The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,30

It was one day, for goodness’ sake. Had he really turned into that much of a misery? He led the way into the main room, a deliberately minimalist, wide-open, airy space so that visitors, when there were any, focused on the handful of pictures on the wall. Five in total. Two on two walls and one, in all its solitary glory, on the third wall. The last wall was taken up by a set of the traditional shoji doors leading through to his photo lab, as he liked to call it.

Fiona’s attention was immediately drawn to the single picture on the far wall and without saying a word, she walked forward to stand ten paces in front of it. A wry smile touched his mouth. He’d taken that picture over seven years ago – an elfin Yumi with big dark eyes, dressed in gossamer silk, blowing a dandelion clock, as if she held the mystery of time in her hand. The picture had gained him international acclaim and won numerous awards. It had also earned him a fortune and continued to do so, thanks to the numerous prints and posters that were sold around the world but particularly in Asia.

And now she was married. To someone else. And he felt empty inside.

‘It’s bigger than I thought it would be,’ Fiona said. ‘This is the original?’

‘Sure is,’ he drawled.

‘I thought it would be surrounded by infra-red beams and heavy-duty alarms,’ she said, turning her head as if she expected to find some hidden, hi-tech security.

He shrugged, eying the glossy black and white print in the simple black frame. ‘People can buy it for a couple hundred yen. It’s not worth stealing.’

Fiona turned sharp eyes his way and saw too much.

He hated that the image could be bought so cheaply. A popular image, it earned the cash. He shouldn’t complain since it enabled him to do pretty much as he pleased these days. Well, most of the time. He gave his watch a surreptitious check. A couple of hours, that was all he had to give up.

Fiona turned and surveyed the other pictures, taking her time, stalking around the room with those long-legged strides, visiting and studying each picture like the perfect student. Although, he had to give her some credit. She wasn’t fawning over him or pandering to his ego. He left her to her silent, careful contemplation and pulled open the doors to fire up the computer and monitors in the other room.

‘When you’re done, come through and we’ll take a look at what you’ve got,’ he called as he switched on the coffee machine. ‘You want a drink?’

‘I’d love a coffee,’ she said, appearing in the doorway, examining the space with interest and checking out all the equipment spread across one large bench at the back of the room: scanner, two twenty-four-inch screens and a high-definition printer.

‘Do you ever develop film?’

‘Not for a while but I’ve got a developing room,’ he jerked his head towards the little doorway tucked in the corner and the square shape that bit into the room.

‘There?’ she pointed.

He nodded, realising that he’d got out of the habit of pointing to things, instead using his head to indicate things more often than not. ‘That’s considered very rude in Japan.’

She pulled her hand back. ‘What, pointing?’

‘Yes, and blowing your nose. Japanese people think using a tissue is pretty disgusting.’

‘I’ll remember that. Good job I don’t get hayfever.’

‘Haruka took you to her beloved sakura yesterday, I gather.’

‘Yes.’ Her lips compressed and he read in them the silent condemnation; guilt paid another unwanted visit.

‘Sorry I let you down yesterday. But you must have got some great pictures. The blossom is spectacular.’ Although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a conscious effort to seek it out, to take part in the Japanese ritual of hanami.

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘You didn’t need to,’ he said dryly. ‘And Haruka made her views quite clear this morning.’

Anger flashed in Fiona’s eyes. ‘That’s nothing to do with me. I never said a word. I was quite happy to spend the day with her and her family. They’re lovely people.’ He could see from the wistful smile that lightened her face that she genuinely liked them. For some reason it pleased him that she could appreciate what special people they were.

In a softer voice he said, ‘Let’s see what you’ve got then.’

He held out his hand to take her camera from her. ‘Nice job. I had one of these once. Now I use