The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,28

I love it.’ The sweet-sour flavour burst on her tongue, tempered perfectly by the simple taste of the rice.

‘This is a very traditional snack. Some have salted salmon and others tuna and Japanese mayonnaise,’ explained Setsuko, offering the box to Mayu.

‘Jiji makes the best onigiri,’ said the girl, giving her grandmother a warm smile. ‘When I take them to school in my bento box, everyone wants to try them.’

Haruka nodded and her eyes wrinkled with satisfaction.

‘You make these,’ said Fiona looking at the rest of the rice ball in her hand.

‘I can teach you, Fiona san.’

‘That would be great. It would make a nice piece for my blog post and I could impress my friend Sophie who’s a cookery writer.’

‘You’re honoured,’ said Mayu. ‘This is a very old family recipe. Jiji never tells anyone.’

Haruka let out a chuckle and said something in rapid Japanese before turning to Fiona. ‘I will show you but the recipe … that stays in the family.’

Setsuko groaned. ‘She never shares it with anyone. Not even me.’

‘Traditions are best held by those who honour them,’ said Haruka with a mysterious wave of her hand.

After lunch, Setsuko and Haruka decided to take a stroll, while Fiona busied herself taking lots of photos of the trees, the picnicking families, and a pretty girl in a pale blue kimono holding a silk parasol. When she made her way back to the picnic rug, Mayu was absorbed in a video game on her phone and Fiona wasn’t sure she’d even noticed her absence. Loathe to sit down again, she took a couple of close ups of the blowsy pink flowers, tight shots of the frilly stamens inside and the love heart edges of the petals. Then she wandered to the edge of the path to try and get a picture of the trees lining the avenue like romantic sentries. She crouched, trying to get the long shot and all the jostling bodies and then spotted Haruka and Setsuko, arm in arm, their heads turned towards each other deep in conversation. The sight of the two of them in such harmony tugged hard at her heart strings. Mother and daughter. Setsuko was laughing and her mother was patting the forearm linked through hers. Fiona raised her camera and took the shot, a ping of regret making a little hole in heart. She couldn’t imagine ever strolling arm in arm with her mother. They walked at such different paces for a starter, her mother always walked with quick, angry bird hops, fierce but not really gaining ground. And conversation was never easy – her mother had too much to say about very little, to which, Fiona acknowledged with a wince, she often didn’t listen. Maybe she ought to make a bit more effort. Her mum was lonely and scared of what would happen when Fiona finally moved out. Her hypochondria was a symptom of her need to hang on to her daughter.

Fiona wondered what the two Japanese women were talking about, both of them absorbed in each other and seemingly oblivious of their beautiful surroundings, as she took another shot of Setsuko’s graceful hands describing something to her mother, noting the way the two of them walked hip to hip with careful matching steps. Celestial harmony, that’s what she should call the picture. The backdrop of a pink so pale it was almost white framed the two women perfectly, making it appear as if they’d emerged from a cloud.

‘Fiona san,’ Haruka bowed when the women returned. ‘What do you think of the sakura?’

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Have you taken lots of pictures?’ asked Setsuko nodding her head towards the camera.

Before Fiona could answer, Haruka interrupted. ‘I should like to have one with Mayu and Setsuko. The three generations with the sakura.’ She nodded towards the picnic blanket. ‘There.’

‘Yes mother,’ said Setsuko, sending a quick smile of apology to Fiona.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, smiling back and following Haruka who was bustling forward and haranguing Mayu, clearly about being on her phone. Fiona bit back her amusement as the older woman shooed and bullied her granddaughter into position before demanding Setsuko come and sit with them.

‘This. Take it like this.’ Haruka waved her hand to indicate that this was the desired pose. Even though it was stilted and wooden, with Mayu’s barely contained disgust and Setsuko’s silent apology, Fiona snapped away and was rewarded by Haruka’s regal nod at the end. She showed the women the series of shots through the viewfinder. Haruka harrumphed her approval, Mayu