to see the pictures of Ken?’
And that created its own dilemma. Part of her longed to see them and enjoy again that professional intimacy that they’d shared before Yumi had turned up, the other – the sensible – part knew it would be a terrible mistake. It would exacerbate that sense of hopelessness and heartache. Gabe was as far from reach as he had been when she was eighteen, except then, at least it had been just a silly crush. Not like this depth of emotion where the thoughts of what it would be like to kiss him kept creeping into her head like spidery cracks intent on forcing their way through. She was also terrified she might give herself away – on the train she’d had to limit herself to sneaking periodic peeps his way, scared she might get caught studying those cheekbones or staring hungrily at his lips. Yesterday, in the blink of an eye, she’d turned into some crazy person, desperate to capture his attention. Wanting him to notice her.
Despite the turmoil of her thoughts, she stared at him, and he responded with a nod. Haruka acknowledged her with a simple bow and if Fiona had to label it, the faintest smirk of triumph, as Setsuko escorted her into the room and guided her to one of the tatami mats. Fiona bowed to the other occupants of the room and lowered herself into a sitting position; she’d been warned not to attempt the kneeling position that Haruka had adopted as apparently that took years of practice to sustain.
Ignoring Gabe, who was unfortunately positioned opposite her, she sat down on her mat and concentrated on Haruka kneeling behind a small tea station which was surprising in its simplicity, although by now, Fiona thought, she ought to have been used to the streamlined Japanese approach where less was definitely more. She felt able to breathe more deeply in the uncluttered, pared-back room, as if her emotions had room to expand into the space. The steaming black pot positioned on a small gas ring drew her attention and she studied the neat arrangement of several assorted pots of differing sizes.
There was a quiet hush of almost breathless anticipation in the room and Fiona settled more comfortably, looking out beyond Haruka through the wide-open window to the greens, pinks, and reds of the garden which made the perfect backdrop. With a rush of happiness, Fiona smoothed down the soft silk, doubly glad she’d worn the kimono when she caught a quick approving gleam from the otherwise impassive Haruka. Now she’d started, it was very serious business. From what she’d picked up from Mayu, who was clearly very proud of both her grandmother and mother, it took years of study and practice to become a master of tea.
Inadvertently she caught Gabe’s eye and prayed the rush of heat wasn’t obvious to him. It was as if every sense were suddenly tuned into him even though she was still fuming at him. He was studying her face with quiet intensity which made her nerve endings tingle, almost as if he were touching her. Breathe, she told herself, focusing on Haruka, relieved when all the earlier agitation she’d felt began to dissipate.
Haruka took a little red napkin that had been tucked into her obi and flicked it out with a no-nonsense, audible click that signalled the ceremony had begun. With long, elegant fingers she smoothed down its length before folding it with careful exact movements. It was quickly apparent that every last part of the ceremony had been judiciously choreographed and that precision dominated each fluid transition.
Fiona watched, totally absorbed in the painstaking details as the ritual unfolded. The silence in the room made her aware of her own blood pumping around her body, the weight of her limbs pressed into the floor, and the rhythm of her breath.
Everyone’s attention was on Haruka as she scooped up steaming water in the long-handled bamboo cup, which, once the water was poured into the chawan, was put down at a very precise angle. Next, she carefully wiped the long stick that was used to scoop out the matcha powder into the chawan. Once hot water was tipped into the cup and whisked with the delicate, spidery bamboo whisk, Haruka turned the cup several times before offering it up to Setsuko who took it to the woman nearest her. Before it was handed over, the bowl was turned several times and the woman accepted it with a