The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,70

and reliable as Tupperware. Unlike them, he’d been going places with a heady, exciting, glamorous career. It had been easy to impress them with his success, his early achievements, but somewhere along the way he’d lost sight of the values he’d grown up with. He downplayed things in his regular calls, talked about work and the latest movie star he’d photographed, instead of that he’d lost his passion for photography and how tired and bored of life he was. They were sad for him when he split up with Yumi and he didn’t reveal how low he’d sunk in that time. Upbeat, endlessly cheerful Sally and pragmatic Jim didn’t have much truck with self-pity. They’d never met her and he knew in his heart of hearts that although they never would have breathed a word to him, they wouldn’t have approved of his choice. And until now he’d never really understood just how great Tupperware was.

Haruka polished the wooden bamboo stick, spooning out a perfectly level serving of matcha tea. With every movement, there was clear purpose in what she was doing. She had trained for this for years and was totally in control. Absolutely assured in every element of the ceremony. She knew with bone-deep certainty exactly what came next. A certainty, he reflected that was rather reassuring.

And it made him question what his purpose was.

What was he doing with his life? Dinner with Yumi had been a disaster. She’d been cross that Ken hadn’t joined them and he’d quickly realised that had been the real reason for her trip to Kyoto. When was he going to stop chasing after her? Did he even love her anymore? He cared about her and he worried about her. Despite her marriage, she was so unhappy. She put on a brave face in public but in private to him, she let the truth spill out. How lonely she was, how Meiko never had any time for her, how mean with money he was.

Across the room, Fiona accepted her tea from Setsuko, a sweet smile transforming the solemn concentration on her face. It pierced him with sudden awareness. In the last couple of days with Fiona he’d been … more human. Like he was coming back to life. She challenged him, made him angry, made him laugh, made him think. He knew with certainty that the pictures he’d taken of Ken Akito were the best he’d taken in over a year. Was that down to her? And he’d taken some great shots of her which he was dying to take a closer look at. There was something about her expressive face that called to him.

Right now there was a look of unbearable sadness on her face, quickly followed by resignation. What had caused them? What on earth would she say if she knew about the unaccountable urge he had to put his arms around her and reassure her that everything would be all right?

***

‘Hi, come on in.’ He jumped up, eager to please and relieved to see her when Fiona tentatively rapped on the rice-paper screen of the shoji door to his studio workroom. He realised he’d been checking the clock rather a lot in the last hour, worried she might not turn up.

‘I wanted to see Ken’s pictures,’ she said, surprising him slightly by sliding into the seat next to him. On the train she’d given him the impression she’d rather sit with a skunk than with him, staring out of the window for most of the journey.

‘We’ve got some good ones,’ he leaned towards the screen and, clicking away on the mouse, brought up a selection.

‘We?’

His hand froze over the mouse. We. He’d said it without thinking. ‘Yes. Teamwork. I’ve not had an assistant before. You were a big help.’ Not wanting to analyse the slip, he covered it quickly. ‘What do you think?’

She scanned the images and he watched her face, strangely anxious to hear her opinion. In his mind there was no doubt about it that the standout shot was the one of Ken, elbows on his knees, hands on his face, his mouth wide open with an unselfconscious laugh. It had been one of those rare unguarded moments that Gabe would have kicked himself forever if he’d missed.

‘That one.’ She pointed and immediately lowered her finger. ‘Rude to point but definitely that one,’ she added with uncharacteristic self-confidence. A bubble of pride swelled under his sternum. She had a very good eye and she understood what made a