by Isobel Chace
“Perhaps rounding up cattle is even more exhausting,” he suggested.
She blushed slightly at that, but she didn’t resent it. “I’ll make some toast too,” she said shyly.
He stood leaning against one of the posts that supported the house watching her as she cooked the meal. She couldn’t see what he was thinking; his navy blue eyes were shielded as usual by his hooded brows, but she found that she liked him there. It was fun cooking for him in the early hours of the morning.
She broke the eggs into the pan and waited for them to set, flipping them over, American fashion, to make them cook more speedily. While she did so, he took two plates and ran them under the hot water to warm them. He moved easily around the kitchen as though he were accustomed to being there.
“That’s the one snag of Japanese life,” he said suddenly, almost as though he had read her thoughts; “a man can seldom do anything like this for himself. I rather enjoy pottering in the kitchen every now and again, but no Japanese girl would ever hear of such a thing. When the Americans were here, the girls were sometimes told that the men helped with the washing-up and what have you, but even Yoshiko firmly dismissed that as anti-American propaganda put about by the Communists!”
Jonquil thought about that.
“She’s much more Japanese than American, isn’t she?” she said at last.
Jason nodded.
“She’s part of modern Japan,” he agreed; “part of the Japan that I love.”
She wouldn’t allow herself to think about that statement. This was an hour of her life that was apart from any other, when she wouldn’t think about anything that she didn’t want to.
“Where are we going to eat this?” she asked him.
He grinned and pointed at the low kitchen table, where Nobuku sliced up the meat and vegetables, sitting on the floor in front of it.
“Over there,” he said.
She carried the eggs over carefully and put them out on the plates, arranging them neatly with the bacon to make them look nice, while Jason found some knives and forks and a dish of butter.
“We should have made some tea,” he said. “One should never eat eggs without either tea or coffee.”
“It’s not too late,” she protested, but she couldn’t find a kettle. For a moment she hesitated, wondering what to do, but then she saw a saucepan and filled that with water instead, putting it on the hot plate to boil.
From somewhere he had produced two cushions and they sat sideways on them and ate their eggs. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was all part of this strange meal, making it different from any other that Jonquil had ever had.
She had finished some time before Jason and went to wash her plate under the tap, yawning sleepily. The hot tea had had exactly the opposite effect from that it was supposed to have. Far from waking her up, it had made her sleepier than ever. She stood idly watching the water course down the plate in little rivulets over the fat, gradually winning the battle, as it grew hotter, until the plate was clean.
“Have you always lived in Japan?” she asked. “Ever since the end of the war.”
She yawned again, drying up her plate and putting it away.
“You’d better get off to bed,” he told her, his voice amused. “I’ll finish up here.”
“Certainly not!” she retorted. “I should never be able to hold up my head in Japan again!”
He shook his head regretfully at her.
“I have you there,” he said. “Obedience is the first of the womanly virtues. So get off with you.” She was too tired to argue any more. He smiled down at her and she smiled back. She liked the way he smiled immensely, the way his eyes just crinkled at the edges.
“Goodnight,” she said.
He picked up his plate and went over to the sink.
“Goodnight,” he said. “Sleep well.”
She crept through the house, pausing at Alexander’s door to make sure he was sleeping, sliding it softly back and gliding over to him to tuck him up more firmly in his bedclothes. It was more difficult sliding the door shut again without waking him, but she managed it and then went to her room.
It didn’t take long to undress and get into bed. It was wonderful to lie full length on the mattress and feel it supporting her. She put one hand out and brushed the floor with her fingers. It was rather nice being so low on the floor, she thought, and snuggled down against the pillow.
There was someone talking in the kitchen. She could just hear the low murmur of voices in the distance. For a moment she wondered who it would be, but then she heard Yoshiko’s laughter.
“Oh, Jason, how I love you!”
With an impatient movement, Jonquil brought the bedclothes up over her ears and determinedly settled down for sleep.
It was unseemly, Jonquil thought, for anyone to be quite so bright quite so early in the morning. She opened one eye and saw Yoshiko’s smiling face within a few inches from her own.
“Is it time to get up already?” she asked.
“I brought you a cup of tea,” Yoshiko told her cheerfully. “Jason says that he is going to take you to a tea ceremony, so it is very important that you look your best, no? I came to talk over with you what you were going to wear.”
Jonquil looked at her with astonishment.
“Would you rather go with him yourself?” she asked.
Yoshiko shrugged her shoulders.
“Of course not. I have been many times, and besides, I am not very fond of Mitchi Boko, you know. It is much better that I should stay here with Alexander. Taki might call this morning, to take me round to greet my father. He—he wants to speak to him himself first, though. That is why I am not going to meet him.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and then smiled again. “Jason has been so good to me!” she breathed.
“Yes, I suppose he has,” Jonquil agreed woodenly.
Yoshiko looked surprised.
“He has told you?” she asked, her face flushing with pleasure.
Jonquil shook her head.
“No,” she said. “He hasn’t told me anything. I guessed, mostly.”
To her amazement Yoshiko bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Then you can see why I am so happy!” she exclaimed. “I never would have believed that such a thing would have been possible for me! If only my father agrees. You do think he will, don’t you, Jonquil.”
“I’m sure he will,” Jonquil agreed. She sat up and sipped her tea, enjoying the hot liquid as it slid down her throat.
“Are families very important in America?” Yoshiko asked.
“I imagine so.”
“But not so important as here in Japan.”
“I don’t know,” Jonquil admitted, wondering where all this was leading. “I should think much the same as in Australia. We consider our families important.”
Yoshiko looked curiously thoughtful.
“It might be very difficult,” she sighed. Then as suddenly she was cheerful again. “But we must decide what you will wear!” she exclaimed.
“I thought I’d wear my green dress,” Jonquil put in humbly, but Yoshiko firmly shook her head.
“You need something grander,” she said. “Everyone will be dressed in their best kimonos.
“But I can’t sit on the floor in a tight skirt,’ Jonquil objected.
Yoshiko considered that.
“No,” she agreed reluctantly. “But you must be very smart.” A twinkle came into her eyes. “Jason will want you to look your best,” she said slyly.
Jonquil wondered that the other girl should also want it, but she said nothing.
“I know exactly!” Yoshiko went on. “You must wear your grey dress with the white collar.”
This was a good choice, for the colour reflected the stormy grey of Jonquil’s eyes, making them seem even darker if possible. She nodded gravely, a little amused by Yoshiko’s excitement.
“It’s nice of you to take so much interest,” she began.
“It is fun!” Yoshiko told her,
brushing away her thanks. “Give me the dress and I shall iron it for you.”
It took Jonquil a long time to get ready. Alexander joined with Yoshiko to make sure that everything was to his satisfaction, even down to her nail varnish.
“I wish I could come too,” he sighed. “You know, I like you, Jonquil. You’re nice. Mummy liked you too. Will you be home to lunch?”
“I expect so.” She was rather touched by his sudden affection. “I rather like you too, Alexander,” she said.
He flung his arms round her neck and hugged her tightly.
“Will you stay here for ever?” he demanded.
“Not for ever,” she said uncertainly. “I shall have to go home to Australia to see my father and mother, but perhaps one day you’ll be able to come and see me there.”
“That’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I like to see you every day. I’ll talk to Uncle Jason about it. He’s very good at arranging things, you know.”
“At arranging what?” his uncle asked, coming into the living room where they were all standing at that moment.
“Jonquil doesn’t think she’ll stay here always,” Alexander wailed. “She says she’ll have to go back to Australia. But why can’t she live with us always?”
Jason picked the small boy up and tossed him into the air, catching him again with the greatest of ease.
“We’ll have to see what can be managed,” he laughed. “It may be rather difficult, but you never know your luck!”
Immediately Alexander was all smiles.
“You see, Jonquil?” he chuckled.
Jonquil tried to look disapproving, but failed completely.
“You shouldn’t promise things you can’t perform,” she said a little smugly to Jason, but he only grinned.
“I’m not nearly the fool you think me,” he told her. It was a curiously unsettling remark. To start with it didn’t mean anything. She tried to dismiss it as casually as it had been said, but she could not. It lingered in her mind, exciting her with its teasing possibilities.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked her, putting Alexander back on his own feet.
“Yes,” she agreed, suddenly shy of him.
“Don’t you like her dress?” Yoshiko asked. “It took us so long to decide what she should wear. The guests of honour must always wear their best!”
“The guests of honour?” Jonquil repeated.
“You,” Jason smiled. “Did you imagine that I was going to take you as anything less?”
Jonquil swallowed. She thought desperately that she should have read up about tea ceremonies, or at any rate have asked Yoshiko what was expected of her. She must have looked as anxious as she felt, for Yoshiko said soothingly: “Jason will show you what to do. All you have to remember is to admire everything and then you will be very much respected for your taste.” Jonquil caught the smile that flickered between Yoshiko and Jason.
“I refuse to be laughed at,” she protested demurely. “It will be your fault if I disgrace you.”
Jason laughed.
“Come on,” he said, “or we’ll be late.”
They went in a northerly direction, keeping close to the Kamo River and up by the Botanical Gardens. The river appeared like an enormous factory, for here, as well as in Osaka, long lengths of cloth were being rinsed in the waters and then spread out to dry alongside the river. They passed a number of peasant women, dressed in the long bloomer-like trousers that they wore in the fields, carrying baskets of flowers and vegetables on their heads, taking them into the town to be sold. Several shrines, with their giant Torii, caught their attention, the distinctive arches proclaiming that here was a place of prayer.
Then suddenly Jason turned off right towards the Takara Pond and came to a halt outside a large and very old house.
“Here we are,” he said. “Like it?”
Jonquil’s eyes drank in the peculiar beauty of the house. The roof was straight, making it look almost Western, and the timbers were old, very old, giving it a taste of the Elizabethan. It was quite unlike any other house that she had seen in Japan.
“It’s all Japanese inside,” Jason told her. “Perhaps we’ll be able to persuade the owner to show you over it.”
“But doesn’t it belong to Mitchi Boko’s family?” Jonquil asked. “I thought she was presiding over the tea ceremony.”
“She is,” he assured her. “But the house belongs to Kanaya-san. Boko’s family couldn’t afford anything like this.”
He led the way through the gate into the garden, the most lovely garden that Jonquil had ever seen. The lawns were a beautiful smooth green, the trees a fiery red, and chrysanthemums, large, small, in every possible colour, were everywhere, splashed by a little waterfall that was fed by a small stream that wandered through the garden, seemingly at will.
And then there were the people, the men in their darker kimonos, bowing politely to one another, and the women in their stiff, lavishly coloured kimonos, with contrasting obis, and some of them even with the traditional parasols. They looked quite lovely in the October sunshine, taking away Jonquil’s breath and reducing her to silence. It is not often that reality exceeds one’s dreams, but this was more than Jonquil had ever imagined, even in her most colourful flights of fancy, when she had dreamed of Japan. This was, in its way, perfection.
One man excused himself from the group he was talking to and came over to them, bowing first to Jason and then to her. She had learned enough to clasp her hands in front of her and bow in return, and when she did so his face broke into a delighted smile and he began to say something in rapid Japanese to Jason.
“He says that his garden has always been waiting for your beauty to come and give it meaning,” Jason translated for her.
Jonquil blushed vividly.
“Oh,” she murmured, completely tongue-tied by such a compliment. But apparently that was all that was expected of her, for her host’s eyes twinkled kindly at her and he smiled again.
“Should I have said anything in return?” she asked Jason when he had moved off.
“You might have accused him of flattery,” he suggested with amusement, “but your silence was much prettier!”
She laughed with him, the colour still coming and going in her cheeks.
“It was so unexpected,” she said. “I never thought that anyone would ever say such a lovely thing to me!”
“I shall have to see what I can do,” he told her, “for you do look very beautiful—especially when you look as though you’ve fallen into fairyland by mistake.”
She knew that she ought to tell him to keep his compliments for Yoshiko, but the garden had cast a spell on her and she wasn’t able to. She cast him a half-laughing, half-embarrassed look and smiled.
“You look pretty good too,” she said shyly. “I’m very proud to be with you. You look so— so—Oh, I can’t explain what I mean,” she finished hurriedly as the only words that occurred to her, though expressing her meaning exactly, were not quite what she felt she, should be saying to him.
He looked down at her, now openly amused.
“It will keep,” he suggested. “You can tell me later, when we know each other a little better. Come and meet some of these people.”
The good manners of the Japanese were strangely exhilarating. They gave Jonquil the impression that they thought her beautiful and very talented, that it didn’t matter in the least that she couldn’t speak their language, that it was much more fun having to wait for her answer to come through Jason. They were subtly flattering and quite charming.
“Have you been to a tea ceremony before?” they asked her, and then, when she confessed that she hadn’t, they smiled and congratulated her, honouring her that she should have thought that their poor little effort was a worthy introduction to such a noble pastime.
They showed her the special house in the garden where the tea ceremony would take place, and taught her to say “Cha noyu”, laughing with gay, bubbling laughter at her less worthy attempts.
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br /> Then at last everything was ready and they went into the ante-room of the tea pavilion to await the gong that would summon them to wash their hands and to proceed humbly into the cha-shitsu, the room specially reserved for the ceremony. The ante-room itself was not very spectacular, but the atmosphere of anticipation gradually built up so that it was almost a relief when the gong went and they could finally pass through the open doorway, a small, low entrance that Jason had to bend almost double to get through.
Mitchi Boko stood at one end of the room and one by one the guests went up to congratulate her on the arrangement of the room. Jonquil waited her turn and smiled across at the Japanese girl.
“Ah, Jonquil!” she exclaimed. “I am so happy that you come. Afterwards you come out with me, yes?”
Jonquil hesitated.
“I must get back to Alexander,” she apologized. Mitchi Boko looked distressed and bit her lip. “I am so ashamed,” she said. “It would be much better for you to come, no?”
“You may as well go,” Jason told her gently. “I can look after Alex.”
“But it’s not right,” Jonquil protested. “I must do my job sometimes.”
“Call it your day off,” he drawled.
“Oh, yes, Jonquil. You come?” Boko smiled eagerly.
There were other guests waiting behind her, so Jonquil nodded her head quickly.
“Thank you very much,” she murmured.
They went back down the room and were handed some delightful little cakes by Kanaya-san’s daughters.
“I don’t think I really ought to go,” she said to Jason. “You and Yoshiko spoil me.”
“Janet told us to make sure that you saw as much of the country as possible,” he returned. “Mitchi Boko should give you quite a good time.” He broke off to talk to one of the other guests, and so Jonquil didn’t like to take the argument any further, but stood and nibbled at her rice cake instead.
She was amused to notice that those cakes that were not eaten were solemnly wrapped up in paper napkins and given to the guests to take home with them. But there was still no sign of any tea!
At length everyone made their way back into the garden. Jonquil cast Jason a look of enquiry and saw his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.
