The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,23

keen to learn more about Japanese culture.

‘Shibui is simplicity, modesty, naturalness, everydayness … you are you. You don’t try to be something that you’re not. Subdued in some ways but not others.’ She smiled. ‘Today when you were talking I saw the flash of fire in your eyes, especially when you talked about Gabe. You are understated but your hair has subtle beauty. You are very well mannered. Shibui is all of these things.’

Fiona smiled. ‘Well, I’m glad about that. My mother would be pleased to hear that I’m well mannered.’

‘That is why my mother liked you straight away. You are refined. You listen and accord respect. You are interested.’

‘Who wouldn’t be? Your country is fascinating. This …’ she waved her hand, indicating the teashop, ‘it’s such a contrast to the Tokyo I saw yesterday.’

Setsuko smiled. ‘And there is so much more to see.’

Fiona felt her heart suddenly blossom, like a flower blooming from bud. ‘There is.’ She beamed at the other woman realising that she wanted to know more, more about the city, the culture, the art … God, there was just so much. ‘Thank you, Setsuko. You’ve opened my eyes this morning.’

Chapter 5

Haruka fussed over her when she returned to the house, leaving Setsuko in the teashop laying out an exquisitely presented breakfast of tiny square dishes filled with pickled vegetables and salad vegetables, along with a small bowl of steaming miso soup and a little bowl of steamed rice.

For a moment, Fiona examined the perfect presentation and the attention to detail, amazed by the work that had gone into breakfast. This wasn’t ‘grab a bowl of cereal by the sink in the morning’. With all the little bowls and dishes on the red, black, and gold lacquer tray, she could have been in a restaurant and Haruka had clearly made a huge effort.

‘Thank you,’ she said to her hostess, biting her lip, a little uncertain where to start. Immediately Haruka patted her on the arm and stepped forward, sitting down opposite her, as ever a generous and kind hostess.

‘This is miso soup. Very good for starting the day. Gentle on your stomach. Warming for the body. This is pickled ginger and here is a salad.’

‘It smells good,’ said Fiona a little reluctantly. Soup for breakfast, that was a new one, but it was well known that the Japanese were a long-lived nation and all the women Fiona had seen were exceptionally trim. The diet here was famed for being healthy and nutritionally well balanced, so who was she to argue. Copying her hostess, she picked up the bowl and took a careful sip of the hot soup as Haruka watched her like a mother anticipating her child’s first steps.

‘Mmm,’ she said, surprised by the clean, bright flavour. ‘This is delicious.’ She took another eager mouthful of the fragrant soup, thinking that she could get used to eating like this. Picking up the chopsticks, she attempted to dig into the bowl of rice to take a scoop and Haruka tsked as she dropped half of it on the table.

‘Sorry,’ said Fiona.

‘Like this.’ Once again Haruka showed her, guiding her fingers and thumb onto the wooden sticks, showing Fiona how to hold them properly and pushed the bowl into her hands and towards her mouth. It reminded her of Gabe yesterday and that unwelcome flutter of sensation when he’d held her hand.

‘Ah, that’s much easier,’ said Fiona, pushing Gabe out of her head and taking a mouthful of the cool sticky rice. The consistency was slightly different to that at home but it had a freshness and a nuttier flavour. The combination of the rice, the soup, and the pickled ginger was a marriage of light, sharp and clean and as unfamiliar as it was, Fiona enjoyed every mouthful. Perhaps, thanks to her early morning tea with Setsuko, she was far more open to trying new things.

To finish, Haruka brought out a mouth-watering shallow plate of beautifully arranged fruit. There were slices of juicy mandarin, carefully peeled so there wasn’t a speck of white pith, sliced love hearts of bright red strawberries, which looked too good to eat, and translucent thin sections of honeydew melon. ‘This looks too good to disturb.’

‘No, no. You must. It is fresh from the market today.’

Haruka beamed at her as she sighed over the sweetness of the strawberries and the tang of the mandarins.

‘Thank you, that was a lovely breakfast. I usually just have toast and cereal, neither of which I think are very