The Little Teashop in Tokyo

by Julie Caplin

  But it was too late, whatever her head was telling her; that stupid organ which was supposed to be responsible for pumping blood around her body had other flaming ideas.

  Mortified, she stood as a flush of heat raced through her body, staining her cheeks, leaving her hot and very bothered. She moved towards the balcony and laid a cheek against the cold glass. What the hell was she going to do? She’d made a complete fool of herself over Gabe Burnett once before; she absolutely could not do it again.

  And as if it wasn’t bad enough that she was as punch drunk as if a thunderbolt had come back for a second hit, Gabe swung his camera her way and took a shot.

  ‘What are you doing?’ her voice came out screechy and panicky.

  ‘Sorry, I thought the shutter was sticking a bit; I wanted a test shot. Don’t worry it’s completely out of focus and there’s too much light behind you.’

  Relief almost made her knees buckle. God knows what might have shown on her face. From now on she was going to have to be very careful around Gabe, so she didn’t give anything away. This wasn’t love, just infatuation, and it would go as soon as she could get away from him. She only had to survive the next week. And surely she could come up with plenty of strategies to avoid him. Spend a day in the teashop with Setsuko. And she had the tea ceremony with Haruka. That left the trip to Mount Fuji, but hopefully now she knew what she was up against she could erect some barriers and keep her guard up, maintain a healthy distance etc. etc.

  ‘Fi, are you listening?’

  She blushed again, realising that both Gabe and Ken were staring at her.

  ‘Sorry, I’m a bit light headed.’ Which actually was the truth. Her pulse was just returning to normal.

  Ken jumped up from the sofa and Gabe took her elbow and guided her to sit down. Seconds later the actor was pushing a glass of water into her hand and Gabe was crouched in front of her, holding one of her hands. ‘You’re a little flushed, are you okay?’

  Oh heck. Her throat was so tight with embarrassment she couldn’t say a word. Gratefully she took the glass and tried to shake her other hand free from Gabe’s. The warm touch of his skin and the concern in his eyes wasn’t doing her any good at all. He squeezed her hand, not letting go. ‘Have some water. There, that’s it.’ Even his voice sounded worried.

  Taking a sip, she managed to say, ‘I’m fine.’ Now she was even more mortified with both men staring anxiously at her. ‘Honestly I’m fine.’

  ‘Sit there for a moment.’

  ‘But I’m holding you—’

  ‘I’m pretty much all done.’

  ‘That’s what I like about working with you, Gabe. Quick and dirty, get the job done.’

  ‘It’s not always that easy,’ said Gabe with feeling. ‘Thanks for the support.’

  Fiona was aware of a presence in the doorway and she turned to see a beautiful, slight woman, standing with an amused smile on her face, poised and waiting to be spotted. ‘They’re good people,’ said Ken, unaware of the woman behind them. ‘a bit … how do you say it?’ He lifted his palms upwards.

  ‘Keen,’ said Gabe with another roll of his eyes. He hadn’t seen her either.

  ‘But doing their jobs, like you and me.’

  The woman’s eyes had now narrowed and her lips had flattened, the expectant smile dimming. Fiona could see her displeasure in the way her hand slid to her hip and in the petulant tilt of head.

  ‘You’re a better man than I am,’ said Gabe.

  ‘I’ve got too many people ready to run me down if I’m not,’ replied Ken, with weary grin.

  ‘That’s the price of being in the public eye.’ Gabe raised both eyebrows.

  Ouch, she really did not look happy. Fiona tried to catch Gabe’s eye but he was now showing Ken the shots and with their heads together they were murmuring and discussing the pictures Gabe had taken.

  The woman had taken a couple of steps forwards and had paused, posing again. Fiona tried to smile at her but the woman wasn’t interested in her – all her attention, sharp and eerily focused, was on Gabe. She watched him with possessive hunger, her mouth pinched now. Her pose, initially relaxed with feline assurance, had stiffened with anger and irritation.

  ‘Er … Gabe,’ said Fiona, fidgeting in her seat, loathe to stand up. Next to this tiny slender fairy creature, she was like a towering colossus and, as she acknowledged the thought, her heart plummeted to the bottom of the ocean with a total sense of hopelessness. Gabe was totally out of reach, she knew that. This was the sort of woman he went for.

  ‘Mmm?’ he said, still absorbed in his camera.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor.’

  ‘What?’ He finally lifted his head. Yumi glowered at him.

  ‘Yumi! What are you doing here?’

  Suddenly she was all gracious smiles. ‘You said you were doing the shoot with Ken. And I finished earlier than I expected so I thought I’d come over and say hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ he said, clearly a little bemused. ‘Ken, this is Yumi Mimura.’

  ‘We’ve met before. Her smile was sultry as he bowed to her. ‘And it’s Yumi Mitoki now. I’m married to Meiko Mitoki.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Ken with practised ease, as if he was used to people claiming they knew him. ‘Of course, and I do know your husband.’

  ‘We met at the studios. I had a screen test. For your last film. But the producer and I agreed it wasn’t quite the right role for my career. Gabe san, we can go to dinner earlier. As I finished quicker than I thought I’ve changed the reservation.’

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Er … well, I need to get tidied up here. And … oh, this is Fiona, remember I told you about her?’

  Yumi didn’t bother slinking over to make her acquaintance, Fiona noted. Instead she cast her a sidelong look and gave her a quick bow before moving with tiny steps to take her place next to Gabe, staking her claim.

  ‘Fiona, this is Yumi. She’s … er … she’s …’

  Fiona took pity on him and despite Yumi’s frigid indifference, she said in a friendly voice, ‘Hi, I’ve seen your pictures. They’re very beautiful.’

  For a moment, the other woman preened at the compliment and then, as if a thought had struck her, she narrowed her eyes. ‘In Gabe’s studio?’ she snapped, shooting a glare Gabe’s way.

  ‘In the Photography Museum in Toyko.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Placated, she gave Fiona a benevolent nod, like a queen accepting her due. Then she turned to Gabe, laying a hand on his arm, the pale slim fingers contrasting with his blue chambray shirt and the facets of the fine-cut Tiffany diamond of her engagement ring catching the light and sparkling like stars.

  ‘I’ve made reservations at Kikunoi. Ken, perhaps you’d like to join us? I’m sure they could squeeze you in.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement, but thank you for the invitation.’

  Gabe’s mouth tightened and he busied himself with packing his cameras away in the foam-padded boxes. Now that her legs were steadier, Fiona stood up and began to fold the light reflector back into the big nylon bag.

  Ken said his goodbyes and Gabe wished him luck with facing his entourage.

  ‘I hope they forgive you,’ he teased. Ken smiled and bowed, backing out of the room.

  ‘Well, that went well,’ said Gabe to Fiona. ‘The feature’s appearing in The Sunday Times in about six weeks. We’ll work on the pictures in the studio when we get back tomorrow and you can tell me which ones you’d pick.’

  ‘I think I know,’ said Fiona, thinking of the shots Gabe had taken when Ken had burst out laughing.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Gabe teased.

  ‘Gabe,’ Yumi slid a tiny arm through his. ‘You’re ignoring me.’ She added a coy pout, like a little girl.

  ‘I’m still working.’ He gently disengaged her hand and bent down to pack away an unused tripod. ‘And I did say I’d let you know about dinner.’

  She gave him a beguiling smile as he straightened again, her face tilted up to his. ‘
You’ve got to eat and what else are you going to do? Meiko’s away again and I’m all on my own. I’m always on my own.’ Sadness filled her pretty face and even Fiona had to admit she felt sorry for the woman.

  ‘Well …’ Gabe’s face filled with uncertainty. ‘I …’

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Fiona said, seeing that he was torn. ‘I’m quite happy to get room service. They’ve got really good Wi-Fi here; I can do a few bits on my blog and catch up.’

  ‘I’m sure Kikunoi could … um … stretch to a table for three,’ said Gabe.

  Fiona just about managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Duh! Why the hell would she want to tag along and invite comparisons between her and Yumi? And why would he want her to when he could have the beautiful Japanese woman all to himself?’

  ‘You go ahead.’

  ‘Are you sure? It’s a great restaurant.’

  ‘The table is for two. It will be very difficult to change the reservation.’ Yumi had completely forgotten that not even ten minutes ago she’d extended an invitation to Ken, which made Fiona bite her lips in amusement.

  ‘I really don’t mind.’ She quite fancied getting some fresh air and going for a stroll. She might even be really brave and challenge herself to check out a local restaurant.

  ‘See, she doesn’t mind.’ Yumi shrugged as if there’d never been any other outcome.

  Still, thought Fiona, it might have been nice if Gabe had put a bit more effort into at least trying to be polite about it.

  Chapter 15

  Thoughts of Gabe buzzed around her head and it was a relief to get out of the hotel and breathe in some fresh air. Staying in her room for the evening would have driven her even more crazy. The determination to maximise her time, almost as much as not wanting to be left alone with her turbulent thoughts, had driven her out to eat by herself, instead of taking the easy option of ordering room service or going down to the hotel restaurant. She wanted an authentic experience and it would make the subject of a good blog post, one that she could write up on her phone during the experience.

  How the hell could she have fallen in love with him? It was just lust, wasn’t it? Over excited hormones, she tried to persuade herself. He was gorgeous. It was a given. But Fiona knew with a leaden, sinking sensation that what she felt for Gabe went deeper than that. It eclipsed anything she’d ever felt before and put her youthful crush on him into the shade.

  Oh God, what had she done? And what was she going to do about it? A wry smile touched her lips. Maybe she should go for the kiss-first-ask-questions-later strategy again but sadly that impetuosity and daring no longer resided within her.

  Striding along the street, reliving every moment of his hands delving into her hair, she tried to take note of the landmarks so that she could find her way back rather than dwell on the moment when she’d thought he might kiss her. Keep your mind on the street, Fiona. She glanced at the map the kind receptionist at the hotel had marked with a few suggested places to eat.

  What would Gabe say if she kissed him now? Today he’d been so approachable until bloody Yumi had appeared on the scene. She was so lost in thought she realised she’d missed the street she was aiming for and cannoned into someone when she turned to retrace her steps. The man bowed good naturedly and she held up her hands in apology.

  Gosh, what a contrast to the way she’d felt when she’d been on her own after losing Gabe at Shibuya and the fear that she’d always feel hopelessly lost and out of place. Japan would always feel very different but she was enjoying and embracing the differences now, even as she looked ahead at the unfamiliar street scene. One of the best things about the country was how incredibly safe it felt and although not many people spoke English there seemed to be a willingness to help.

  She stopped to stare in a window full of plastic models of the dishes, including a very authentic-looking bowl of soup and noodles. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such a display; it seemed quite a common thing in Japan and quite handy given the language barrier. When she checked the name of the restaurant she realised she’d stumbled upon the very place she’d been trying to find, and when Fiona peered in through the door, it was busy but not too crowded, with a mix of Japanese and Western tourists, which gave her hope that the menu might be in English. She wished Gabe was with her; he knew his way around Japanese food.

  She was greeted with a bow by a very young man who didn’t bat an eyelid at her solitary status when she asked for a table for one by holding up an index finger. He replied in English with a mischievous smile, ‘Follow me,’ leading her to a corner booth where she could look out and people watch but she wasn’t completely conspicuous. He was rewarded for his thoughtfulness with a warm smile and she ordered an Asahi beer. Already her stomach was turning over at the smells. It had been a long time since the bento box and Kit-Kat on the train.

  Her drink, when it arrived, hit the spot and she savoured the first malty mouthful of the pale golden beer. Just what the doctor ordered. She looked at the menu, none of which meant very much to her. With a decisive flick of her wrist, she put her menu down and caught the eye of the waiter.

  ‘Excuse me. What’s the best thing on the menu?’

  He beamed with pleasure. ‘Tonkotsu ramen. Very good.’

  ‘Can you tell me what’s in it?’ She didn’t want any nasty surprises.

  ‘Finest noodles. Made with best quality flour, fresh every day. Noodles rinsed five times.’ She assumed that was to keep the water fresh and starch free.

  ‘Noodles are served in natural pork bone soup. Bones are simmered for six hours for best flavour and skimmed for exquisite clarity. Then we add dashi.’ At her frown of incomprehension, he explained, ‘A very special recipe, only two people in kitchen know this. Super special fish stock which is added to broth. Then noodles, pork slices and the red sauce. Red sauce is unique to restaurant, blend of thirty spices and red pepper, mixed and aged for days and nights. Very secret recipe. Very spicy. Very good.’ He finished with a proud bow.

  ‘That sounds perfect.’ Fiona smiled at him, impressed by his enthusiasm and delight in the food. When she looked around the restaurant, it did seem that most people were pulling noodles from large bowls with their chopsticks so she guessed tonkotsu ramen was the house speciality.

  Before her meal arrived, the waiter brought a ceramic candle holder with a small tea light which was placed in front of her with careful, attentive ceremony and a characteristic bow. Immediately afterwards, the steaming broth arrived and was placed over the candle with more solicitude; she got the impression that it was really important to the waiter that she enjoyed this meal as he bowed once again and left her to it. Even in a restaurant, she felt like an honoured guest. It heightened the experience and made her aware of the need to appreciate the food in a way that she wouldn’t have at home. Before she started, she took a moment to inhale the delicate fragrance of meat and the mix of spices. Her mouth watered as she admired the solid, glazed earthenware bowl in rich russets which seemed to enhance the appearance of the food. So much thought and care were always taken, she realised. There was a real respect for ingredients and the way food was prepared and presented.

  Although it would have been nice to have Gabe with her, there was something rather comforting about a piping hot bowl of soup and noodles – or rather ramen as she ought to call it. Gripping her chopsticks, which she had become a little more adept with, she took a healthy pinch of ramen and with more appetite than grace slurped them up. They were soft but not soggy and had a very slight bite to them, and they had absorbed the light flavour of the meaty broth. With a little greedy moan she picked up another chopstick full and gulped down a mouthful. Then she took some from the middle where the red sauce had been added – although she’d have called it more of a deep auburn – prepared for it to be hot. To her relief, the spicy combination didn’t burn her tongue or shoot her socks off; it was indeed very spicy – hotter than she was used to, causing a sheen of sweat to break out on her forehead – but i
t was the kind of spice that warmed and heated gradually with an expansion of flavours that swirled around the mouth – a touch of chilli, a smattering of cinnamon, a punch of ginger and lots of black pepper. She closed her eyes, savouring the delicious warming sensation spreading through her. Heaven in a bowl, she decided.

  There was something rather decadent and indulgent about enjoying food on your own, she decided, as she finished the last dregs of the broth, tipping the bowl up a little self-consciously but copying the other diners. She felt nourished, fortified, and full of wellbeing but above all, proud of herself for going out by herself and not staying in and indulging in self-pity. Perhaps ramen was the answer. Special insulation for the heart. A bowl of that every day and she could cope with seeing Gabe for the next week.

  A week wasn’t so very long, was it?

  Chapter 16

  Gabe met her in reception the following morning ready for the journey back, crumpled and worn as if he’d not had much sleep.

  In contrast, she felt fresh and bright, her night out having given her a boost of confidence. Going out to eat by herself was not something she’d have ever thought she could do. And not only had she got through it, she’d genuinely enjoyed the experience. She’d also had an early night and after returning from the restaurant had updated her blog, posting some of the tourist pictures she’d taken and a write up about the amazing digital museum. She’d also pondered writing a piece about meeting one of Japan’s most famous film stars and how down-to-earth and normal he’d been, but she wasn’t sure if that might get Gabe into trouble.

  Now she wished she had as she examined his slightly dishevelled appearance.

  ‘Good night?’ she asked with a hint of acid. She was allowed to disapprove, she told herself, unable to keep at bay the slick eel of jealousy that wormed around in her stomach. Yumi was a married woman.

  He winced. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, pleased at his quick flicker of surprise but he didn’t say anything. Instead he hauled up his baggage, leaving the black reflector bag for her to carry, and headed out of the hotel.