The Little Teashop in Tokyo

by Julie Caplin

  As soon as she set the blackened pot on one of the rings, the older woman began to stab furiously at her phone.

  ‘You’re not texting Gabe, are you?’ asked Fiona a shade anxiously.

  ‘No.’ Haruka’s crisp reply stopped her asking any more questions and she sat in silence, wondering what next, until Haruka poured tea into two porcelain pots and held one out with both hands to Fiona with one of her small, neat bows.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Haruka kept glancing down at her phone.

  ‘How do you know Gabe?’ asked Fiona, a question that had piqued her since yesterday.

  ‘He came to teach at the university for six months and my husband invited him to stay here. Then he got lots of work and decided to stay. He moved into the apartment we own when it became free and made some rooms into a studio.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He was like a son.’ The smile slipped into a scowl. ‘And then he met Yumi.’

  ‘You don’t like her.’

  ‘She’s bad news,’ she said, sounding very American, but to Fiona’s disappointment didn’t elaborate further, perhaps because her phone suddenly sprang into life with a strident ring. She seized it and began to speak at speed. Fiona listened, amused by the unfamiliar language, Haruka’s intent expression and the very different inflexions. Her hostess sounded like an angry warlord barking instructions to a subordinate.

  When she put down the phone, the beam was back in place. The general had laid out her battle plans. ‘Mayu will take you this morning but then we will go to Ueno Park. It is only a short walk and a good time for Hanami.’

  ‘Cherry-blossom viewing season,’ said Fiona, remembering the term from one of the guide books.

  Haruka nodded with her wise-owl expression, clearly pleased. ‘This afternoon Setsuko and I will take you to visit sakura.’

  ‘The cherry blossom,’ said Fiona feeling like an A-star pupil when Haruka gave another slight bob of her head.

  ‘But first Mayu will take you. She is not at class today. She will take you into Tokyo.’

  ‘Oh, she doesn’t need to do that,’ said Fiona. ‘I’ll be fine on my own. And you don’t have to take me anywhere.’

  ‘It is all agreed. Mayu will take you and then you both join us.’ Just one look at Haruka’s implacable and slightly triumphant expression told Fiona that she’d have more chance taking on the famed might of the Japanese Imperial Army than the kind but steely woman. ‘We will have a picnic.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’ Fiona wondered if poor Mayu had had much say about it. Taking an older tourist around the city probably wasn’t high on the teenager’s agenda.

  ***

  A scant ten minutes later, dressed in an eye-watering neon-blue wig, knee-high white socks, a short pleated skirt, platform sneakers and a bright yellow puffer jacket, Mayu appeared at the door to the kitchen, her face full of mischief and excitement.

  ‘Fiona san. We’re going to Tokyo. Come. Come. Are you ready?’ She shot her grandmother a quick glance, assuming an innocent air. ‘This morning we will do fun, exciting things.’

  Haruka folded her arms and studied her granddaughter with an implacable expression but made no comment about either the clothes or the provocative line.

  ‘I’ll grab a coat,’ said Fiona, wondering what on earth she was letting herself in for.

  No one batted an eyelid at Mayu’s outlandish outfit on the train journey into the city centre. Like most of the other passengers on the train, as soon as she sat down she pulled out her phone and was soon absorbed in the screen. Following Mayu’s lead, Fiona scrolled through her WhatsApp group with Avril, Sophie, Kate, Eva and David, the dear friends she’d made on that life-changing trip to Copenhagen.

  Who’d have thought she’d end up being friends with someone like Avril? Fiona rubbed at a patch on her jeans above her knee, already slightly worn. Kind, scary, bossy Avril had promised – some people might say threatened – to promote Fiona’s photo exhibition and Fiona knew she would. Avril was nothing if not totally loyal and also rather blunt. She spent the journey mulling over possible ideas for the exhibition. If Avril hadn’t made such a big deal of it and she could have got away with being a bit anonymous, she wouldn’t have to worry quite so much. But Avril had outed her on the group and now they were all rooting for her; they’d all promised, apart from Sophie who lived in the States, that they would be there for the official opening in a few weeks’ time.

  When the train drew in to their final destination, as if they were best friends for ever – a term that Fiona felt Mayu was very familiar with – the teenager linked her arm through Fiona’s and led her out through the busy station into the life force of Tokyo – bright, vibrant and throbbing with life, colour and neon. Above them lights flashed, the traffic crept along and the smell of soy and noodles from a nearby kiosk teased her senses. Fiona liked the immediate sense that she knew exactly which country she was in. Already in a few days it had become unmistakable.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Fiona, half running to keep up with Mayu’s frantic pace. She was the polar opposite to her serene, quiet mother. Living life at four hundred miles an hour. A Shinkansen train next to a steam locomotive.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’ Mayu’s voice sang with excitement. ‘And you are going to love it. It’s the best. Better than boring old cherry blossom. Every year Jiji and Haha want to go.’ She rolled her eyes in true teenage fashion. ‘Boring, but don’t worry, where we’re going first is banging.’

  Hmm. Fiona glanced at the anime school-girl outfit and wondered what cultural experience constituted banging while she tried to keep up with the enthusiastic teen. She managed to slow Mayu down enough to take a few pictures en route. She tried to capture the busyness of the city, but the elusive essence of Japan evaded her and when she looked at the digital view finder she was disappointed. There was something ‘other’ about the streets that she couldn’t quite capture. Frustration bubbled like an itch below the surface of her skin. What was missing? Why couldn’t she get it? The pictures seemed pedestrian and dull. God, she’d better up her game and pronto if she wanted to get enough material for an exhibition. This was where she could do with a proper mentor, someone who would actually take an interest.

  ‘We’re nearly there,’ said Mayu, the pitch in her voice rising, and then she threw an arm forward. ‘Borderless, Team Lab, digital art museum.’

  Fiona nodded, having absolutely no idea what a digital art museum was.

  They walked into the crowded foyer, paid their entrance fee and filed in with crowds of Japanese and Western tourists.

  ‘It’s the best place on earth,’ declared Mayu. ‘And we have to, have to, go to the Butterfly House, first. It’s major.’ And like a frantic butterfly herself, Mayu darted forward into a dark corridor following the signs. Fiona followed more slowly; she wasn’t very keen on flappy things and tended to avoid getting too close to birds, butterflies and moths.

  Stepping inside the first room she realised her fears were unfounded as gentle music played and her eyes widened at the spectacle before her. The room was full of light and sound, butterflies growing and morphing before her eyes, projected onto a series of black screens that filled the room, dividing it into smaller spaces. Everywhere she looked a different scene was projected onto the walls. Colour and movement. Shapes and shades. A visual feast for the eyes. For a moment she stood trying to take it all in and then focused on one scene where hundreds of butterflies took flight, dappling a would-be sky.

  It was impossible not to smile. Not to feel joyous as the magical sights and constant movement flooded the senses. Like a child, Mayu had darted away chasing a cloud of butterflies. Entranced, Fiona touched a flower which immediately wilted under her fingers before springing up and blooming again a few feet away. The floor and walls were alive with light and images that changed constantly as people interacted with them. Fiona had never seen anything like it before. It was impossible to take photos in here, she thought, not with the constantly changing lig
ht and besides, you’d lose the sense of immersing yourself in the scenes and images. Liberating, that was how she’d describe it. You had the freedom to wander, to watch, and to touch and see the constant changes. No scene was the same and your actions could change things. It was both fascinating and mesmerising. No wonder Mayu had been so excited.

  And she was good company – enthusiastic, knowledgeable and desperate to show Fiona every last exciting gallery and section of the museum.

  ‘Here. Here. The waterfall, this is my favourite.’ With the sound of the rush of water and the detailed graphics, it was easy to believe you were standing underneath a waterfall and when Fiona touched the wall, to her amazement and delight, a cherry blossom began to bloom beneath her fingers, as flower after flower burst into life.

  ‘Cool, eh?’ asked Mayu

  Fiona shook her head. ‘Way better than cool. It’s magical.’ The whole place was joyous, crazy, and utterly inspiring. While slightly frenetic and stimulating to the brain, to put it mildly, it was also in a weird and completely counter-intuitive way rather relaxing. The digital explosion of sight and sound was so absorbing, it left no room for anything else, which meant she could switch off from worrying about photography. You could only truly appreciate the magic by throwing yourself wholeheartedly into the interactive elements, take part in the magic, and be in the moment. Hadn’t Gabe said something about that yesterday?

  You had to focus on the here and now. People, mused Fiona at one point stepping back and seeing the wonder and enjoyment on the faces around her, had fallen out of the habit of living in the moment. Enjoying what they could see rather than trying to capture it to show other people. It was like putting a butterfly in a jar: the short term gain fizzled out very quickly when it died. People should be immersing themselves in the moment.

  The revelation hit her with surprising weight, it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about properly before. She wanted her pictures to be more, to tell a story, to make people look deeper, to see more than a picture. Rather like Gabe’s pictures of Yumi. He would understand, she thought. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be so easily fobbed off. If he had work, she would go to his studio and watch him. Learn from him.

  But in the meantime, she was going to enjoy Mayu’s company and this afternoon the famous cherry blossom was bound to provide plenty of material.

  Chapter 6

  The trees were dripping with blossom, fat, fistfuls of pink petals lining the starkly contrasting dark branches and Fiona couldn’t help but reach out to touch the pink pom-poms and feel the velvet softness against the tips of her fingers. Ueno Park was more spectacular than she could possibly have imagined.

  ‘This is …’ Her eyes shone as she tried to take it all in.

  Mayu rolled her eyes. ‘Lame but kinda cool too. My mom and Jiji come here every year.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her round face creased into a sudden naughty grin. ‘Don’t tell them, but I like it really. It’s a family tradition. We come again at the weekend with Dad and Ojīchan. But I like it when it’s the three of us … and you of course,’ she added quickly. ‘Come this way; we have a favourite place.’ She linked her arm through Fiona’s and led the way along the path.

  The trees that lined the avenue next to the lake ranged as far as the eye could see, along with vast numbers of people who had come out to see them. Fiona was astounded by the positively festive atmosphere and the tangible excitement that buzzed in the air. The noise of people chattering and exclaiming was louder than a flock of geese and the paths were so crowded it was difficult to find room to raise her arms to take any pictures until Haruka and Setsuko led her off the path under the branches. Underneath the trees, small family groups sat on blankets enjoying picnics, their hair dappled with the odd falling petal.

  ‘This is …’

  ‘Cherry blossom,’ said Mayu with a deliberate yawn but her eyes glinted with mischief.

  ‘Once a year,’ scolded Hakura. ‘Once a year. And every year different. If the wind comes too soon …’ She waved her hand to indicate that the petals would be wafted into the sky. ‘It is the cycle of life.’

  ‘That is what makes it special,’ explained Setsuko. ‘That it is here for such a short time and we must make the most of it. There are blossom reports telling people when are the best times to come so you can see the trees at their best. They also warn if a storm is coming. That is beautiful too but signals the end of the sakura. It is nature, birth, beauty and death.’

  ‘Ephemeral,’ said Fiona, immediately understanding what she was getting at.

  ‘Yes.’ Setsuko’s gentle smile was full of approval while Haruka was giving her granddaughter a telling glare.

  ‘It is beautiful, Jiji,’ said Mayu dutifully, with a wink at Fiona, bringing back a memory of the cherry blossom appearing and fading in the digital museum. Haruka’s face softened and she patted Mayu on the arm and said something that Fiona guessed was along the lines of, ‘you’re a good girl really.’

  Setsuko unrolled a blanket that she’d had tucked under her arm and Mayu took it from her without being asked, spreading it under the nearest cherry tree. Haruka produced a rectangular, two-tiered bamboo box, held together with a grey strap, and placed it in the centre of the heavy cotton blanket before inviting everyone to come and sit. Undoing the strap and taking off the top lid, Setsuko offered the box to Fiona. ‘Onigiri.’

  Inside were two rows of small, triangular-shaped rice balls. She took one and bit into it and found that the centre was both sharp and sweet and absolutely delicious.

  ‘Mm, that’s good,’ she said pointing to the middle. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That one is filled with pickled plum.’

  ‘Oh my, I love it.’ The sweet-sour flavour burst on her tongue, tempered perfectly by the simple taste of the rice.

  ‘This is a very traditional snack. Some have salted salmon and others tuna and Japanese mayonnaise,’ explained Setsuko, offering the box to Mayu.

  ‘Jiji makes the best onigiri,’ said the girl, giving her grandmother a warm smile. ‘When I take them to school in my bento box, everyone wants to try them.’

  Haruka nodded and her eyes wrinkled with satisfaction.

  ‘You make these,’ said Fiona looking at the rest of the rice ball in her hand.

  ‘I can teach you, Fiona san.’

  ‘That would be great. It would make a nice piece for my blog post and I could impress my friend Sophie who’s a cookery writer.’

  ‘You’re honoured,’ said Mayu. ‘This is a very old family recipe. Jiji never tells anyone.’

  Haruka let out a chuckle and said something in rapid Japanese before turning to Fiona. ‘I will show you but the recipe … that stays in the family.’

  Setsuko groaned. ‘She never shares it with anyone. Not even me.’

  ‘Traditions are best held by those who honour them,’ said Haruka with a mysterious wave of her hand.

  After lunch, Setsuko and Haruka decided to take a stroll, while Fiona busied herself taking lots of photos of the trees, the picnicking families, and a pretty girl in a pale blue kimono holding a silk parasol. When she made her way back to the picnic rug, Mayu was absorbed in a video game on her phone and Fiona wasn’t sure she’d even noticed her absence. Loathe to sit down again, she took a couple of close ups of the blowsy pink flowers, tight shots of the frilly stamens inside and the love heart edges of the petals. Then she wandered to the edge of the path to try and get a picture of the trees lining the avenue like romantic sentries. She crouched, trying to get the long shot and all the jostling bodies and then spotted Haruka and Setsuko, arm in arm, their heads turned towards each other deep in conversation. The sight of the two of them in such harmony tugged hard at her heart strings. Mother and daughter. Setsuko was laughing and her mother was patting the forearm linked through hers. Fiona raised her camera and took the shot, a ping of regret making a little hole in heart. She couldn’t imagine ever strolling arm in arm with her mother. They walke
d at such different paces for a starter, her mother always walked with quick, angry bird hops, fierce but not really gaining ground. And conversation was never easy – her mother had too much to say about very little, to which, Fiona acknowledged with a wince, she often didn’t listen. Maybe she ought to make a bit more effort. Her mum was lonely and scared of what would happen when Fiona finally moved out. Her hypochondria was a symptom of her need to hang on to her daughter.

  Fiona wondered what the two Japanese women were talking about, both of them absorbed in each other and seemingly oblivious of their beautiful surroundings, as she took another shot of Setsuko’s graceful hands describing something to her mother, noting the way the two of them walked hip to hip with careful matching steps. Celestial harmony, that’s what she should call the picture. The backdrop of a pink so pale it was almost white framed the two women perfectly, making it appear as if they’d emerged from a cloud.

  ‘Fiona san,’ Haruka bowed when the women returned. ‘What do you think of the sakura?’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Have you taken lots of pictures?’ asked Setsuko nodding her head towards the camera.

  Before Fiona could answer, Haruka interrupted. ‘I should like to have one with Mayu and Setsuko. The three generations with the sakura.’ She nodded towards the picnic blanket. ‘There.’

  ‘Yes mother,’ said Setsuko, sending a quick smile of apology to Fiona.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said, smiling back and following Haruka who was bustling forward and haranguing Mayu, clearly about being on her phone. Fiona bit back her amusement as the older woman shooed and bullied her granddaughter into position before demanding Setsuko come and sit with them.

  ‘This. Take it like this.’ Haruka waved her hand to indicate that this was the desired pose. Even though it was stilted and wooden, with Mayu’s barely contained disgust and Setsuko’s silent apology, Fiona snapped away and was rewarded by Haruka’s regal nod at the end. She showed the women the series of shots through the viewfinder. Haruka harrumphed her approval, Mayu made a few groaning noises, and Setsuko thanked Fiona in her quiet, gentle voice.