The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,20
jasmine, smoke and grass spilling from them. It was like a magician’s cave where blends of sorcery and magic were served up in the delicate tea pots, glazed in pale blues, greens and bronzes and the solid china cups that would fit perfectly in your hands.
Beyond the room, Setsuko was standing in a tiny, almost primitive kitchen, with a large frying-pan-sized ring full of glowing coals, atop which was a big copper kettle. Fiona had never seen anything like it and couldn’t imagine how Setsuko could work in such a tiny space although it was beautifully organised with everything in its place on the bamboo shelves. There wasn’t a single electric appliance apart from a rice steamer and the only other modern thing was a calculator next to a pot of bamboo and wood utensils.
Setsuko had laid a red lacquer tray with a matt black teapot with a curved bamboo handle and two cups glazed with turquoise around the rims fading to darker blue at the bottom, and once she’d poured boiling water into the teapot from the big copper kettle, she motioned for Fiona to follow her to one of the tables which looked out to the other side of the building and to a secret garden hidden by a canopy of green shrubbery.
As soon as she sat down, the weight seemed to lift from her shoulders and that abraded rawness inside that her mother always managed to stir up eased. Being here was like being in a private den, closed off from the rest of the world and the worries it carried with it. ‘This is lovely. It’s so …’ she couldn’t quite put it into words. Romantic, otherworldly, traditional.
Setsuko poured them each a cup of tea and handed one to Fiona.
‘It’s a place to think and to be. Or to talk and share.’
Fiona studied the pale green liquid, the steam bringing the scent of grass and pine. Share. That wasn’t something she did very much of.
‘One of my own blends,’ said Setsuko holding her cup in both hands and bowing to Fiona. ‘It contains kanayamidori and sayamakaori green teas.’
‘I love these … what do you call them?’ she indicated the handleless cups.
‘Chawan. Or matcha bowl.’
Setsuko stared down into her own tea, the picture of humility and respect, leaving the silence to stretch out between them. The peace of the room brought a mesmerising sense of calm. A smile crossed Fiona’s face.
‘It makes me want to tell you things.’
‘You do not have to tell me anything. I wanted to bring you peace.’
Fiona studied her demure hostess. ‘You’ve done that. Thank you.’
‘I know how it is to feel … troubled.’
‘You do?’ Fiona was surprised. Setsuko seemed to epitomise serenity.
With a gracious incline of her head, she smiled at Fiona’s disbelief.
‘When we first came back to Japan, I was a teenager. An American teenager. I hated my parents for taking me away from everything I knew. Japan was alien and different, although in some ways familiar. It confused me but rather than learn, I fought. I fought against everything. You think Mayu is rebellious …’ she laughed. ‘She is easy. It took me a long time to settle. To learn that this is home. To learn that the traditional ways bring their own peace and harmony. I made life very difficult for my mother.’
Fiona raised her eyebrows. Setsuko seemed so calm and gentle it was difficult to believe.
‘My mother is a remarkable woman. And very wise. She didn’t fight back. Not in obvious ways. She allowed herself to find her way back into the traditions and to share them with me. She never forced me to do anything or insist I followed the old ways and gradually I saw for myself that there was beauty and peace in them. Mayu complains that we make her go to the sakura, the cherry blossom, every year … but we never insist she comes. It is always her choice. And she always chooses to come. She pretends family is not so important but she loves her Jiji.’
Fiona took a sip of the fragrant tea. ‘Teenage years are difficult in every culture.’
‘I think so. We know so little of ourselves, we’re not yet us. But we think we are.’
‘That’s a good way of putting it.’ Fiona was struck by the thought. She’d placed far too much emphasis on a youthful mistake that should have been laughed off as exactly that.
They drank the rest of the tea in silence and a couple of times, Fiona