Alice-Miranda in Japan 9 Page 4

  ‘I’m looking forward to having the girls to myself,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Have you decided what we’re doing, Daddy?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘I’m pretty flexible, but I thought today we could have a look at the Senso-ji Temple, and later in the week we can go to the Imperial Palace gardens, and I thought we might visit the Tokyo Tower too.’

  ‘Maybe we should write a list,’ Millie suggested. ‘I saw in my guidebook that there’s a children’s museum. And what about a sumo tournament?’

  ‘Good plan,’ said Hugh.

  ‘Sumo? Yuck! Who wants to see fat men in nappies wrestling?’ Jacinta screwed up her face.

  ‘Come on, Jacinta, it’s not something you see every day,’ Hugh grinned. ‘And those fellows train really hard, you know. I think it would be fun.’

  ‘Well, you and Millie can go. I’ll sit that one out,’ Jacinta told her friends.

  ‘All right, girls, off you go and get dressed,’ Cecelia said.

  The three children scampered upstairs, chatting about the day ahead.

  Kiko opened her eyes and wondered for a moment where she was. She looked up at the shelves lining the room, which were groaning under the weight of hundreds of tiny squirrel figurines.

  When she had followed the old woman inside the previous evening, Kiko was surprised to find a giant squirrel, taller than herself, standing guard in the hallway. At the time Kiko had covered her mouth, hiding her smile. She didn’t want to disrespect Obaasan’s decorating preferences but she had never seen anything like it.

  She rolled over on the thin futon that she’d pushed close to the wall. Her backpack and jacket were hidden under the covers. The air inside the house was thick with a smell Kiko didn’t recognise and it was far too warm for comfort.

  ‘Boy, where are you?’ Obaasan’s voice screeched through the wall.

  Kiko lay still, her eyes heavy and threatening to close again. She could happily have gone back to her dreams.

  The door slid open and the old woman appeared beside her, tapping her foot against Kiko’s bottom. ‘You get up.’ She kicked a little harder. ‘The old people are hungry and you are lazy.’

  Kiko wondered who these old people were. She was about to sit up when she felt something shift down her back and realised it was her own plaited rope of hair. She snatched up the baseball cap beside her and jammed it onto her head, swiftly tucking the plait underneath. She hoped Obaasan hadn’t noticed.

  The woman shuffled out and away down the hall. Insults spewed from her lips as she berated Kiko’s idleness. Except, of course, that she called her ‘boy’ and ‘Yoshi’.

  Kiko hurried to the bathroom, where another shelf of squirrels stared at her with their big brown eyes.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she whispered, then scampered down the hallway in search of Obaasan.

  ‘Yoshi!’ the old woman called sharply.

  Kiko walked into the kitchen, which was larger than she remembered from the previous evening when the old woman had given her a bowl of noodles. Yet more squirrel figurines were crammed on top of the cabinets. There was a row of medicine bottles too, with labels in large letters. Lined up along a countertop were several trays with bowls of steaming noodles.

  ‘Where have you been, boy? Why do you take so long in the toilet? Are you baking bread in there?’ Obaasan wrinkled her nose and squinted at Kiko through thick glasses. ‘I hope you washed your hands.’

  Kiko nodded.

  ‘Have you got a tongue?’ the old woman demanded. ‘Never mind. I don’t care if you don’t speak. Probably better not – then I won’t get sick of your voice. Take these.’ She pointed at the noodles.

  Kiko noticed several pools of broth slopped onto the trays. She looked around for a napkin or a cloth to mop up.

  ‘What are you waiting for? The old people will starve to death before you get them breakfast,’ Obaasan tutted. ‘But make sure they go out in order – left to right. Okay?’

  Kiko picked up the first tray. She had no idea what the woman meant and she didn’t want to ask.

  Obaasan pointed. ‘Through there. The room on the other side of the hall.’

  Kiko hesitated, then pushed her shoulder against the kitchen door and walked through. She pushed against the door on the opposite side of the wide entrance hall and was surprised to see a room full of elderly people sitting around a huge table. She was less surprised to see squirrel figurines lining yet another shelf. Obaasan must have had the biggest collection in the whole of Japan. Kiko was unused to such clutter and she was fascinated to think how long it had taken the woman to amass such a huge number of items. Kiko placed the tray on a sideboard and picked up one of the bowls, which she set in front of the woman closest to her.

  A man with a shock of white hair shook his head and made a fist. ‘No! You always start down there.’

  Kiko quickly picked it up again and walked to the far end of the table. She placed the bowl in front of a woman with a long grey plait wound on top of her head. The old woman looked up at Kiko and smiled.

  Kiko carried each bowl separately, determined not to spill any of their contents. A few minutes later the door flew open and Obaasan shuffled into the dining room.

  ‘What’s taking you so long, boy? He will be dead before he gets his breakfast.’ She pointed a knobbly finger at the gentleman sitting opposite her. The old man guffawed and winked at Obaasan.

  Kiko gulped and walked faster, aware of the contents of the bowl sploshing over the sides.

  ‘She thinks I’m joking,’ Obaasan cackled.

  Kiko made several trips back to the kitchen for more noodles. Her own stomach was grumbling. She hoped there would be some food left over.

  In the dining room she counted twenty people. Kiko wondered if the place was an inn, but that seemed strange as the clientele were all so old. Most of them looked as if they’d struggle to walk more than a few steps, let alone go travelling. None of them had half the energy of Obaasan and yet she looked older than the lot.

  Obasaan reappeared at the doorway. ‘Boy, you take the bowls to the kitchen and wash up. I will get the tea.’

  Kiko walked carefully back across the hall into the kitchen with a tray of empty dishes, which she deposited next to the sink. She looked around, unsure what to do next. After rummaging about, she found a plug and turned on the taps, then dumped a stack of bowls into the steaming water.

  Noodles floated on top and an oily film created kaleidoscopes on the surface. Kiko plunged her hands into the sink and shuddered. The dishes still felt slimy when she put them on the draining board.

  Obaasan returned to the kitchen and shuffled past her.

  ‘Good boy. Did you find the detergent and put the leftovers in the bucket?’ The old woman squinted. Her nose turned up like a pig’s snout every time she did this.

  Kiko looked around and saw a plastic bucket adorned with yet another squirrel motif sitting on the bench. Her eyes scanned the open shelves and fell upon a plastic bottle whose label showed a pair of hands amid a froth of bubbles and a sparkling plate.

  Obaasan left the room and Kiko quickly started again.

  There had still been no offer of food and Kiko was beginning to feel nauseated. She finished her task and waited for the old woman.

  Finally Obaasan returned. ‘Are you hungry, boy?’

  Kiko nodded.

  ‘Then eat!’ she exclaimed. ‘What do you think I am? Your servant? You are young – you can help yourself. Those people in there, they are so old I think the Buddha is their younger brother.’ She cackled at her own joke.

  Kiko snatched a clean bowl and filled it with noodles from the stovetop. She sat at the small table in the corner of the room and ate with dainty precision, careful not to spill a drop nor slurp.

  ‘What? You don’t like my noodles?’ Obaasan sat down with a small cup of tea opposite the girl.

  ‘I . . . I do,’ Kiko replied.

  ‘So you have a tongue,’ Obaasan said. ‘Where are you from,
boy?’

  Kiko did not answer. She wanted to ask about the address in her mother’s diary but it wasn’t the right time. Her stomach knotted at the thought of heading back out into the city. There were so many people and yet she was afraid to ask any of them for help.

  ‘Did you run away? Are you in trouble? Do you want to take the old people’s money?’ Obaasan grinned, revealing a row of stained teeth.

  Kiko shook her head vigorously. ‘No.’ She wondered what the woman was talking about.

  ‘I’m just joking about the old people. That’s my job,’ she laughed. ‘You full?’

  ‘Hai,’ Kiko said quietly. She had never met anyone like Obaasan before.

  ‘Good. Now you get to make beds. Save my old back. I’m glad you were asleep on my doorstep, boy. I like you. You’re helpful and the washing up is not too bad for the first time,’ Obaasan said.

  Kiko wondered how she knew it was the first time she’d ever washed up. She’d never made a bed before either but she’d watched it being done and surely it couldn’t be too hard. Obaasan shuffled into the hallway and beckoned for Kiko to follow her. The front hall sat perpendicular to a long hallway that ran the width of the building. Obaasan turned left and walked towards a set of stairs at the end of the corridor. Kiko turned and glanced back at the side door where she’d entered the house the night before. She was surprised to see a huge padlock and another bolt protecting it. Kiko gulped. Perhaps it would not be as easy to leave as she’d thought.

  Alice-Miranda stood in a wide promenade bustling with tourists and admired the bold red colour of the temple in front of her. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it, Daddy?’ she asked, squeezing her father’s hand.

  ‘Yes, she’s not bad for an old girl,’ Hugh replied.

  Millie consulted her guidebook. ‘The first Senso-ji temple was erected on the site in 645 AD. But the whole place was bombed during the Second World War,’ she read. ‘Imagine if the original one was still here – it would be over a thousand years old.’

  Jacinta pulled a face. ‘You know, you don’t have to tell us every detail about every place we visit.’

  Millie poked out her tongue in return.

  ‘Look at that!’ Alice-Miranda pointed at a pretty pagoda to their left. It was five storeys high and looked like a tower of lacy cupcakes piled one on top of the other.

  ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Millie ran closer and snapped some more photographs.

  The group walked through the temple complex, admiring each of the buildings. Hugh was surprised when he glanced at his watch to realise that they had been there over two hours.

  ‘So, Millie, what else is there for us to see close by?’ Hugh asked.

  ‘There’s a market, just through there.’ She pointed beyond the temple gate.

  ‘Anyone want to join me for some shopping?’ Hugh asked.

  The girls nodded. Alice-Miranda was keen to buy gifts for everyone at home. She was on the lookout for a silk scarf for Shilly and something cute for Poppy and Jasper and Sloane, of course. And then there was Mr and Mrs Greening, Granny Bert, Daisy, Lily and Heinrich to think of too. And Max and Cyril.

  ‘When will Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Lawrence and Lucas arrive?’ Alice-Miranda asked her father. In all of the morning’s excitement she’d almost forgotten they were coming.

  ‘Your mother said they should be here tomorrow, providing Lawrence’s movie has wrapped and they can get away,’ Hugh replied.

  ‘I can’t wait until they arrive,’ Jacinta sighed.

  ‘No, you can’t wait until your boyfriend arrives,’ Millie teased.

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Jacinta replied tersely. ‘He’s my future husband.’

  ‘Does Lucas know that?’ Millie asked.

  ‘No, and I’ll thank you not to tell him,’ Jacinta retorted.

  Alice-Miranda giggled as Jacinta and Millie pulled faces at one another. Even though the girls teased each other mercilessly at times, they had grown close over the past year.

  The happy foursome wandered towards the shops. There were people everywhere perusing the narrow lane’s market-style stores.

  ‘Daddy, can we have a look on our own?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Hugh frowned. ‘I don’t want anyone getting lost.’

  ‘But it’s perfectly safe,’ the child said. ‘We’ll just go in the same direction and meet you at the end of the row.’

  The offer was tempting. Hugh had spotted a couple of antique shops and was keen to see if he could find an original suit of samurai armour. He thought one would look perfect in the corner of his study.

  ‘All right, but stay together. I’ll meet you at the gate down there with the bell, at say –’ he glanced at his watch – ‘one o’clock. Then we can go and find your mother and Ambrosia and have lunch.’

  ‘Thanks, Daddy!’ said Alice-Miranda, and she began to skip off.

  ‘Do you need any money?’ he called after her as the three girls disappeared into the crowd. ‘Guess not.’

  The trio wove their way through the masses and emerged in front of a shop selling lots of novelty items but mostly the same funny little creature. It had huge, round eyes and wore a cape and flying goggles, like a pilot from the olden days.

  ‘I wonder what his name is,’ Millie said as she inspected one of the porcelain figures.

  A reed-thin man walked to the front of the shop and bowed at the girls. His face was pockmarked and his thick black eyebrows furrowed fiercely.

  ‘He is Itoshii Squirrel. It means Lovely Squirrel. He brings good luck.’

  ‘Why does he wear that outfit?’ Millie asked.

  ‘He is a flying squirrel,’ the man replied.

  ‘Really?’ Jacinta asked. ‘Do Japanese squirrels actually fly?’ The only Squirrels she’d ever seen scampered and scurried and were generally thought to be a nuisance.

  ‘Hai,’ he said. ‘Momonga.’

  ‘Momonga?’ Jacinta repeated.

  ‘Well, I think Itoshii Squirrel is adorable.’ Alice-Miranda walked further into the shop, browsing the apparently endless range of items dedicated to the tiny rodent. ‘Poppy and Jasper will love him. Oh, and Sloane too.’

  The man walked back behind the counter but his eyes followed the girls like a hawk. Jacinta watched him and wondered if he was always so suspicious of potential customers. Even grumpy Mr Munz in the village at Winchesterfield was more welcoming, and half the time he chased the children out of the shop – especially if his favourite television show, Winners Are Grinners, was about to come on.

  Millie picked up a small pencil case and a matching set of coloured pencils. Alice-Miranda was keen on the figurines dressed in different superhero outfits for Jasper.

  A plump boy entered the store. He stopped for a moment then continued to the counter, bumping into Jacinta on his way.

  ‘Sumimasen,’ he muttered but did not look at her.

  ‘Yes, watch where you’re going next time,’ Jacinta huffed.

  The man and the boy spoke in Japanese. Then the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of bank notes, which he handed over. ‘Yoku dekimashita!’ the man said with a laugh before the boy disappeared into the back of the shop.

  Alice-Miranda and Millie finished their selections and walked to the counter. Millie had held onto the pencil case and pencils and added a mug, which she thought her mother might enjoy. Being a vet, she was always interested in animals – even if her patients tended not to wear capes.

  Alice-Miranda deposited her small collection of items next to the cash register. She’d found a lovely set of coasters for Mrs Greening and a cute notepad for her husband, Harold.

  The girls pulled out their wallets and paid for the goods.

  The man leaned over and looked at Jacinta. ‘What about in your pocket?’

  Jacinta shook her head. ‘There’s nothing in my pocket.’

  ‘You lie.’

  ‘I do not,’ she protested. ‘I’ll show you.’ Jacinta fished around inside her jacket. She looked at th
e man and then at her friends, the colour draining from her cheeks.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Jacinta pulled out a small box. ‘What’s this?’ She looked at it quizzically.

  Alice-Miranda took it from her hand and opened it. Inside was a ring, with a crystal Itoshii Squirrel in the centre.

  ‘You thief!’ the man yelled. ‘You steal the most expensive thing in my shop.’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ Jacinta’s face was pale and she had begun to shake.

  ‘I’m sure that it’s just a misunderstanding,’ Alice-Miranda said to the man. ‘I’m happy to pay for it.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. No pay. I call the police.’

  Through a sheer curtain in the back room, Millie could see the boy who had walked into the shop earlier. He was sitting at a small table looking up at a television set. There was a devilish smile on his lips.

  ‘Please, I don’t want to be in trouble.’ Jacinta began to cry. ‘I didn’t do it. I promise. It must have fallen into my pocket.’

  ‘Sir, I’m sure we can work this out,’ Alice-Miranda said again.

  In the distance, a conveniently timed siren wailed. ‘You stay there. The police coming now,’ said the shopkeeper.

  Tears flooded Jacinta’s face. ‘But I didn’t do anything,’ she sobbed. Alice-Miranda put a comforting arm around her.

  A sly grin settled on the man’s face. ‘Okay, I let you pay – double – and I won’t get the police.’

  Alice-Miranda looked at him in shock. ‘Double! That’s outrageous and I suspect it’s illegal too.’

  Millie was watching the scene playing out in front of her thinking that there had to be a perfectly rational explanation.

  ‘Did that boy touch you?’ she asked Jacinta. ‘The one sitting through there?’

  Jacinta stopped crying. She wiped her face and looked at Millie.

  ‘Yes, he bumped into me when he walked into the shop,’ Jacinta said.

  ‘Well, that’s it then.’ Millie nodded decisively.

  ‘That’s what then?’ Jacinta asked with a sniff.