Exposure (18 page)

Even to her own ears her voice sounded shaky and strained.

Charlie shrugged, smiling slightly.

“Doesn’t matter: I have friends and family in both directions.”

Mr Matsumoto had given them a pair of rooms that were next door to each other, windows looking out towards Kompira-san.

Helene found a pretty, cotton yukata dressing gown and pair of wooden clogs in her room. Her grab bag had been laid carefully on a low table. In a corner of the room was a small, recessed shrine. If there was an earthquake the shrine would most likely survive, even if the occupying guest didn’t. How very Japanese.

She couldn’t see a bed, so Helene’s best guess was that a futon was stored in one of the cupboards. She hoped it would be laid out for her when she returned from bathing; she felt too tired and weak to wrestle with a heavy mattress. If it wasn’t laid out for her, she decided she’d simply sleep on the floor.

There was a knock on the wall. It meant Charlie was ready and would be waiting outside for her.

Helene flung off her dirty clothes and slipped on the yukata which felt cool against her hot skin. She grabbed her wash bag and plodded across the room, her clogs making her sound like a lame horse. She was looking forward to being clean but her mind was in such a ferment she hardly knew who she was, let alone what she felt. At the last minute she remembered to pull off her wig. She didn’t bother to look in the mirror.

Charlie was leaning against the wall, looking cool and elegant in his brightly coloured gown.

“Ready?”

Helene nodded, unable to trust her voice.

A smiling woman directed them to the bathrooms with many smiles and gesticulations. There were separate changing rooms for men and women as well as segregated bathing areas. With a grin and a wave Charlie disappeared and Helene watched as the door swung closed between them.

She felt old and tired and burdened with an intolerable weight. She pushed open the door to the women’s changing room and inside saw a small cabinet of six lockers with baskets for the yukata and clogs. There was a pile of fresh towels – none of them much larger than a face cloth. Instead of feeling a flush of embarrassment she mechanically removed her gown, placing it in the locker with the clogs, and slowly washed herself using the wooden bucket and western style shower. To preserve some modesty, she hung the small towel over her arm and let it hang in front of her, then she opened the only other door in the cubicle, assuming it must lead to the onsen.

A slight smell of sulphur hung on the air and steam drifted across the surface of the hot spa.

Only one other woman was present, an elderly lady who myopically greeted her, “Konbanwa!”

Helene replied awkwardly before draping her towel over a rock and sliding into the hot, spring water. The air was warm and almost spicy; she closed her eyes as the heat relaxed her aching joints.

The old woman frowned and, when she realised she was sharing her bath with a gaijin, promptly rose up like an aging Venus and clip-clopped from the onsen muttering to herself.

Helene had no idea if she’d committed some unforgiveable breach of onsen etiquette or whether the old woman detested the idea of sharing with a dirty foreigner. Too bad: the water was marvellously soothing.

The men’s onsen was on the other side of the ryokan. Helene felt relief that Charlie was some distance away from her. Her brain was whirling with unwanted images, ideas, thoughts. The refrain of a hymn kept circling round and around:

I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black;

It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.

Is that what I’m doing? she asked herself. Am I dancing with the devil?

She didn’t know the answer.

Helene sat for so long that she was almost asleep; she sat up with a jolt when she realised that stars were beginning to appear and she could no longer pick out the image of the heron mosaic on the tiles. She felt emotionally drained but her mind had been eased and she had made a decision: she had to go on. Whatever Charlie was, whoever he was, this game had to be played out.

She didn’t doubt that larger powers were at work: the pond was very large and she was a very, very small fish.

Helene pulled herself out of the onsen feeling slightly shrivelled. She had barely noticed the arrival and departure of two younger women. Was it onsen etiquette to acknowledge leavers and new arrivals? She didn’t know. Nor care much.

Back in the changing rooms she pulled on her yukata. It felt good to be clean again. She was pleased that Charlie hadn’t waited for her, although she did think she felt ready to face him. But as soon as she returned to her room, he knocked on her door.

She shuffled to the door.

“Howdy pardner,” he said, smiling although she noted his eyes were careful. “You were gone for hours: I was beginning to wonder if you’d done a bunk.”

“And miss out on all this fun?” said Helene, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled broadly, clearly relieved at the return of a degree of her equanimity.

“I’ve ordered some food,” he announced. “I asked them to send up one of everything on the menu to my room – I thought you’d be hungry… and I don’t want you getting grumpy.”

“Marvellous,” said Helene. “Just give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll be right over.”

In truth she didn’t feel very hungry but his thoughtfulness was touching.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a T-shirt and pair of wrinkled harem trousers. Then she plodded to his room in her wooden clogs. She really wished she’d packed the flip-flops that she’d worn in Hawaii.

He opened the door before she’d even knocked.

“No chance of a stealthy approach in those,” he said.

Helene smiled wryly.

“Maybe that’s why they give them out: not very ninja-like, are they?”

Charlie stood back so she could enter. Spread out on the low table was a mouth-watering buffet. He’d been true to his word and ordered one of everything: prawn tempura rolls; salmon skin rolls; fried tofu; salmon teriyaki; dishes of rice; a plate of sashimi; yakiniku grilled meat; some lightly seared fish; thick, white udon noodles; rice crackers; something that looked a bit like chicken curry; miso soup; and two flasks of the green O-cha.

Helene sank onto the cushions arranged around the table and sat cross-legged, more or less comfortably.

Silently he filled a small bowl and handed it to her.

She held one of the tempura rolls between her chopsticks and chewed thoughtfully.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” he said.

She looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I was thinking about Bill.”

Charlie sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“We have knowledge of a murder,” said Helene, “and if we don’t report it we’re complicit in it.”

“So? What do you want to do?” he frowned. “Report it to the local police, hope they’re not connected to the ryokan – and hope that we wake up alive in the morning?”

Helene shook her head.

“No, of course not, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll ignore it. Do you understand what I mean?”

Charlie stared at her.

“I suppose you mean you’ll write about him in the story for your agent. No holds barred – even about me.”

Helene stared back.

“I’ll protect your name, Charlie, but that’s all I can promise.”

He hesitated then nodded.

“I suppose that’s about what I’d imagined you’d say.” He shrugged. “You’ve got to do what you think is right, Helene, I know that. But I’ll do what I have to do to protect myself, too.”

Helene wasn’t sure what that meant but she had no choice but to agree. Even so, she felt relieved that things were in the open between them. After a fashion.

Back in her own room, her stomach uncomfortably full, Helene discovered that the futon had been laid out for her with two hard pillows and a thick quilt. Another flask of hot water had also been left together with a pot of the powdered matcha tea that she found too bitter.

Relieved that she wasn’t going to be sleeping on a hard tatami mat, she flopped down onto the futon and pulled the quilt over her. Curled up, she listened to the boards creaking in the room next door as Charlie paced up and down. It seemed to go on for hours and Helene started to feel tense again. When the pacing finally stopped, Helene fell into an uneasy sleep.

The sun was some way advanced when she woke suddenly and precisely. For the first time in several days she felt refreshed and alert. The feeling was surprising.

She glanced at the dirty clothes still in a pile on the floor where she had dropped them. Hopefully the ryokan would have a laundry somewhere: her meagre stock of clean clothes had just run out. She bundled up the washing and left it in a plastic bag by her door. If she could bear it, she’d ask Mayumi what to do.

Charlie’s room was already empty, so she made her way along the narrow corridor to find that breakfast was held in another large room in the ryokan. The morning meal didn’t differ substantially from the evening meal except for some fermented soya beans, rice porridge, plus more grilled fish.

Charlie had acquired a map of the shrine and he was just pointing out the route to her when Mayumi arrived. Today she was wearing jeans and carrying a pair of well-used hiking boots.

“Dad’s asked me to take you up to the shrine,” she said, cheerfully. “He’s arranged for you to speak to someone who can help you – tell you what you need to know.”

“Thanks,” said Charlie. “Give us five minutes and we’ll be with you.”

Helene nodded coldly and Mayumi left. She didn’t mention the washing.

“She’s helping us,” said Charlie leaning towards her. “It wouldn’t kill you to be polite to the boss’s daughter.”

Helene nodded irritably.

“I know: it just makes me uncomfortable knowing that she’s Yakuza.”

Charlie looked equally annoyed.

“They don’t call themselves that,” he said standing up. “They’re known here as ninkyō dantai. I thought you’d like to know: you don’t want to go getting your facts wrong in your article.”

He stood up in one fluid motion and stalked off.

Helene followed him with her eyes, thoughtful.

When they met up outside, he was working hard to seem like his old self, but Helene thought she detected a new wariness about him.

Mayumi led the way through a shopping arcade filled with souvenir shops and udon eateries, chatting easily to Charlie and all but ignoring Helene.

As they left the small town behind them, the path began to climb the side of the mountain, twisting through a dense forest. It gave them shade from the heat promised by the early morning sun and Helene was grateful for that. After 15 minutes of hiking uphill, Helene’s calves started to protest but Mayumi and Charlie continued to climb steadily, talking with animation about the scenery and the history of the shrine.

“Yes,” said Mayumi, “this shrine is said to guard against evil and is dedicated to seafarers: I guess that’s why your guy picked it, being an ex-marine and all.”

Helene’s ears pricked up.

“So you know who we’re looking for?” she said.

“Of course!” said Mayumi, smiling condescendingly. “You don’t think a gaijin could come here to learn to be a Shinto priest and nobody would notice, do you?”

Helene was silenced. She decided to save her breath for the hike.

Halfway up the mountain, they came to the main entrance. A massive, wooden structure was decorated with the traditional curved roof, but instead of dragons guarding the tiles, a pair of strange sea-creatures stared at each other across the expanse. A pilgrim dressed in the white uniform of the
henro
watched their progress without comment.

It felt like entering another world – or another time.

A little further up stood the usual treasure hall and beyond that a temple complex with a large square to the front, a cluster of wooden buildings around it.

Helene realised that the beliefs of Shintoism and Buddhism had been integrated in one, handy ecumenical site of worship. Japan was a very confusing country. Perhaps pragmatism was the defining characteristic.

Turning to look behind her, Helene was rewarded with views down into the valley. Kotohira was spread out like a quilt, a patchwork of white buildings, red rooves and green fields. It was bigger than she’d realised. It reminded her a bit of Canterbury.

“Now comes the hard bit,” said Mayumi, glancing conspiratorially at Charlie. “Five hundred and eighty-three steps up to the main shrine.”

She looked at Helene who was still catching her breath.

“If you’re not up to it I can call a palanquin to carry you,” she said, not bothering to hide the bitchy amusement in her voice.

“I’m fine,” said Helene, wiping the sweat from her eyes.

Inside she was thinking: Damn you! I’m twice your age but I’m still here, lady!

The path got steeper and the stone steps deeper. Helene was red in the face but pleased to see that even Mayumi was a little short of breath and her animated conversation with Charlie had been curtailed.

They passed a series of stone markers carved with flowing Kanji. They looked like gravestones but for all Helene knew they could have been displaying sacred texts. They were followed by huge cliff carvings of some curious beast.

“Those are tengu,” said Mayumi, in answer to Charlie’s question; “mountain demons.”

“Why do you have demons near a shrine?” asked Helene.

Mayumi shrugged. “Why do you have gargoyles on a church?”

Helene’s palm was itching to give the younger woman a good slap. On the other hand, it was probably not the best spirit in which to enter a shrine and talk to a priest, she reasoned.

After another stiff hike, they finally they reached the inner shrine.

It was smaller than the other buildings, painted in red, enclosed by a cliff on one side and a dense thicket of trees on the other.

Few of the pilgrims and none of the tourists had bothered to come this far. It seemed they were alone. Helene was beginning to feel conspicuous and paranoid when Mayumi motioned for them to enter the shrine.

It was cool inside, the stone floor smooth under their boots. When Helene’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the shadowy interior, she saw a man wearing a pale blue gown, not unlike a kimono, kneeling with his feet hidden, facing towards an altar. His hair was light brown instead of black; she knew instinctively that this was the man they had come so far to see. He rose in a single, graceful movement and bowed to the shrine. Then he turned to greet them.