by Julie Caplin
‘Yeah, sure. It’s a nice shot.’
‘Nice,’ she said.
‘She’ll be thrilled with it.’ It was a nice family shot. The three woman sitting together, their likeness to each other captured perfectly as well as their individual personalities. ‘Good job. If we crop it like this.’
They spent the next half hour working on the picture, enhancing and cropping it before printing it and putting it into one of the photo frames that he kept in stock. He was grateful that it used up a good portion of time and meant that there was less time to work through the next batch of shots.
After a second coffee, they returned to the remainder of Fiona’s pictures and he checked his watch. Almost two. He felt that he could respectably call it a day quite soon and hopefully he’d spent enough time with Fiona to appease Haruka.
With a weary internal sigh he returned to the screen and began to scroll through the images again. His fingers froze, hovering over the mouse, and then he leaned forward. Double clicking, he opened the picture up, watching as it enlarged on the screen. It was a shot of Haruka and Setsuko sharing an intimate smile as they walked arm in arm, their heads haloed with clouds of palest pink blossom. Love, it said. Pure mother-daughter love. His own heart clenched at the sight of it. Pure love. A distillation of something so special, and caught in the scant second it took to press the shutter. Had he ever loved Yumi with that much purity? Like his parents loved each other? The question shocked him. He’d never considered it before.
‘This is …’ He cast a quick glance at Fiona, seeing her profile suddenly lift with the alertness of the scent of something. Ah, she saw it too. ‘This is good. Very good. Brilliant.’ His finger traced the image, unable to determine quite what it was about the picture that made it what it was. It just was, and that was its perfection.
He turned to Fiona. ‘This is beautiful.’
A slow smile transformed her face, her eyes luminous with delight and … oh my God, he thought as it hit him. He had met her before.
Bloody hell.
It was her.
Chapter 8
‘We’re going to the Tokyo Skytree today,’ said Gabe to Haruka who, despite yesterday’s displeasure towards him, insisted he came in for tea before they headed off, offering him breakfast and asking if his coat was warm enough and whether he’d like to borrow one of her husband’s scarves.
Gabe lapped it up, patting her hand and putting his arm around her to give her a quick squeeze.
‘What would I do without you? Yes, I’d love a cup of your green tea. Do you have any of the gyokuro jade?’
Her beaming look his way was positively dazzling, as if he’d performed the best parlour trick in the book. ‘Especially for you.’ She turned to Fiona. ‘It is one of the finest green teas. Gabe has very excellent taste.’
Fiona refrained from rolling her eyes at this blatant sucking up, even if it was rather sweet to see Gabe enfolding the tiny woman in his arms.
‘Skytree will be good,’ said Haurka. ‘Cold, but good.’
Gabe nodded, turning to Fiona. ‘It’s a clear day, so there’ll be some great views from up there. You get a real idea of the size and scale of the city.’
Fiona scowled to herself. He sounded as if he was quoting a guidebook. She didn’t want to sound like a petulant school-girl but she didn’t want to go sightseeing, she wanted … That was the problem – she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She needed to find a theme for her exhibition. To start taking some proper photographs. Much as she’d enjoyed the museum in Mayu’s company, and the cherry blossom, apart from the one shot of Haruka and Setsuko, which she wasn’t sure she wanted to exhibit, she didn’t feel like she’d achieved very much. That one photo didn’t give her a starting point for an exhibition. Frustration made her fingertips itch and she tossed her heavy plait over her shoulder, slightly embarrassed when she realised Gabriel was watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face as he studied her braided hair. For some reason, the attention made her heart trip slightly, which made her even crosser. A couple of times yesterday in the studio, she’d been horribly aware of his closeness and had developed a fascination for the dark hairs on his wrists as he manipulated the mouse. She was not eighteen any more. Gabe was an attractive man, there was no denying that, but she did not have feelings for him. Never had, really. Raging teenage hormones had brainwashed her into believing something which was complete fantasy. With the memory swept a blush that burned her face and she had to turn away and bend down, pretending to fuss with one of her socks.
She drank calming green tea as Gabe talked to Haruka and she watched as he gradually relaxed, his smiles less guarded and his eyes starting to dance with amusement and animation. By the time a second cup of tea had been drunk, Gabe was teasing Haruka with a warm, gentle affection that surprised Fiona. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed this softer side to him existed.
‘Haruka san, you make the best tea in Japan.’ He raised the tiny china bowl, dwarfed in his large hands, and bowed to her.
‘And you, Gabriel san, are full of bull.’
Fiona almost snorted her tea out of her nose while Gabriel roared with laughter.
Haruka smiled serenely at the pair of them and dusted an invisible crumb from the table.
‘I’d forgotten how long you lived in America, Haruka san.’
She pressed her hands together and bowed, that irrepressible twinkle lighting her dark eyes.
***
Despite the visible softening of his character, he turned taciturn as soon as they left the house. When they emerged from the busy station at the other end, she was too busy concentrating on following him as he weaved the crowded streets at top speed to attempt to talk to him again, something she thought was deliberate on his part.
‘Here you go. The Skytree. Officially the tallest tower in the world, although not the tallest building. There’s a definite distinction of which locals are very proud.’ He handed over a sheet of paper. ‘I booked online. Here’s your ticket.’ He flicked his watch out from his sleeve. ‘I’ll meet you back here in two hours. It takes a while to get up there and I’m sure you’ll want to take lots of pictures. Visibility should be good.’
Too gobsmacked to say a word, Fiona took the proffered ticket.
‘See you later,’ he said, adding flippantly, ‘Have fun,’ and before she could collect her somewhat scattered wits, he’d wheeled around and disappeared into the flow of people passing by. She didn’t even have a chance to frame the words, ‘But, but …’
By the time she’d built a head of steam and hit fuming, ready to give him a piece of her mind, he was long gone. Had he really dumped her again?
‘Why the arrogant pr—!’ she muttered under her breath, clenching her fingers into tight fists. She’d never hit anyone or wanted to, in her life but Gabe was bidding to be the very first candidate. How dare he leave with such obvious haste, as if she were a nasty virus he was trying to avoid catching? It was hardly flattering.
And she was assailed by memories, not for the first time. Sick embarrassment coiled in her stomach. He’d given no sign that he remembered or recognised her. Surely it wasn’t anything to do with that. No, he was a rude, uncommunicative git who wasn’t even attempting to play mentor. Still boiling mad, she was drawn forward into the hordes of tourists all pushing their way into the lift heading to the first viewing level, the Tembo Deck. Despite her anger, she couldn’t fail to admire the technology and design mastery that had gone into the tower. It had all mod cons with additional bells and whistles. Built a few years ago, this tower had been designed to entertain and enthral its visitors, as well as make sure they didn’t have to actually climb the stairs to any of the mind-boggling four-hundred-and-fifty floors.
The first viewing platform on the mere three-hundred-and-fortieth floor offered an incredible view of the city, including a glass floor where you could see all the way down to the ground.
Fiona hesitated on the threshold of the
glass.
‘Safe as houses, honey,’ said a friendly American man with an encouraging smile. Hmm, she thought, thinking of the three little pigs’ houses. ‘Thanks,’ she said and stepped gingerly onto the glass, shuffling across the glossy surface, which was quite busy with everyone gazing downwards. If she had a stool, that might make a cool shot, standing slightly higher than everyone else, looking down at everyone with their necks bent. Then she could juxtapose the shot with another one, perhaps at the Shibuya Crossing with everyone peering up.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Bloody Gabe. If he’d been here, she might have asked him what he thought.
Looking down, she was relieved to see that there was a secondary framework of steel and glass less than a foot below, but even so, she felt a slight touch of disorientation. It really was a long way down. But at least it felt totally safe and, with a smile, she realised it reminded her of the Round Tower in Copenhagen and the tiny circle of old, thick glass that provided a view all the way to the bottom.
All thoughts of feeling safe were brushed away on the next portion of the climb to the top of the tower when she was swept along by the crowd of enthusiastic tourists, both Japanese and Western, into the lift which was on the outside of the building. Standing pressed against the glass, she held her breath during the rapid climb over the next hundred floors. Around her were excited cries and gasps of awe, some smiling faces, some apprehensive and others wide eyed with wonder, and for a moment she wished there were someone with her to share the heart-whooshing sensation as the lift glided upwards leaving little goose bumps of not-quite fear and not-quite excitement. Being on the outside of the building was both disconcerting and exhilarating and thankfully lasted a matter of seconds before the doors opened and they were disgorged onto the Tembo Gallery with its 360-degree view of the city.
Touching one of the huge curved glass panels, Fiona stopped, stunned by the sheer size of the city spread out below and the engineering feat that had built this extraordinary tower so high up in the sky. The sheer ingenuity of man never ceased to amaze her.
The view was truly spectacular, the city spread far below and stretching out towards the horizon. For a moment, she considered trying to take a series of panoramic pictures that she could match up at a later date to create the full 360-degree view as one. It was tempting but also a bit dull and technical. The idea didn’t grab her by the scruff of the neck and make her want to seize her camera with that adrenaline-junkie hope that this might be the big one.
She watched as a young boy reached out as if he could touch one of the skyscrapers in the distance, his face wide with wonder. And the idea clicked. She could take photos of the responses of other people up here and their reactions to the views and the sights. This was where a mentor would come in really handy. There was still over an hour before she was due to meet Gabe.
Irritated by his absence, she abandoned the views and took the lift back down to ground level in search of a coffee shop.
Having scanned the street at the bottom, in case he was anywhere in sight, she resigned herself to drinking coffee and brooding for the next hour until it was time to meet him. Foolishly, she still hadn’t asked to swap mobile numbers. As she went to open the door of the nearest coffee shop, she spotted Gabe, sitting three tables ahead with a cup in one hand, pushing an empty sachet of sugar around the table with the other.
She watched him, his finger toying with the white packet. Bored, was he? Good. He deserved to be. She’d assumed he had better things to do and that was why he hadn’t accompanied her. It stung that he clearly couldn’t be bothered. With a grim face she ordered a cup of coffee at the counter using a combination of sign language and nodding and made her way over to his table.
Without saying a word, she took his empty cup from him, not quite slamming hers down but making sure she had his full attention. Then she pulled out a chair and sat opposite him.
She was pleased to see that he seemed startled and then wary.
‘Afternoon,’ she said with icy calm.
‘How was it?’
‘Fine.’ She took a sip of the coffee, grateful for the fierce hit of caffeine.
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Problem?’
‘No. Not at all,’ she said with blithe insincerity.
With a wince he held his hand out for his coffee cup and then realising that it was empty put his hand back down again. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Now, why would you think that?’ Hiding a smile of satisfaction, she saw it register, a slight wariness denting that bored and indifferent facade.
‘You seem …’ He paused but she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead she left it hanging there and saw him groping for words.
Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he met her angry gaze. ‘I’m not into crowds and tourist places. I thought you’d be better off on your own.’
‘Perhaps. But just when does this mentoring kick in? Or do you plan to dump me at the key tourist attractions and hide out at the nearest coffee bar for the next two weeks?’
‘I’m not hiding out,’ he said, snapping upright with an indignant glare.
‘No?’ she asked. ‘Looks that way to me. I’ve been here for four days now and you’ve not exactly been very helpful.’
‘We went to the studio yesterday and the day before I was busy. Work.’
‘I’m not denying that … but I’d have thought your work would have provided a mentoring opportunity. I need to come up with an exhibition and a portfolio of pictures in the next two weeks. You’re supposed to be helping.’
Gabe didn’t quite go as far as looking ashamed but he pursed his lips and dropped his folded arms. His fingers worried at the sugar sachet again.
‘Have you had any ideas?’ he asked lightly, his gaze skimming beyond her as if the answer was of no real interest.
‘A few,’ she snapped. ‘It would have been helpful to discuss them with my mentor at the time.’
‘Well, now’s your chance,’ he said with a sudden smirk that she wanted to punch off his face. ‘I’m all ears.’
Now it was her turn to purse her lips. How had he done that? Turned the tables and made her feel like a needy child wanting attention? She didn’t like it. Not one bit. Because she wasn’t that child any more.
‘Do you know what, Gabe? I’ve flown over nine thousand miles for this trip, to be mentored by one of the best photographers in the world.’ She gave him a fierce stare. ‘And instead I get a second-rate replacement who can’t even be bothered with me.’ She felt a thrill of bitchiness when his eyes widened at the, ‘second rate replacement’ line. Good, she wanted him to feel bad. And if insulting him worked, she’d happily do it again. ‘Haruka has been nothing but kind to me and she seems to think you’re the bee’s knees. I’ve no idea why. I’m not asking for much but if you can’t be bothered then perhaps you can put me in touch with someone who can. Or I can ask Haruka’s husband for an alternative.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Gabe and she saw him brace the table suddenly as if stopping himself from rising to his feet. ‘You know you can’t.’
Guilt pricked at her; no, she couldn’t. The family had been nothing but kind to her and she would do anything to avoid upsetting Haruka but Gabe didn’t know that. She shrugged. ‘I don’t see that I have much choice. You’re not interested. I came here to learn. Why would it bother you? It would let you off the hook. You can spend all day lazing around in coffee shops.’
Gabe glared at her. ‘I won’t have you upsetting Haruka. She’s been very good to me.’ His mouth crumpled mutinously before he asked. ‘What is it you want from me?’
Fiona felt the tension ease in her shoulders as triumph streamed through, at the same time as a little bump of disappointment that he so readily believed she was prepared to be that ruthless. She never would have done something like that. But then Gabe had never known her; she’d just been one of
a multitude of students and the impact he’d made on her far eclipsed hers on him. Her overheated hormones and imagination had created a magical, romantic connection between them which had all been in her silly head. The familiar shame threatened to derail her thoughts and she reined them back.
‘To teach me. To mentor me. To listen to my ideas. Would any of that really kill you?’
‘No. I guess not,’ he said quietly, pausing to snatch at the sugar sachet, scrunching it up in his palm and staring beyond her through the window before saying with candid honesty, ‘I’m used to doing my own thing. It’s years since I taught and my commissions tend to be commercial these days rather than private. They don’t require much of me.’ The face he pulled suggested that he was disappointed with the latter.
‘Is that by choice?’ she asked, her tone much gentler.
He focused on her face, sudden light in his eyes as if he’d woken up and was now not just awake but wide awake. With a shrug, he took another sugar sachet out of the pot on the table and tapped on the surface. She imagined the grains inside tumbling over themselves in a rush to greet gravity and recognised it as a delaying tactic. She didn’t fill the silence.
Instead she leaned back in her chair and surveyed his handsome face and the lines around his mouth that deepened as he talked.
‘Yes.’ He rubbed at one eyebrow. ‘Commercial commissions usually have very fixed ideas about what they want. The piper plays the tune and I don’t enjoy that. And teaching … I find all that energy and enthusiasm exhausting. Always thinking they’ve invented a new wheel. Does that answer your question?’ She felt a rush of disappointment in him which must have showed because he adopted a mocking smile and asked, ‘Nothing to say?’
She shook her head. What had changed? What had changed him from the vibrant, excitable man overflowing with enthusiasm and seize-the-moment drive that she remembered. There had been a time when you could feel the fizz of his energy, when he could barely keep still because he was bursting with ideas and impatient to move on to the next thing.
