The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,29

made a few groaning noises, and Setsuko thanked Fiona in her quiet, gentle voice.

Fiona scrolled back through the shots she’d taken. Plenty of cherry blossom. That’s what people would expect to see in an exhibition on Japan. Stuff Gabe Burnett! It was a good job she’d come today. Like Setsuko said, an overnight storm could rip the blossom away from the trees and she might not get the chance again. And at least she knew she could manage by herself if he continued to be elusive. She didn’t need Gabe.

Chapter 7

Gabe woke solo in bed with a hangover and the taste of regret in his mouth. All of which was bad enough without an ultra-polite text from Haruka requesting a phone call that pinged onto his mobile the moment he opened bleary eyes. Polite was not good. Polite meant restrained anger. Disapproval. Disappointment. She couldn’t possibly know he’d played hooky yesterday. Or maybe she could. She seemed to have a sixth sense about these things and she’d never approved of Yumi, even less so since she’d got married.

He shook his head and cleared away the empty bottle and wine glasses from the table in the lounge. The view from the balcony in the kitchen out over the city was blurred this morning and his head hurt like it should. He deserved it. Haruka was right; he should ignore Yumi’s texts. And yesterday he shouldn’t have called her. And he shouldn’t have offered to take her to dinner when he heard she was in Tokyo shopping, and he definitely shouldn’t have brought her here for a night cap.

He closed his eyes picturing her slim body, draped in the jade-green silk dress, curled up on his sofa, her clever cat eyes watching him over the wine glass like prey. Except at the end of the evening she hadn’t pounced; a text had brought her back into line and with a satisfied smile and a feline sway of hips she turned her tail on him, pecked him on the cheek, before sauntering to the lift and to the waiting cab below without a backward glance while on the phone to her husband. Why did he keep doing this? Habit? When he’d first met Yumi, it had been her vulnerability and an overriding desire to protect her that had drawn him to her. It had made him feel that he could be a better person. He’d had too many fleeting relationships in London that meant nothing, and with Yumi he’d felt that she needed him and that he could look after her. It had also helped that out of a score of suitors, she’d chosen him. Together their careers had blossomed and they’d become the golden couple of both London and Tokyo media circles. He picked up his ringing phone, his arm heavy with a bone-deep weariness that seemed a constant companion.

‘Haruka san,’ he tried to sound cheerful. ‘You wanted me.’

She let loose a torrent of Japanese; he might not have understood it all but he got the gist. She was furious with him. He was letting everyone down. He was supposed to be mentoring Fiona – he noticed with a sinking heart that she was no longer ‘the English girl’. Haruka had taken her under her wing. Now there was no getting out of his duties.

‘I’ll be there within the hour. Yes, I’ll take her to the studio today. Yes, Haruka. And tomorrow I will take her into Tokyo.’

***

Fiona didn’t seem particularly pleased to see him. In fact, she looked a little embarrassed and resigned, as if she knew she was the consolation prize, and when they arrived at the studio door, her shoulders were so hunched her neck had disappeared. For the second time, she reminded him of a turtle seeking refuge in its shell.

The studio and his apartment he rented from the Kobashis was only a few streets away from the teashop. Haruka owned this building and tended to things when he was away, including the dust and the bills. When he was here, she rarely intruded and never without a specific invitation, for which he was very grateful. This was his private space. A place where he could brood and take refuge from the rest of the world.

He bristled slightly as Fiona followed him up the stairs, irritated that he would have to share the space today. Then, mindful of Haruka’s scold and her husband’s honour, he forced himself to at least try and be pleasant to the poor girl.