Читать книгу Made In Japan - S. Parks J. - Страница 19

On Sunday afternoon they browsed the Meiji Shrine flea market, strewn with old kimonos and bric-a-brac. It looked as though thieves had emptied every drawer in the neighbourhood and laid them across the vacant car lot.

Hana found a waxed paper stencil, similar to one they had at home in London. Had it come from the very same market years ago? On the lower slopes of the hill in Harajuku, they stopped at a booth to have their photos taken, the template distorting their faces with huge dish-shaped eyes. They laughed as a sheet of portrait squares hit the slot. They had become cartoon Anime, like the cute army; girls disguised as kawai manga dolls, marching past in short white socks and and bows.

They set off downhill, arms linked, and as they reached Omotesandō subway Hana caught Jess’s arm for attention. Ed, from the plane was coming towards them.

He was coming up from the subway, taking the stairs two at a time till they faced one another.

Hana smiled. ‘Hi’

He needed no prompting to remember her as they damned the flow of subway passengers at the entrance.

‘I lost your card.’ She grimaced in apology for not making contact.

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve been at my desk since I got here.’

He was clearly keen to make her feel easy. After he had said ‘Hi’ to Jess, he apologized and said he couldn’t stop, but as he turned to leave he said, ‘I’m going to Tsukiji fish market early in the morning with a friend. Want to come?’

Hana’s heart sank. ‘I’m sorry, we have go to a memorial service.’

‘Great idea,’ Jess yelled after him as he left, still apologizing because he was late.

Jess had often complained, Hana reminded her accusatively, that she had ‘done’ the fish auctions as a tourist attraction, countless times.

Nevertheless Jess flailed after him till she caught him up, and eventually returning, arm raised as if she had secured European peace, with his mobile number.

Hana looked at Jess as if she had appropriated a friend. ‘We can’t go tomorrow. It’s the memorial.’

Jess nodded unconvincingly, and as they dropped into the metro a bank of warm air lifted their thin cotton skirts, as light as the friendship.