The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,67

how down-to-earth and normal he’d been, but she wasn’t sure if that might get Gabe into trouble.

Now she wished she had as she examined his slightly dishevelled appearance.

‘Good night?’ she asked with a hint of acid. She was allowed to disapprove, she told herself, unable to keep at bay the slick eel of jealousy that wormed around in her stomach. Yumi was a married woman.

He winced. ‘Not really.’

‘Good,’ she said, pleased at his quick flicker of surprise but he didn’t say anything. Instead he hauled up his baggage, leaving the black reflector bag for her to carry, and headed out of the hotel.

For most of the journey, he worked through his email on his phone catching up with correspondence. Fiona tried to listen to her podcast but couldn’t concentrate; she could smell the faint traces of Yumi’s perfume on Gabe’s shirt – the same one from yesterday. Why was it that the walk of shame left a man looking rumpled and sexy? And how could she possibly think he was sexy when he’d come from another woman’s bed? That horrible jealousy coiled and slithered inside her and she steadfastly stared out of the window, horrified to find that a lone traitorous tear had escaped and was sliding down her face. Angrily, she dashed it away and sniffed, wishing she had the nerve to blow her nose but knowing from Gabe’s warning it was considered extremely rude.

‘You all right?’ mouthed Gabe glancing up from his emails.

‘Fine,’ Fiona mouthed back.

He leaned closer and mercifully the tang of his aftershave overpowered the light perfume but nothing could dilute the sudden longing that tripped her pulse as he murmured in her ear.

‘I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have ditched you. It was rude. But … Yumi’s quite fragile just now. She doesn’t have many friends. We’ve known each other for a long time. I feel desperately sorry for her. Her husband’s away all the time, doesn’t pay her much attention. She’s on her own a lot.’

‘You don’t need to justify it to me, Gabe,’ she whispered back fiercely, unable to hide her anger at his excuses. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

His eyes narrowed as he grasped her meaning. ‘I’m not sleeping with her,’ he growled.

‘You’re a grown man.’ Her whisper sounded accusing but the thought of him and Yumi together was more painful than she could have imagined. ‘Like I said, it’s nothing to do with me.’

‘I. Am. Not. Sleeping with her.’

She shrugged and his blue eyes blazed.

He held her gaze and she had to drop her eyes.

Throwing himself back into his seat, he went back to his phone and she checked her watch. They were cutting it fine for her to get back in time for the tea ceremony. Suddenly she longed for the quiet calm of the older woman’s house.

***

Setsuko’s solemn attention as she folded Fiona into the kimono and her gentle chatter was calming in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible. Her anger at Gabe had lasted the whole way back from the station. Couldn’t the stupid man see how Yumi manipulated him? Her fingers clenched, but then softened. There was something about the steady ritual and the order as each garment went on. Something about being in the pared-down room with the sun pouring in and the sound of birdsong outside. Focusing on each element of the costume and Setsuko’s gentle chatter, she ran a finger over one of the embroidered cranes on the fabric of the kimono.

Finally dressed, her hair piled in a lose bun secured by ornate bamboo slides, Fiona and Setsuko took their kimono-constricted steps down to the teashop. Elegant though it was, the restrictive dress ensured a leisurely and measured journey along the engawa, the wooden veranda, skirting the garden and into Haruka’s chashitsu. Fiona wondered if this, like so much else in Japanese culture, was deliberate and another form of mindfulness Slowing the pace, taking your time. You couldn’t hurry in a kimono, that was for sure, and the slow steps as they’d walked down through the garden had brought a sense of peace. She was glad she’d agreed to wear the kimono at Setsuko’s suggestion on her return. Had the other woman guessed how cross and upset she was?

There was a Western couple and another woman in the room and, to her astonishment, Gabe. What was he doing here? He hadn’t mentioned anything about coming along. The last thing he’d said was ‘Why don’t you come over to the studio later