with The Sunday Times and organising the Beckham shoot. It’s a definite.’ He picked up his camera and removed it from the case, fiddling with a few buttons before setting it down on the seat beside him.