The Little Teashop in Tokyo

Her hostess drew a few more of the sliding doors open and then led them up another wooden staircase to a series of rooms all divided by the same paper and wooden doors. Gabe carried Fiona’s case for her and they finally came to a small square room containing a futon on the floor. Haruka raised the bamboo blinds to reveal a balcony that ran the full length of the back of the house, overlooking a very pretty zen-style garden.

‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ exclaimed Fiona, clasping her hands together in delight and earning a warm smile from the Japanese woman.

‘I’ll show you later. Would you like something to drink?’

‘I can’t stay,’ said Gabe hurriedly. ‘I need to get back.’ He turned to Fiona. ‘For the first couple of days, I thought I could show you around Tokyo. Acclimatise yourself and then you can start thinking about the focus for your exhibition.’

Fiona nodded, pleased he knew that much. It was already causing her a fair amount of anxiety. Although she’d been drawn to the competition by the idea of a trip to Japan, the real prize was the guaranteed exhibition at the Japan Centre in Kensington in London two weeks after she returned home. It was a fantastic opportunity to gain some recognition and perhaps sell some work. She’d been looking forward to working with Yukata Araki, renowned for his beautiful landscapes, and hoping to learn a lot from him as well as seek his advice on a theme for the exhibition.

But now she was stuck with Gabe. She wasn’t sure he would be the right person to help her. He specialised in portraits, for a start.

‘Acclimatisation sounds good,’ she murmured, the punch-drunk reeling sensation of jet lag starting to make her feel dizzy. She swayed on the spot and Gabe caught her arm. Her eyes immediately shot to his and her breath caught in her chest, almost imagining a quick flare of something before he hurriedly dropped her arm again. Stiffening, she forced herself to focus. Gabe had nothing to fear from her. She’d made a complete dick of herself with him before with fanciful imaginings. She wasn’t going to do it again, no matter how flipping attractive she found him.

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