The New Samurai (38 page)

Sam was relieved; sometimes her watchfulness was grating, even though he knew her concern for him was genuine.

And for once, Sam wasn’t the only person in the room being stared at: Gerda and Gretchen certainly knew how to make an entrance, although, to be fair, they couldn’t really help it either. Gretchen was wearing skin-tight, blue jeans and knee-length boots with five-inch heels, which made her even taller than Sam. Gerda was only slightly more toned-down in low-slung black hipsters and a soft, gold T-shirt that clung to her willowy frame.

Paul almost leapt out of his seat when he saw them. Sam and Yoshi stood up politely as the women arrived, although Miho and Yumi ignored them rather obviously.

They seated themselves in the booth, Gretchen talking primarily to Paul but also chatting pleasantly to the others. Gerda sat next to Sam and they were soon talking animatedly. He found himself telling her his life story and she swapped tales of growing up in a Germanic-speaking area of Poland, coming to the UK, working part-time as a model whilst studying business at university. Then they moved onto books they’d read and loved, films they’d seen and places they’d visited.

Somebody, probably Paul, produced a bottle of sake and Sam lost count of how many shots he’d had to drink, he was so engrossed in listening to Gerda.

Gradually the music’s volume and tempo increased until Sam was practically shouting into Gerda’s ear.

She shook her head and winced. “Let’s dance!”

The dance floor was crowded, a press of bodies around them. Somewhere Yoshi and Miho were already weaving their way through the other dancers. Gerda pulled Sam towards her and they danced, absorbed in the music and by the way their bodies fitted together under the dim lights.

Eventually the music slowed and Gerda moved, closer pressing her body against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, moving to the rhythm of the bass. The perfume coming off her heated skin and the sake that he’d drunk earlier was making it hard for Sam to concentrate.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she pulled his head lower, her lips exploring his cheek, his chin, his mouth. His arms tightened around her and she sighed softly.

“Do you want to come back to my hotel room?” she said.

He nodded.

Outside, in the brittle air, she pushed him roughly against the wall. He responded quickly and she let out a low moan.

He stared at her for a long moment, then she took his hand and led him across the street back to her hotel. But the cold air was clearing his head. One part of him was filled with desire for Gerda, a beautiful, intelligent, interesting woman; another part of him remembered a laughing smile, the blue of a summer day in her eyes.

He kissed Gerda again, more fiercely, closing his eyes, trying to block out the memory.

The hotel lobby was a pool of light in the dark street. Hand in hand, Gerda and Sam walked briskly through the reception area and she pulled him towards a short flight of stairs.

At her room, she fumbled in her bag for the key, her job made harder by Sam, who was kissing the nape of her neck and the tops of her shoulders, his arms wrapped around her waist, his breath warm on her throat.

“Jeez, guys! Try and make it through the door!”

Voices laughed in the corridor behind them and Sam caught his breath, jerking upright. The person who had spoken had a strong Australian accent. He turned and stared. A woman with long, brown hair met his gaze and winked at him.

Gerda found her key and the door swung open. She smiled at him, waiting, but the invitation evident in her eyes turned to a question as he stood, hesitating.

“Do you want to come in?”

Sam took a pace back and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

She stared at him, not angry, just puzzled.

He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I should go.”

“Should you? Why?” her voice was thoughtful.

“I… There’s someone else…”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know… but I have to see if we can work things out. I’m sorry, Gerda, really sorry. I have to go.”

She watched him leave with regretful eyes, but she didn’t try to stop him either. She knew when someone was telling her the truth.

Sam didn’t feel like going back to the bar. He knew Paul would have made assumptions once Sam disappeared, but he didn’t much care either. He pulled up the collar on his coat, thrust his hands into his pockets and started the long, cold walk back to the Sato’s farmhouse.

The road was quiet and not a single car passed him as he headed out of town. His thoughts were churning around, a crazy funfair of hopes, desires and dreams. He didn’t regret his decision, but he did regret hurting someone who seemed like a decent person.

The farmhouse was in darkness as he crunched across the yard towards the barn. Yoshi had left a small lamp burning inside so they wouldn’t be left thrashing around in the dark. Sam kicked off his boots and curled up into his sleeping bag, but his eyes seemed as if soldered open and sleep was a long way off.

It was a couple of hours before he heard the snow-cat returning, and Yoshi and Paul crashed into the barn, laughing loudly.

It was Yoshi, still sober, who saw him first.

“Sam-san! How you get here?” his voice racing up a couple of octaves in his surprise.

“Walked,” said Sam, briefly.

Yoshi caught his tone but Paul, as usual, ignored the hint.

“Dude! You’re not seriously saying you blew off a chick like Gerda?”

Sam didn’t answer.

“I cannot believe you, man!” said Paul.

“Try,” said Sam.

Paul fell silent, swapping a puzzled look with Yoshi. But at least, after that brief exchange, he left Sam alone.

The next morning the sky was grey and overcast; the brilliant blue of the previous day a memory. Yoshi was snoring contentedly and Sam moved quietly. He’d managed to get some sleep, once he’d made his decision.

He crept into the farmhouse to wash and shave, glad that he appeared to be the only person awake. He was relieved that Helen didn’t know anything about the previous evening in the bar; he couldn’t face her dissection of the events right now. Especially when he knew that she’d be right to be disapproving. Being brought up by a single mother and older sister had left Sam with a healthy respect for women – and he knew he’d treated Gerda badly.

When he got back to the barn, Yoshi was still asleep, but Paul was sitting up pulling on his boots. He looked at Sam.

“You okay?”

Sam shrugged. “Sure.”

Paul continued to gaze at him and Sam looked away.

“I’m guessing we won’t be seeing Gerda and Gretchen today then?”

Sam shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or make me guess?” said Paul, sounding aggravated. “Because either way I’m gonna end up saying the wrong thing – it would be easier if you told me why before I make an ass of myself.”

Sam smiled crookedly and sighed.

“Nothing happened. I walked Gerda to her hotel, I said goodnight and then I walked back here. But no, I’m not planning on seeing her again… and she definitely won’t want to see me.”

“And nothing happened?”

“Nope.”

“That’s cool,” said Paul. “You’re not that guy, I see that. I know you think I can be a prick but sometimes it’s kinda hard not to be one when women are throwing themselves at your friend – and no-one’s throwing themselves at me.”

Sam looked at the floor, rubbing his forehead.

Paul held up his hand. “It’s not your fault, I know. And actually I think it’s kinda cool that you’re not a player. I know that sounds weird coming from me, but really – I have five sisters, remember. I was surprised when you left with Gerda last night. Well, a bit surprised, I mean – those women were
hot
. But you’re still hung up on Tara.”

Sam winced. “Is it that obvious?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Yeah, much! So what are you going to do? Cos, frankly, buddy, either you got to do something or you gotta get over it. You’re driving me nuts!”

Sam twitched a smile. “I’m driving
you
nuts?”

They laughed.

“So? What
are
you going to do?”

Sam looked up.

It was the end of term a week before Christmas and one by one, the overseas teaching staff were leaving the chilly, damp streets of Tokyo. Paul’s flight stateside was booked and Yoshi was leaving the following day. Sam’s plans had remained fluid until the small hours of the morning, when he’d found himself sitting in an all night internet café, ingesting more caffeine than was good for any human.

Now it was time to say goodbye to Helen.

“I am going to miss you lots and lots!” said Helen, hugging Sam tightly. “Promise, promise, promise me you’ll stay in touch. Write often, won’t you?”

Sam smiled.

“I promise: you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Malcolm punched him lightly on the arm. “You’d better do what she says or I’ll get it in the neck!”

Sam laughed and they shook hands.

Paul gave Helen a bear hug and pumped Malcolm’s arm. Yoshi looked like he was trying not to cry, his happy face crumpled. Then he flung himself at Helen and Malcolm, speaking so rapidly neither understood a word: the emotion behind the words was clear enough.

Helen hugged everyone again, unwilling to make their farewells so final. In the end Malcolm put his arm around her and steered Helen towards the departure lounge. She turned twice more, biting her lip and waving. Then they were gone.

Paul clapped his arms around Yoshi and Sam’s shoulders.

“Let’s go and have a drink,” he said.

“Yes, I am miserable,” said Yoshi, nodding.

After riding the subway back from the airport, Paul led the way, following a narrow alley off a busy Shinjuku side-street until they stumbled across a small, family-run bar off the beaten track. It was quiet and rather rundown but appealing at present.

“This really sucks,” said Paul, summing up the mood.

“It is very sad,” agreed Yoshi.

Sam was staring at the beer-cap he was spinning between his fingers.

“Hello! Earth to Sam! We boring you, buddy?”

Sam looked up. “Sorry.”

He shifted in his seat.

“You sure you don’t wanna come and spend Christmas in New York? My mom would love to meet you. I bet you’re good with moms!”

Sam smiled.

“Or Kurisumasu in Hokkaido!” said Yoshi, enthusiastically. “We ski much!”

“Thanks,” said Sam, “but actually I booked my plane ticket today. Well, last night really – or it could have been morning.”

“And a wet, grey, foggy London is number one on your list? Cos I gotta I tell you, buddy, that…”

“No,” said Sam. “I got a ticket for Melbourne.”

There was a stunned silence, then Paul was thumping him on the back and Yoshi was yelling happily. The waitress looked almost scared, jumping at the sudden explosion of noise.

“Way to go!” cried Paul. “Why didn’t you tell us? How’s Tara? How’s her mom? Are you guys…”

“I haven’t spoken to Tara,” said Sam. “I was going to email but…”

There was a puzzled silence.

“Huh? You haven’t… she doesn’t know you’re coming?”

Paul’s smile disappeared like someone had flicked a switch, and Yoshi looked confused.

“I was going to email her but…” Sam sighed, then ducked his head, embarrassed by the admission. “I didn’t want to give her the chance to tell me not to come.”

“So… what? You’re just going to knock on her door and say, ‘Hey, babe, remember me?’”

Sam twitched a smile. “Yeah, something like that. Although I won’t call her ‘babe’ – she’d probably hit me. Again.”

“It’s your face, buddy,” said Paul, shaking his head with a reluctant smile.

Yoshi laughed.

“You strange fellow, Sam-san. I wish you good success. Now we celebrate! Big time!”

Sam picked up his bottle and clinked it against Yoshi’s. “Cheers!” he said.

“Kampai!” shouted Yoshi.

“Banzai!” yelled Paul.

It was a strange feeling being in the empty hostel. Sam looked around his room, now stripped of personal belongings. The tiny, hutch-like room seemed desolate, sorry to see him go. Sam had sold or given away much of the belongings he’d accrued over the previous nine months and paid an exorbitant amount to ship home – to his sister’s home – the things he wanted to keep. It was almost a re-run of leaving London back in the Spring. He wondered where he’d be in a month’s time, unwilling to let himself hope who he might be with.

He looked again at the plane ticket. It had been a spur of the moment decision to use up the greater part of his savings to travel to Melbourne, but after what had happened with Gerda – or nearly happened – Sam had left himself with little choice. At least, that’s how it felt.

Yoshi had left for Hokkaido, insisting that Sam contact him as soon there was ‘news’ as he put it. Paul, more bluntly, had reminded Sam that a visit to New York was also available at a moment’s notice – with or without Tara.

With a final glance round, Sam dropped the room-key on his desk and walked out of the hostel.

He had been travelling for 24 hours including a short stop-over at Singapore. Now, standing on the burning tarmac outside Melbourne’s airport, he couldn’t help wondering what the hell he was doing. He was light-headed from jetlag, and found it more than a little disconcerting to hear so much English spoken around him after nine months in Japan; he felt off balance.

Sam looked again at the map he’d printed out. From what he could work out, Tara’s mother’s farm was somewhere out in the sticks in the Yarra valley, a few miles beyond the nearest village. He could get the bus most of the way and after that, he was probably hoofing it.

It hadn’t seemed like a great distance when he’d looked at the map on a winter’s day in Tokyo, but now the sun was scorching the air, even at ten o’clock in the morning. It was yet another shock after the sleet and slush he’d left behind: pleasant for a moment, but only for the few seconds it took before sweat started to trickle down the back of his neck.

It was early afternoon by the time the jolting bus dumped him in the improbably-named village of Woori Yallock. The place slept, looking utterly deserted, and Sam wouldn’t have been surprised to see tumbleweed being blown down the dusty street.