The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,16

I didn’t always want to keep the old ways. Of course, now I’m older, I’m very glad that my mother keeps the traditions alive, so I feel I’m a good balance between East and West.’

‘She’s training to be a master of tea, too,’ announced Haruka, giving her daughter a proud glance.

‘Yeah, it is kinda cool,’ said Mayu, also sending her mother a cheeky grin. ‘Especially when she gets all dressed up.’

‘What, in a kimono? I wasn’t sure if I’d see people wearing them or not? I was sort of hoping I might,’ confessed Fiona. Maybe it was the warmth of the kotatsu, the calm acceptance of the three women or the bliss of feeling safe again but she felt unusually at ease.

‘These days people tend to wear them for special events, like weddings, a traditional tea ceremony, or at coming of age ceremonies.’

‘The one Grandma wears for the tea ceremony is really cool,’ said Mayu.

Haruka bowed her head. ‘It was my soba’s, my grandmother’s, and is very heavy silk, rich with gold threads. It is very beautiful.’

‘I’d love to see that one day while I’m here,’ said Fiona immediately thinking that she could write a really interesting blog post. ‘And learn how you put them on and all the different components.’

Haruka clapped her hands. ‘You can try one. I have several, including my cousin’s. She was a tall woman. Tall for Japanese.’

‘That would be wonderful.’

‘Now.’ Mayu clapped her hands. ‘Let’s do it now.’

‘Oh, but I’m still wet …’ Fiona tried to refuse but Haruka had nimbly leapt to her feet and was whisking her way through the shoji screens. She returned in seconds, her arms billowing full of rich silk fabric, her dark head peeping over the top and her eyes twinkling full of mischief.

Setsuko jumped up and clapped her hands. ‘Oh, yes.’

Fiona started to feel a little apprehensive as Mayu hauled her to her feet and, while she was still wobbling and trying to gain her balance, started plucking at her clothes like a determined bird pecking at seed. ‘Take this off,’ she tugged at Fiona’s jumper.

Setsuko picked a garment from the pile in her mother’s arms. ‘First the under layer.’ She held out a white cotton T-shaped piece of fabric. ‘The hadujaban.’

The next thing Fiona knew was that Mayu had pulled off her jumper and Setsuko was guiding her arms into the wide square sleeves and threading the ties through holes under her arms while Haruka watched, her head bobbing up and down in approval.

Next came the sumptuous kimono which wasn’t as flimsy and lightweight as it first appeared because the gorgeous bright red silk was lined with a slightly heavier fabric. Following more of Setsuko’s gentle commands, she held out her arms on either side. With careful ceremony, Setsuko posted her arms through the voluminous sleeves as Haruka and May looked on, Haruka beaming with quiet pride.

‘This is beautiful,’ said Fiona, taking a quick moment to stroke one of the intricately embroidered motifs adorning the fabric: a black-headed, long-necked bird pictured in full flight with white frilled wings and long legs trailing gracefully beneath a black tail.

‘A crane,’ said Haruka.

‘They are very lucky in Japanese culture; in folk tales they lived for a thousand years,’ explained Setsuko, smoothing the fabric across Fiona’s chest before taking the front edges of the robe and wrapping them tightly across her body. ‘Always left to right,’ she said tugging the fabric tighter. ‘The other way for the dead.’

Haruka stepped forward with the wide cream band that Fiona recognised as the sash that went around the middle. ‘What’s it called?’ she asked, reaching out a hand to touch the cream silk.

‘It’s an obi,’ said Haruka handing it with both hands to her daughter.

For once Fiona didn’t mind being the centre of attention as Setsuko smiled up at her, wrapping the wide bulky sash around her middle. The Japanese woman pointed out the little stiffening rods set into the fabric to give the large bow at the back its shape as she tied it in place.

Finally, a little like a princess, she waited as Setsuko fitted white socks on to each foot and helped her step into the geta, the traditional wooden sandals with their thick soles.

Mayu darted forward shaking her head. ‘Your hair.’

Standing on one of the chairs and ignoring Haruka’s quick frown, she swept Fiona’s strawberry blonde hair back from her face and scooped her long plait up, coiling it into a bun. She then stuffed a bamboo comb into the