The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,100
playing around his lips as he beckoned her over and patted the seat next to him. ‘Come on, let’s see what we’ve got.’
Yumi gave an impatient huff. ‘So you’re going to work this afternoon.’
‘Yes,’ said Gabe patiently, ‘but only until four.’
‘And then you’ll take me to Albatross?’
‘And then I’ll take you to Albatross,’ he said with an indulgent smile as if appeasing a child.
Yumi still didn’t seem particularly satisfied. ‘I suppose I can go and do some shopping until then.’ She smoothed the fabric of her dress over her enviably tiny waist. Unless you studied her closely, Fiona decided, you would have thought her face devoid of expression but there was something there that reminded her of the portrait in the photographic museum, the one with Yumi in the white silk dress and the expression of inviolate triumph. It was there now in the tiny twist of her lips, the knowing look in her eyes.
‘I will see you later then.’ She snatched up her Mulberry bag and stalked out.
Her footsteps rang out on the wooden steps but Gabe gave nothing away. He held out his hand for the memory card. A sense of deflation hit Fiona. He might have said he wanted to see her again in London but he was still tied to Yumi and nothing was going to break that bond.
‘Do you want a coffee or anything?’ he asked, loading the photos, the thumbnails of which were flicking onto the screen one by one like little soldiers reporting for duty in strict formation.
‘Yes, shall I help myself?’ she asked, regretting the stiffness in her voice.
He lifted his head from the screen and reached out a hand to pull her nearer. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t know she was in Tokyo. She just dropped in.’
‘No, of course not.’ Although she tried to sound blasé, she knew her smile was wooden. Making a fuss, which wasn’t her style anyway, would make her seem petty and demanding.
‘It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.’ He rose and took her into his arms, his fingers rubbing up and down her upper arm which was actually quite irritating, as if she needed placating. ‘I’m only taking her out for a drink and I won’t be long. You said you wanted to get some more pictures of Setsuko and the teashop. I’ll be back before dinner. Her husband’s away again and she’s lonely. She hasn’t got anyone else.’ She detected a wariness in his tone as if he was unsure how she was going to react. ‘I could text you when we’re done and meet you back here.’
She studied his face. He genuinely believed what he was saying, and she wondered if he even heard how it sounded.
Leftovers, she thought. It would always be leftovers with Gabe.
‘No, not at all,’ she said with false brightness. What was the point in making a fuss? It would be churlish and fruitless. He wasn’t hers and never would be. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to do some work here on the album I want to put together for Haruka and Setsuko.’
‘That’s a lovely idea; you can print the pictures off and I have a couple of presentation albums you can have.’ He rose and pulled two from a shelf above his head and laid them on the desk. ‘I always keep a stock of them in, as they’re sometimes useful for presenting client work.’
‘Thank you. That’s great.’ She went over to the machine and slipped a sidelong glance at him as she went, sceptical of his absorption with the contents of the screen. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’ He pushed his chair over to the other desk and grabbed a notepad. ‘Pen and paper still works best when noting down the image numbers.’
With a nod she moved towards the kitchenette and caught her foot in the handle of his overnight back which had been dumped on the floor. Something went spinning across the floor. Damn, his phone. Its rapid flight was stopped by the little fridge in the corner.
‘Sorry,’ she said, hurrying to retrieve the phone that was now wedged under the fridge, praying she hadn’t broken it.
‘What?’ Gabe was still absorbed in copying something down on the notepad and she crossed her fingers. Please don’t let it have broken.
It hadn’t, which was just as well, because it wasn’t Gabe’s phone.
As soon as she picked it up, the familiar wallpaper of the opera house in Copenhagen flashed on the screen.