Julie Caplin - The Little Teashop in Tokyo

She knew that because she had done some mugging up. She just hadn’t expected it from him. ‘You get used to it very quickly. They also love a business card. If you’re offered one, make sure you take it with both hands and treat it like a revered object. Whatever you do don’t stuff it into your pocket. Make sure you put it carefully in your purse, wallet or whatever. Treat it with respect. They’re big on respect in Japan.’

‘Right,’ she said, bemused by his deluge of information. She remembered him as being rather reticent and a man of few words, although expansive when he was talking about his work. But then, she hadn’t seen him for ten years. And she’d certainly changed – hugely – in that time. With a sudden smile, she remembered Avril’s last words to her before she’d dropped her at the airport. ‘Quit the wallflower act. No one knows you there, be who you want to be.’ Which was great in theory, especially when you were a super-confident breakfast TV reporter married to the love of your life and had the most adorable two-year-old. Since their press trip to Copenhagen, Avril had become one of Fiona’s closest friends.

‘This your stuff?’ asked Gabe interrupting her reverie.

She nodded lifting her chin slightly. She wasn’t eighteen any more.

‘You travel light.’ He raised an eyebrow in question. ‘This all you have?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘That’ll make it easier on the monorail.’ And with that he took charge of what she thought was a huge case and led the way.

Packing for two weeks for a place you’d never been to before had been a minefield, saved only by Avril coming to the rescue with benign bullying. If Fiona had stuck to her original wardrobe plans of jeans and T-shirts her case would have been half the size.

Keeping up with Gabe, weaving through the crowds and taking in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds, took all of her concentration and it wasn’t until they were waiting for the monorail, standing in the painted queue lines laid out on the platform, that she had time to catch up with herself.

‘Erm … it’s very nice of you to meet me.’

Gabe’s face fell a little and his voice dropped so she could only just hear it. ‘Ah, yes. There’s been a slight hitch in the plans. Unfortunately, Yutaka Araki has had a family bereavement and had to return home to Niseko. I’m afraid you’re going to have to make do with me.’ There was a sardonic twist to his mouth before he added, ‘I’m quite well qualified.’

Irritated by the sudden quickening of her pulse and that cocky confidence, she glared at him. ‘And I’m well aware of who you are Mr Burnett,’ she said, having to lean closer to hear him.

‘Mr Burnett. Ouch. That’s put me in my place and made me sound like I’m a hundred and three as well.’ He laughed quietly

She gritted her teeth to stop herself from pointing out that she knew exactly how old he was.

‘Anyway. I’m sorry about Yutaka but it really couldn’t be helped. The university contacted me – I used to teach there – and they asked if I could step in. I know Professor Kobashi, who runs the programme here in Tokyo, and his wife; they’re actually my landlords. I rent my apartment and studio from them. Anyway, if you’re really desperate to meet Yutaka, he might be back at the end of your stay.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do fine,’ said Fiona, surprising herself with her boldness but adopting his lowered tone as she hissed, ‘As you said, you’re quite well qualified.’

Instead of being offended, he grinned at her. ‘Nothing like being put in my place, again.’

‘I imagine it doesn’t happen very often,’ she said dryly before she could stop the words coming out of her mouth. Was she teasing Gabe Burnett?

With a wry smile, he turned and examined her face as if looking at her properly for the first time. It was impossible to hide or retreat, not when he was standing right beside her. ‘I’m not that insufferable, you know. You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.’ His eyes studied hers and for a moment she imagined there was more to what he was saying. There had been a period when his photo had appeared in the papers almost as much as his own photographs were featured. Young models had been his favourite props.

‘I rarely read the papers. My friend Kate used to work in PR and she says most of it is made up, and my friend Avril works in breakfast TV and usually knows the truth behind the gossip.’

‘Sensible,’ he said. ‘So why Japan?’

Maybe it was the approving look he gave her or the fact that he clearly had no recollection of her, but she drew out the little ivory netsuke from her pocket. ‘This.’

He immediately put a finger out to stroke the smooth flank. ‘May I?’

She handed it over. ‘It was my father’s. He died when I was a baby and I found it when I was six. I had no idea what it was until my granny told me. A netsuke . He bought it in an antique shop when he was a boy and had always wanted to go to Japan as a result. He never got there. When I heard about the competition …’ She shrugged as he gave it back to her. It settled with a reassuring thud in her pocket, a small lump nestled against her thigh.

‘Sentimental but nice. You’ll get a real flavour of the country in Tokyo.’ For a moment, his smile was wistful. ‘It’s a country of contrasts: flash, modern, innovative, ridiculously neon and technological, all of which resides alongside a deep appreciation and respect for art, culture, and tradition. I’ve never lived anywhere quite like it before.’

‘You live here?’

‘Between here and London.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be staying with the Kobashi family.’ Again there was that wry smile. ‘Professor Kobashi’s wife Haruka is lovely and rather interesting. She’s a master of tea.’

Fiona straightened with sudden interest. ‘I love my tea. One of the things I really want to do is go to a tea ceremony, although I’ve no idea what it involves.’

‘Well you’ll be in the right place. She’s the expert. She and her daughter own a teashop where she holds ceremonies. They live above it.’

‘Really.’ Fiona’s eyes shone. One of her favourite possessions was a little pottery narrow-spouted teapot with a bamboo handle. She loved the delicacy and simplicity of the design that was as much functional as beautiful. Letting her guard down and forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to have met him before, she smiled warmly at him, straight into his grey eyes. He was still a very handsome man.

‘Hmm,’ said Gabe, stiffening and turning his head away as if she’d got a bit too close or something. His jaw hardened as he stared across the crowded platform.

She pushed her hands into her pockets, one finger stroking the netsuke . His withdrawal had been subtle but definite. There was a hardness in her chest as if she’d swallowed a whole brick of wholemeal bread. Tall, gawky girls like her weren’t Gabe Burnett’s type but he didn’t need to make it quite so obvious. She knew he went for glossy, glamorous, pint-size brunettes who exuded confidence from every last pore. Before his move to Japan a few years ago, his love-life had been well documented in the tabloids.

‘If you like that sort of thing,’ he said dismissively glancing down at his watch. ‘All a bit tedious when you’ve seen it before. One for the tourists.’

‘Just as well I am a tourist,’ Fiona bit out, annoyed by his attitude.

‘Which reminds me, have you got your Japan Rail pass?’

‘Yes.’ The little she had managed to read up on before she came had recommended buying one in advance, and hers had been sent through with her plane tickets.

Gabe didn’t say anything as the monorail glided into the station. When they boarded, Fiona turned to say something to Gabe, but even before he put his finger to his lips the hush of the carriage registered. She peered around. It appeared that in Japan people didn’t talk on the trains. Gabe had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through something, so she copied him and they spent the rest of the journey in rather convenient silence.