The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,4

She was a very long way from home. The sixteen-hour flight cocooned in the close confines of the aircraft had cushioned her awareness of the true distance. Now the reality hit hard as she took in the unfamiliar architecture of the buildings, the strange roads signs, the huge multitude of overhead cables that you didn’t see at home, and the lamp posts which looked more like ornate bird boxes. It was like nowhere she’d ever been before. Although the street was wide, the houses came right up to the edge of the road with pots of plants around the doors as if to compensate for the lack of front garden. Everything seemed to be made from wood apart from the dark green tiled roofs that sloped down sharply to create a slight overhang.

When she stopped to study the bamboo screens covering the windows, Gabe did pause and wait for her to catch up. ‘This is quite a traditional area. These houses are a couple of hundred years old.’

‘I love all the wood,’ she said, fascinated by the buildings even though they symbolised how far from home she was.

‘Sugi. Japanese cedar,’ he replied as he kept moving, still a few steps ahead of her.

She glared at his back and picked up her stride to keep up with him as he veered off to the right, down another narrower street, and stopped to wait for her outside a shop front.

With a smile, she stared up at the big wood-framed square window, a cross between a bay window at home and a balcony. Trailing jasmine surrounded the window which had a gorgeous but minimalist display of elegantly spouted teapots and beautifully glazed traditional teacups. Underneath the window were several big pots with leafy camellias with deep pink buds about to burst into bloom.

‘This is gorgeous,’ she blurted out, wishing her camera was to hand.

‘Be prepared to get used to it. This is Haruka’s teashop; she and Professor Kobashi live upstairs, which is where you’ll be staying.’

Fiona clapped her hands in delight. ‘It’s so lovely.’ She took another moment to study the low tiled roof – curling up at the edges like sultan’s slippers – that jutted out above the window with its glossy green tiles.

Inside the doorway, a flight of stairs led to the right into the teashop, while on the left was a wider porch area. Gabe immediately toed off his shoes and called out in Japanese. She caught the words ‘Haruka san’.

‘You speak Japanese?’

He shook his head. ‘Basic greetings. The odd word. That’s all. You need to take your shoes off. The slippers there will be for you.’ He’d already pushed his feet into a pair of larger slippers.

The door of what looked like paper and wood slid open to reveal a tiny Japanese woman with her dark hair swept back from her face and piled in a lustrous bun which added at least two inches to her height.

‘Gabriel san.’ She greeted him with clear delight, bowing before kissing him on both cheeks, her dark button eyes shining before addressing him in a stream of low voiced Japanese and patting his arms.

Fiona studied the enthusiastic welcome with curiosity. She’d expected Japanese people to be formal and reserved. There was no sign of that here.

‘Haruka san, this is Fiona.’

She stepped forward and put both hands together before nodding to Fiona with a polite little bow. ‘Welcome, Fiona. It is very good to meet you.’ Her smile, though friendly, wasn’t quite as effusive as the one Gabe had received; he was obviously very popular round here.

‘Come, come.’ She led the way with small, neat steps, up a flight of stairs that turned right on itself on a small landing, so that Fiona guessed they were now above the teashop. She couldn’t wait to go inside that, although her curiosity was piqued by the very different Japanese interior. The woman led them into a large living area. It was decidedly minimalist with very little furniture and wooden floors which were covered with large mats encompassing the entire central floor area. There were a few very low-level chairs with high upright backs and an odd-looking table that seemed to have its own futon mattress. Apart from a few pottery items on a low-level wooden sideboard and a couple of painted scrolls hanging on the walls, Fiona realised there were very few ornaments and none of the sort of clutter that characterised her mother’s house. She smiled; she rather liked the clean lines and tidiness of