LITMIR.BIZ

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her face as if looking at her properly for the first time. It was impossible to hide or retreat, not when he was standing right beside her. ‘I’m not that insufferable, you know. You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.’ His eyes studied hers and for a moment she imagined there was more to what he was saying. There had been a period when his photo had appeared in the papers almost as much as his own photographs were featured. Young models had been his favourite props.

      ‘I rarely read the papers. My friend Kate used to work in PR and she says most of it is made up, and my friend Avril works in breakfast TV and usually knows the truth behind the gossip.’

      ‘Sensible,’ he said. ‘So why Japan?’

      Maybe it was the approving look he gave her or the fact that he clearly had no recollection of her, but she drew out the little ivory netsuke from her pocket. ‘This.’

      He immediately put a finger out to stroke the smooth flank. ‘May I?’

      She handed it over. ‘It was my father’s. He died when I was a baby and I found it when I was six. I had no idea what it was until my granny told me. A netsuke. He bought it in an antique shop when he was a boy and had always wanted to go to Japan as a result. He never got there. When I heard about the competition …’ She shrugged as he gave it back to her. It settled with a reassuring thud in her pocket, a small lump nestled against her thigh.

      ‘Sentimental but nice. You’ll get a real flavour of the country in Tokyo.’ For a moment, his smile was wistful. ‘It’s a country of contrasts: flash, modern, innovative, ridiculously neon and technological, all of which resides alongside a deep appreciation and respect for art, culture, and tradition. I’ve never lived anywhere quite like it before.’

      ‘You live here?’

      ‘Between here and London.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be staying with the Kobashi family.’ Again there was that wry smile. ‘Professor Kobashi’s wife Haruka is lovely and rather interesting. She’s a master of tea.’

      Fiona straightened with sudden interest. ‘I love my tea. One of the things I really want to do is go to a tea ceremony, although I’ve no idea what it involves.’

      ‘Well you’ll be in the right place. She’s the expert. She and her daughter own a teashop where she holds ceremonies. They live above it.’

      ‘Really.’ Fiona’s eyes shone. One of her favourite possessions was a little pottery narrow-spouted teapot with a bamboo handle. She loved the delicacy and simplicity of the design that was as much functional as beautiful. Letting her guard down and forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to have met him before, she smiled warmly at him, straight into his grey eyes. He was still a very handsome man.

      ‘Hmm,’ said Gabe, stiffening and turning his head away as if she’d got a bit too close or something. His jaw hardened as he stared across the crowded platform.

      She pushed her hands into her pockets, one finger stroking the netsuke. His withdrawal had been subtle but definite. There was a hardness in her chest as if she’d swallowed a whole brick of wholemeal bread. Tall, gawky girls like her weren’t Gabe Burnett’s type but he didn’t need to make it quite so obvious. She knew he went for glossy, glamorous, pint-size brunettes who exuded confidence from every last pore. Before his move to Japan a few years ago, his love-life had been well documented in the tabloids.

      ‘If you like that sort of thing,’ he said dismissively glancing down at his watch. ‘All a bit tedious when you’ve seen it before. One for the tourists.’

      ‘Just as well I am a tourist,’ Fiona bit out, annoyed by his attitude.

      ‘Which reminds me, have you got your Japan Rail pass?’

      ‘Yes.’ The little she had managed to read up on before she came had recommended buying one in advance, and hers had been sent through with her plane tickets.

      Gabe didn’t say anything as the monorail glided into the station. When they boarded, Fiona turned to say something to Gabe, but even before he put his finger to his lips the hush of the carriage registered. She peered around. It appeared that in Japan people didn’t talk on the trains. Gabe had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through something, so she copied him and they spent the rest of the journey in rather convenient silence.

      They got off the monorail and dived into the melee of people as Gabe led them across the concourse through to a platform where they changed onto a train line.

      ‘This is the Yamanote line. You’ll use it a lot, so it’s worth familiarising yourself with it. It’s a circular line that stops at all the major city stations. We’re headed to Nippori. Professor Kobashi lives in a lovely traditional area called Yanaka.’

      ***

      After a crowded but silent journey they emerged into the pale sunlight of late afternoon nearly an hour later. Now the initial excitement of being here had faded, exhaustion had crept in to every limb and Fiona found it an effort to put one foot in front of the other as Gabe set a cracking pace along the street without even checking to see if she was following. At least he’d taken charge of her suitcase and was pushing it ahead of him like a man on a mission. A mission to rid himself of her, she surmised, watching his broad shoulders as he marched a few steps in front of her giving her the distinct impression he did not want to be here.

      She followed him, disliking the intense sensation of disorientation because she had absolutely no idea where they were in relation to the city. It gave her an uncomfortable and unnerving fear of having lost control. She was a very long way from home. The sixteen-hour flight cocooned in the close confines of the aircraft had cushioned her awareness of the true distance. Now the reality hit hard as she took in the unfamiliar architecture of the buildings, the strange roads signs, the huge multitude of overhead cables that you didn’t see at home, and the lamp posts which looked more like ornate bird boxes. It was like nowhere she’d ever been before. Although the street was wide, the houses came right up to the edge of the road with pots of plants around the doors as if to compensate for the lack of front garden. Everything seemed to be made from wood apart from the dark green tiled roofs that sloped down sharply to create a slight overhang.

      When she stopped to study the bamboo screens covering the windows, Gabe did pause and wait for her to catch up. ‘This is quite a traditional area. These houses are a couple of hundred years old.’

      ‘I love all the wood,’ she said, fascinated by the buildings even though they symbolised how far from home she was.

      ‘Sugi. Japanese cedar,’ he replied as he kept moving, still a few steps ahead of her.

      She glared at his back and picked up her stride to keep up with him as he veered off to the right, down another narrower street, and stopped to wait for her outside a shop front.

      With a smile, she stared up at the big wood-framed square window, a cross between a bay window at home and a balcony. Trailing jasmine surrounded the window which had a gorgeous but minimalist display of elegantly spouted teapots and beautifully glazed traditional teacups. Underneath the window were several big pots with leafy camellias with deep pink buds about to burst into bloom.

      ‘This is gorgeous,’ she blurted out, wishing her camera was to hand.

      ‘Be prepared to get used to it. This is Haruka’s teashop; she and Professor Kobashi live upstairs, which is where you’ll be staying.’

      Fiona clapped her hands in delight. ‘It’s so lovely.’ She took another moment to study the low tiled roof – curling up at the edges like sultan’s slippers – that jutted out above the window with its glossy green tiles.

      Inside the doorway, a flight of stairs led to the right into the teashop, while on the left was a wider porch area. Gabe immediately toed off his shoes and called out in Japanese. She caught the words ‘Haruka san’.

      ‘You speak Japanese?’

      He shook his head. ‘Basic greetings. The odd word. That’s all. You need to take your shoes off. The slippers

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