The Japanese Lantern (4 page)

He looked up at that moment and smiled.

“Not much further now,” he said. “We should be coming down at Hanedin Airport in about half an hour.”

“Tokyo?”

He nodded. “You might be able to see the shore if you look out. Yokohama looks very fine from the air.”

“Is Yokohama Tokyo’s port?” she asked.

“Not exactly. They used to be different towns, but they’ve pretty well merged together now. They build some fine ships there.”

Jonquil sat on the edge of her seat and waited for her first glimpse of Japan. When it came it was better than she had imagined possible. The sacred mountain stood high in the background and the land welcomed the aeroplane as it sped towards it. In a few seconds they were touching down on one of the runways of Hanedin Airport, where she set her first foot on Japanese soil.

Impatiently she waited for the gangway to be brought up, longing to see what sort of a place she had come to.

“You mustn’t judge by an airport,” Jason warned her. “All airports are pretty much the same the whole world over.”

“But one gets a feel,” she pleaded. “You see the people, or some of them; there must be some difference.”

But she had to admit that there wasn’t very much. It was enormous, of course, and efficient as all big airports are, but if it gave an atmosphere of any country it was more of America than of Japan.

There was quite a long hold-up at the Customs until the senior official could be found, and then there was a sudden spurt of activity that left them almost breathless when they found themselves on the other side of the barrier.

“How are you going to recognize your employers?” Jason asked her.

There was a distinct twinkle in his eyes that she distrusted.

“I’m hoping they will recognize me from my photograph,” he said suspiciously, but he only smiled to himself.

They waited in the most obvious part of the waiting room they could find, for nothing that Jonquil could say would persuade Jason that she would now be quite all right on her own.

It was a nervous moment and she wished that she could have looked her best
which is hardly possible after a long flight. But immediately she set eyes on Mrs. Buckmaster she knew that she needn’t have worried. She came running into, the room and somehow Jonquil knew who it was without having to be told. She almost waved when she saw her looking round the people gathered there, and sure enough she came over to them.

“Jason!” she cried out, and flung her arms around his neck. “Is this Miss Kennedy?” The two women shook hands. “I do hope that my brother looked after you
well.
He can be most awfully vague, but I did ask him to make a special effort!”

Somehow Jonquil managed to force a smile. “He was very kind,” she said a little stiffly. Too kind, she added to herself. For she very much doubted that she was ever going to get over it.

CHAPTER III

Mrs. Buckmaster
was very Australian. Lovely to look at and very smartly dressed, she had a tireless energy and a kind heart that naturally included everyone in her immediate vicinity. She smiled now at her brother, giving
him
a conspiratorial wink.

“Yoshiko is outside in the car with Harvey,” she told him.

Jason frowned slightly.

“Hasn’t that father of hers come back yet?” he asked, and to Jonquil he sounded almost irritable.

“Another week yet.” His sister looked a little puzzled. “You made the arrangements for his Indian tour, dear.”

“Yes, I know. Don’t mind me, I always lose my bearings after a long flight!” He smiled, lighting up his whole face with sudden warmth. “It’s good to see you again, honey,” he said, “but we mustn’t keep Miss Kennedy waiting. Where’s the car? And I’ll take the bags out.”

Mrs. Buckmaster pointed vaguely out of the window and then turned the whole of her attention on to Jonquil.

“Was it a dreadfully long journey? I hate flying, don’t you? And having to stop the night at Manila was
the end
! It’s such a waste of time, but never mind, you’re here now, and very glad to see you we are!”

Jonquil smiled and said she had rather enjoyed the break in the Philippines.

“Your brother was awfully kind,” she said. “He gave up some appointment at a laboratory to take me round Manila. We had a wonderful time.” She
looked a little wistful, a fact that Jason's sister noticed with interest and with some pleasure.

“That
was
nice of him,” Mrs. Buckmaster agreed. “It’s always difficult to dig him out of his test-tubes—we all despaired long ago
!
But come, and meet my husband. He’s outside in the car.” She led the way out of the waiting room towards the entrance foyer and out into the grounds beyond. Jonquil followed with curiously lagging feet. Now that the actual moment had come for her to see Japan, she wanted to savour her anticipation. To put it off until she was quite ready for it. Round the
corner
came a party of women all dressed in national dress, and the moment was over. This is Japan! she told herself, and I, Jonquil Kennedy, am really here!

Outside the air was cool and the grass greener than any she had ever seen. Flowers ran riot wherever they were able to gain a foothold and the colourful costumes of those who were still wearing kimonos added to the beauty. She was almost sorry to have to get into the car to be whipped away so quickly.

Harvey Buckmaster seemed to understand what she was feeling, for he greeted her abstracted silence with an amused grin and drawled in his heavy Southern accent: “Welcome to the land of flowers and gifts!”

“And gifts?” she asked, really seeing him for the first time
.

“Sure! The national hobby of the Japanese. They give you a handkerchief or a scarf if you so much as go and pay your bill.”

“What a lovely idea.” Jonquil retrie
v
ed her hand from his enormous fist. “It would make it almost a pleasure to pay them.”

Another figure crept out of the car and stood beside them.

“This is Yoshiko,” Mrs. Buckmaster introduced her. “She’s staying with us at the moment.”

Yoshiko gave three quick bows, her hands on her lap and a sweet smile on her face.

“Welcome to Japan,” she said in perfect English. “It is a great pleasure to have you among us.”

Jonquil was lost between the impulse to hold out her hand and the alternative of returning the bows. She laughed and everyone laughed with her.

“You must teach me what I should do,” she said.

“You can do either,” Yoshiko told her shyly.

At last Jason came up with the luggage and he and his brother-in-law stowed it away in the boot of the car while everyone else got in.

Yoshiko, Jonquil noticed, had succeeded in wedging herself between the two men in the front to give herself and Mrs. Buckmaster more room at the back. She was not as pretty as Mitchi Boko and she dressed in Western clothes, but she had that indefinable air of delicate femininity that had been so appealing in the other Japanese girl.

She turned round now to smile at them and Jonquil saw that her eyes were not the liquid dark brown that her features had led her to expect, but a beautiful jade green that sparkled magnificently beneath her long black eyelashes.

“
It is sad that I shall only be here for one week,” she said now. “When my father returns I must go back to Kyoto, but you must come and see us there. Kyoto is much more beautiful
than
Tokyo.”

Jonquil glanced at Mrs. Buckmaster.

“Why not? Alex is quite old enough to go away to stay. I want you to
enjoy
your time in Japan, my dear, not spend all your evenings shut up in the house. My aunt lives with us and she can easily keep an eye on Alex when he is asleep, but it
’
s a little too much for her in the daytime
. Y
ou see she’s confined to a wheelchair and can’t get about very much now.”

Jonquil’s expressive grey eyes told of her
sympathy.

“How awful for her!” she said. “I’ll do my best
not to get in her way.”

“She’s a dear really,” Mrs. Buckmaster went on. “But just a trifle difficult. She had a very hard time in the last war and has never quite got over it.”

Yoshiko made a wry face.

“She hates the Japanese,” she said quietly. “But I only laugh. It is natural with her!”

There was a sudden lull in the conversation and Jonquil took the opportunity to look more closely at the streets they were passing through. Some were broad and as well planned as any that one might find in the West, but some were intriguingly narrow, their signs written in the beautiful Japanese calligraphy looking more like pictures than a mundane street name or advertisement.

The Oriental love of noise was given full play too. By law every car had to hoot its horn before overtaking, and the Japanese indulged with a row that made Jonquil quite breathless. Half the community seemed to be taking their lives in their hands as bicycles skimmed through the traffic and cars
passed one another on whichever side the driver fancied that he saw an opening.

“You grow accustomed to it,” Jason said, seeing her wide-eyed astonishment. “After you’ve been out in a taxi once or twice you become immune to any further wonder as to how anyone arrives anywhere!”

Tokyo, Jonquil discovered, was not a planned town. The districts ran into each other and were lost in a maze of tiny streets that appeared to lead nowhere. Hardly anyone knew any part of the city other than the area they themselves lived in, not even the postmen. But in the centre, a still hub to the rat race all around it, stood the Empeer’s Palace, surrounded by walls and beautifully set out gardens.

“Unfortunately one can’t go in and explore,” Janet Buckmaster said with real regret. “I should love to see it, just once.”

But Jonquil had no time for regrets, for they had no sooner skirted round the Palace than they were in the Ginza, the Piccadilly, the Fifth Avenue, of Tokyo. Tall Western-looking shops stood side by side with a multitude of theatres and eating houses, some of them draped with lanterns and all of them bright with neon strip lighting. Advertisements too were everywhere. One of a glass of beer was so realistic that Jonquil could quite well imagine herself drinking it as it slowly emptied, leaving only the dregs of the froth behind.

Then there was the “Asahi” newspaper building, giving the headlines endlessly in both English and Japanese. There was so much to look at that it was impossible to see everything. Two Japanese youths, dressed in Nazi uniforms, had a mock fight and then triumphantly held out a banner urging people to see the latest Hollywood war film. A swarm of sandwich men went up and down advertising something else, and then one of the stores let loose from the roof a whole barrage of balloons that caught the last rays of the sun and looked so lovely that it brought tears to Jonquil’s eyes.

“Mitsukoshi are having a bargain sale,” Yoshiko translated .from one of the boards.

“What are the balloons for?” Jonquil asked her eagerly.

“They’re part of the advertisements. Look, there go some more!”

Shortly after the Ginza they drew up outside a house, set in a lovely little garden, filled with weeping willow trees and a small lake, in spite of its being almost in the centre of the city.

“Here we are!” Mrs. Buckmaster exclaimed. “You must be very glad to see where you’re going to live for the next few weeks. I’ll take you straight to your room and then I can show you around properly after we’ve had something to
eat.”

To Jonquil’s joy, the house had been built in the Japanese style and the Buckmasters had furnished it accordingly, loving the sparing, modern lines that the Japanese have always held to be
their ideal.

T
hey passed through sliding doors into the hall and kicked off their shoes, replacing them with soft slippers, Yoshiko going down on to her knees to do the men’s for them, turning the gesture into a graceful compliment, welcoming them into the
house.

Mrs. Buckmaster led the way down the wide corridor towards the bedrooms and slid open one of the doors.

“This will be where you’ll sleep,” she smiled
.
“Alexander’s room is next door, so that it will be handy for you.”

She showed Jonquil where she could hang her clothes and then left her to explore the room on her own.

“Just follow your nose when you’re ready,
”
she said. “Someone is sure to be in the living room.
”

It was a perfectly simple room, with nothing more than a low divan in one corner. Everything was hidden away behind doors’ except for one Japanese print of a flower which held the place of honour in the centre of the wall.

As soon as she was ready, Jonquil made her way down the corridor and found the sitting room. Some attention had been paid to European comfort here, for occidentals just don t have the same ability to sit on their own legs for any
length of time. It still had the appearance of uncluttered
simplicity, though, that had made the rest of the house so pleasing.

Only Jason was sitting in the room. He stood up as she entered and placed a little bowl of wa
rm
ed wine between them.

“Yoshiko insists that we go through the whole formula,” he smiled at her, “so we always do when she’s here.”

Carefully, he took a wine glass and held it out to her and, wondering a little, she took it so that he could fill it for her.

“Now sip it,” he instructed her.

Obediently
she
did so, draining the glass of the tiny amount of liquid that he had put in it.

“Now what do I do?” she asked.

“You swill it out in the bowl of water and hand it to me,” he told her, watching her solemnly to make sure that she did it properly.

Jonquil could see her hand trembling slightly and hoped that he hadn’t noticed. If only, she thought—
b
ut there was no good in thinking about what might have been. Jason had only been doing his duty, as had been made quite plain to her.

She poured out some of the liquid into the glass and watched him drink it.

“What is this stuff?” she asked.

“Sake. It’s made from rice. Don’t you like it?”