The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,9

He turned and began to walk briskly, inviting no further conversation.

Realising he had no intention of waiting for her, she trotted after him, determined to engage with him. He’d had three hours to himself. He was supposed to be her mentor; he owed her

‘I can’t decide whether I feel inspired or depressed. I’m never going to be that good.’

‘Probably not,’ said Gabe equably.

For a moment it took a minute for his blunt words to sink in. ‘Thanks for the encouragement.’

‘I don’t deal in dishonesty. You wouldn’t come out of the Louvre and say I’m never going to be as good as Monet or Van Gogh. Because no one would be. They were geniuses of their age. Here you’ve had a snapshot of the very best of the very best.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said.

‘If it’s any consolation, from what I’ve seen you’re a good, competent technician.’

She turned, a touch deflated. ‘Damning with faint praise.’

‘No, encouraging with honesty. Any idiot can take a once-in-a-lifetime photo through sheer luck. A good, competent technician can look for those perfect compositions, seek them out, know it when they see it, and take the shot.’

She could see what he meant but it still stung a little.

‘You’re here to find those compositions … with my help.’ He cocked his head. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No, I was—’ Thankfully he interrupted before she had to confess what a wuss she’d been.

‘Good. There’s a great tempura bar not far from here. We can grab a bite to eat there.’ What was a tempura bar? She didn’t like to ask but, given her stomach was rumbling like a volcano, at the moment she’d probably eat anything.

***

Gabe knew he’d been an arse; you couldn’t miss the disappointment in that expressive face. The blue eyes damn well shimmered with it. She was a heart-on-her-sleeve girl but he couldn’t bear to talk about photography, about the amazing, often gut-wrenching, pictures in that incredible collection. Pinching his lips tight as he noted the droop of her shoulders, he considered an apology; she deserved more but … he couldn’t do it. Like a snake gliding through his gut, his stomach tied in knots at the thought of it. She was bound to want to talk about the greats – he could already see the earnest enthusiasm that wanted to bubble out of her. She’d want to talk techniques, what she’d seen, what she loved … and he didn’t think he could bear it.

When was the last time he’d taken a decent shot? A truly memorable picture? Sure, he could take pictures that made people happy enough, like a performing bloody monkey, but he’d lost that ability to find and capture what was under the skin. Really lost it, and he missed it like a part of his body. Once it had been second nature, constantly lurking in his peripheral vision, an added sixth sense he could call upon at any moment. A has-been, that’s what they called people like him.

‘If you don’t mind a bit of a walk, we’ll go to the restaurant and then we could take in Shibuya Crossing,’ he offered, taking her arm and steering her down the path. If they ate quickly, they could pick up the subway there and still be in plenty of time to avoid rush hour.

‘What’s that?’ she asked as wary as a puppy that had been kicked once, making him feel even more of a shit. Yet he couldn’t help the little prickle of anticipation at showing her one of Tokyo’s iconic landmarks.

‘Wait and see,’ he said with a quick grin.

‘That’s mean,’ she said, rolling her eyes. His heart gave a funny twist at her instant sunny acceptance. A point to her. She didn’t seem to bear grudges.

‘I know,’ he waggled his eyebrows at her to make her laugh. ‘But I want to see your face.’ He fingered the small Lumix camera in his pocket which he carried out of habit rather than that previous obsessive desire that he should never miss out on a potential shot. He frowned, an elusive wisp of a memory sliding through his brain. For a moment as she laughed, he thought she looked familiar.

‘Will I like it?’ she asked.

‘Hmm, I’m not sure like is the right word but it’s got to be seen. There’s quite a lot to see in Tokyo. Do you have anything you’re desperate to see?’

‘I’d like to see the cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji, although I know it’s a way out, and some of the shrines.’ She lifted her