‘He’s bringing his friends tonight,’ added Kawagishi. ‘One of them might take a fancy to you, Kawanagi!’
‘Or you, Kawagishi,’ said Kawanagi.
‘Or both of us,’ they chorused with peals of laughter.
Even sulky Kawayu had come to visit, though Hana suspected she was just hoping to profit from Hana’s triumph. After a hard night servicing clients, her hair was like a bird’s nest and she had a shabby unwashed gown tied roughly around her. She gave off a sour odour as if she had rushed out without bothering to bathe.
‘Ever since you came you’ve been Auntie’s favourite,’ she said, spitting out the words. ‘Auntie’s always bragging about you and I certainly can’t imagine why. There can’t be any other reason Saburo would pick you.’
‘Saburo knows quality when he sees it,’ observed Tama mildly. ‘A big spender like him only comes once in a generation.’ Hana smiled at her gratefully.
Tama was the only person who was not sunk in gloom, eaten up with envy or burbling with excitement. She was like a cat sitting over a mousehole, poised and still.
With no make-up and a plain cotton gown carelessly wrapped around her big body, there was no hiding the fact that Tama was a heavy-featured peasant girl, but she still exuded glamour. She sat, legs folded under her, smoking pipe after pipe, dispensing advice. Maids ran in to serve tea, a troupe of geishas scurried in to discuss which dances they should do that evening, then jesters arrived to check the order of entertainment and the maids lined up, asking which kimonos to wear.
‘Men are foolish creatures,’ Tama continued. ‘Remember that Shojiro, when you first came, Hana, the one who thought he could get away with visiting another courtesan as well as me? Chidori spotted him as he was sneaking out of the Matsubaya and we held him down and snipped off his topknot, didn’t we, Chidori!’
Hana made an effort to smile. She knew Tama was trying to take her mind off the coming ordeal.
‘And those Englishmen,’ Tama added, winking at Hana. The very thought of the Englishmen was usually enough to make the girls laugh until their stomachs hurt. ‘To start with, all they ever said was, “Oh, I couldn’t do this, oh, I couldn’t do that!” ’ She crinkled her face and drew her head back in an expression of outraged disapproval. ‘They were a bit old to start learning, but I gave them a few lessons anyway and, would you believe it, there’s no stopping them now. Mind you, I always make sure they have a good bath before they come anywhere near me. They say in their country they only bathe once a week. Imagine that! Anyway, they must be satisfied because they’ve sent their friends along. But it’s the Frenchmen I like. They’ll try anything.’
Chidori bounced in from the balcony and pirouetted in the middle of the floor, red sleeves swinging.
‘Watch,’ she piped. ‘This is the dance I’m going to do tonight.’
She lifted her chubby arms, pouted seriously and took a step or two, then stopped, ran over and put her arms around Hana.
‘I’ll miss you, big sister,’ she said earnestly in her little-girl squeak. ‘I wish you weren’t leaving.’
Hana bent her head to hide her tears as the door opened and Otsuné appeared, carrying an enormous bundle. She smiled reassuringly at Hana then put her bundle down and started laying out combs and crimping irons and opening tubs of wax and pomade, filling the room with musky smells. Tama turned languidly to the attendants.
‘Kawagishi, Kawanagi, Kawayu – and you, Chidori and Namiji. Be off with you, to my rooms now. Time to get ready. I’ll be along in a moment.’
Chidori opened her mouth to complain but Tama frowned and shook her finger and the little girl filed out behind the others. Tama dismissed the maids too and the room fell silent as Otsuné took a curling iron from the brazier and began to tug and stretch Hana’s thick black hair.
‘Auntie’s on her way: there’s not much time,’ she said.
Hana swung round to stare at her.
‘We need to make preparations if you’re to get out of here tonight.’
Hana’s heart began to thump. Now she realized why Tama had been sitting so quietly with such a strange look on her face. Yozo had kept his word.
‘You must make sure no one – especially Saburo – suspects anything,’ Otsuné whispered. ‘Act happy and excited, make him think you’re thrilled to be his concubine, that you’ve been waiting for him eagerly – you know what I mean.’
Hana nodded breathlessly. ‘That’s not difficult. I do it every day with every client.’
‘And when I give a signal, be ready to leave,’ said Tama.
‘What sort of signal?’ Hana gasped.
‘You’ll know when you see it. But first we have to put Auntie off the scent.’ Otsuné bent over Hana’s hair again, applying curling irons as footsteps came hobbling along the corridor and Auntie shuffled in wearing a shabby gown, her face lined and sallow and bare of make-up.
She had a long scroll of paper in her hand and brushes tucked into her sash and was mumbling to herself, ‘Thirty lacquered trays, thirty soup bowls, thirty small square plates, thirty shallow oval dishes …’ Her jaw dropped as she saw the empty room and she gave a squawk of disbelief.
‘What’s happened? Where is everyone? This is the most important day in the history of the Corner Tamaya. They should all be here, helping Hana get ready.’
‘Auntie, Auntie,’ gushed Tama. ‘Thank goodness you’ve come. Those foolish girls were fighting about who would sit near Saburo and who would get the best kimono, the one with the gold chrysanthemums on it. Then Kawayu accused Kawagishi of stealing her clients and started pulling her hair and pushing her around. I think she might have torn her kimono sleeve.’
‘That Kawayu, not again,’ said Auntie with a grunt, pursing her lips. ‘We really should get rid of her.’
‘They were making such a commotion, I sent them all to my rooms.’
‘You’re quite right. Hana needs peace and quiet to compose herself before her performance tonight.’
Hana sat silently, hoping Auntie wouldn’t notice the strain on her face.
‘I’ve quietened them down, Auntie. You couldn’t have done any better,’ said Tama in challenging tones.
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Auntie, rising to the bait. ‘This is no time for fighting.’ And she barged out of the room with Tama at her heels.
Otsuné and Hana held their breath until the footsteps had faded into the distance, then Otsuné dug into her bundle. Underneath the hairpins and strings of turquoise and coral was a pile of faded clothes, neatly folded. She thrust them into Hana’s hands.
‘Quickly, put these on,’ she hissed. While Otsuné kept watch, Hana ran to the sleeping chamber, hid behind a screen and stripped to her red silk underskirt. She pulled on a pair of narrow-legged indigo trousers such as a peasant woman or an apprentice would wear and tucked the underskirt in as smoothly as she could. She fumbled with the drawstring of the trousers, her hands shaking so much she could hardly tie the knots, then realised with a shock of horror that they were on back to front and hastily tore them off, turned them round and put them on again. Then she put on an over-blouse, feeling the scratch of the rough fabric against the delicate skin of her breasts, slipped on an underkimono and a kimono on top of that, entirely covering the skimpy cotton clothes underneath, and scurried back to the reception room. She could feel the trousers catching in her skirts and twisting around her legs, threatening to trip her.
‘Do they show?’ she whispered, twirling around, trying to see herself in the mirror. ‘Don’t they look bulky?’
‘You can’t see a thing even now and once you’re properly dressed no one will notice them at all,’ Otsuné said calmly.
All the same, Hana’s heart thumped and her breath came in shallow gasps as she realized what a risk they were taking. To play with a man like Saburo was madness. He had bought her for a huge sum of money, she was his property; there was nothing to stop him killing her if he so desired. But he wouldn’t, she told herself. She was
too valuable an investment and her looks offered a sort of protection; he wouldn’t want to damage such beauty. Yozo was another matter, though. It made no difference how brave he was or how skilled a soldier; Saburo had far too many bodyguards for him to fight them all.
Otsuné put her arm around her.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Even if Yozo doesn’t come for you tonight and you have to leave with Saburo, he’ll find you and he and Jean will rescue you. You can trust Yozo. Jean too.’ Otsuné held out a purse.
‘No, no, I have money,’ said Hana, her voice shaking.
‘Take this too, take all you have. Hide it in your sleeves, anywhere you can.’
Hana bit her lip and closed her eyes. She had to remain calm, whatever happened.
‘For long life and safe travel,’ said Otsuné, tucking the purse along with an amulet into Hana’s sleeve. Hana took a deep breath and settled down in front of the mirror, feeling the cotton trousers rough against the inside of her thighs, while Otsuné took the curling irons off the brazier and set to work in earnest on her hair.
35
From her rooms on the upper floor Hana heard the creak of a heavy palanquin being set down and a large body easing itself out, accompanied by pants and groans and grunts of ‘Imbecile! Over here, hold still! What do you think you’re doing?’
She had been hoping something might happen to stop Saburo arriving, but it seemed there was to be no escape. She heard Auntie and the maid calling out a welcome and footsteps lumbering across the house, past the bottom of the staircase, to the grand reception room. Doors opened and shut, guests filed in and she heard the whisper of maids’ feet as they slipped to and fro with trays of food and drink.
Wafting in through the paper screens from the street outside came the twang of shamisens, the beat of drums, the warble of high-pitched voices and the clatter of clogs. Parties were starting all over the Yoshiwara. Saburo had hired all five streets and his guests could wander from house to house enjoying music, dance and dinner and sleeping with whomsoever they pleased, at their host’s expense.
Night fell, filling the room with shadows, as Hana knelt with Chidori and Namiji, awaiting her call. Her mouth was dry and her heart thundering. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw that, instead of Hana, Hanaogi was there, looking back at her like an old friend. She felt a sudden surge of confidence. Hana might be afraid, but Hanaogi was the equal of anyone.
Otsuné had excelled herself. Hana’s face was perfectly painted, her eyes sloe black, her lips crimson petals in a snow-white face, and framed by her kimono collars, one blue with a design of maple leaves, another red with a tracery of gold. Her hair was gathered into a towering glossy creation and on it was a crown dripping with gold ornaments, with strings of turquoise hanging beside her face. She felt the weight of her many-layered kimonos and heard them rustle as she moved. Underneath them all the rub of rough cotton reminded her of the job she had to do.
The little girls looked up at her, their eyes huge. They were as splendidly dressed as she, and as nervous. She took a couple of hairpins out of her hair and gave them one each.
‘For good luck,’ she said. ‘Wear these and you’ll be great courtesans.’
By the time Auntie sent for her the party was well under way. Waiting outside the banqueting hall, Hana could hear the swish of dancing feet, drunken shouts and guffaws of laughter. She drew herself up proudly. She would give them all a show they would never forget.
The doors opened and there was a hush. She stood for a moment so they could look their fill, then slid her bare foot out from beneath the heavy kimono skirts. Gasps rippled through the crowd and there was a scattering of applause and cries of ‘Hanaogi!’
Saburo lay sprawled on brocade cushions on the floor with one arm on an elbow rest, his broad face mottled and purplish. If anything he was even larger than she remembered him. As she met his gaze, inclining her head graciously, she wondered what went on behind that heavy brow and self-satisfied leer and why he had gone to so much trouble to purchase her. Was she a trophy to add to his collection or did he have some other plan for her? He narrowed his eyes and she saw desire burning there and something else that sent a shiver down her spine, something cruel.
Swinging her train behind her, she glided across the room and knelt in front of him. Tama was next to him, in a magnificent black overkimono with an obi heavy with gold and silver embroidery tied in an enormous knot at the front. She passed her a red-lacquered saucer brimming with sake and Hana offered it to Saburo with a bow. The ceremony of union – three sips of sake each from three cups – was over in a moment, but as she took the last sip she felt as if she had crossed a barrier from which she would never return.
Swallowing her panic, she bowed and smiled to the guests. Half the government was there, their faces flushed, raising their sake cups in a toast to the newly joined couple. Scattered over the small tables in front of them were dishes piled with sea urchin eggs, bowls of bonito entrails and slices of squid, carp skeletons with heads and tails intact, slabs of auspicious crane sashimi and rice mixed with clams, a famous aphrodisiac.
The geishas had started dancing again, not the decorous dances that were performed at the beginning of a feast but a wilder, more frenetic dance, driven by the insistent beat of the drums.
Masaharu was on the other side of the room with Kaoru close to him, pressing her knees against his, topping up his sake cup and laughing at his jokes. Hana caught her eye and Kaoru gave her a poisonous smile. Seeing Masaharu’s fine-boned young face, Hana remembered the nights they had spent together and felt a pang of sadness. How simple everything would have been if only Masaharu had taken her as his concubine – but then she would not have met Yozo. The heavy-browed young government official who had sworn he couldn’t live without her threw Hana a lovelorn glance. If he had wanted her that much, she told herself, he could have ransomed her. But in the end another man had bought her freedom. Saburo’s heavy cheeks and the folds of fat under his chin were sticky with sweat. She leaned towards him.
‘Where have you been all this time?’ she scolded playfully. ‘Your work was so important you couldn’t come and visit me even once?’ She pouted. ‘I was beginning to think you didn’t care about me any more.’
He flapped his fan and enveloped her wrist with a clammy hand.
‘You’re mine now, my pretty,’ he said, narrowing his eyes like a frog with a fly in its sights. ‘I can’t wait for all this to be over. I can tell you like naughty games.’
His grip tightened and she felt her willpower ebbing and a spasm of fear tightening in her stomach. Tama put her hand on his damp thigh.
‘You’ve missed a lot of gossip while you’ve been away,’ she said silkily, glancing at Hana out of the corner of her eye. ‘Do you remember Chozan of the Chojiya across the road? You’ll never guess what she did.’
‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ said Saburo, turning lazily towards her.
‘That playboy Sataro – the one who was so keen on her, the son of the rich merchant – she was sure he would marry her if she could convince him she loved him. She thought and thought about how best to prove it, then do you know what she did?’
Saburo shook his head.
‘She wrote him a letter telling him she was going to cut off the top joint of her little finger to prove her love – then did it. You can’t imagine the fuss and the mess. She fainted, of course, and the tip went flying out the window. Then she realized what a silly thing she’d done.’
‘So did he marry her?’
‘Of course not. Who wants a girl with no tip to her finger?’
‘You know what they say,’ said Saburo, glancing at Hana slyly. ‘ “The courtesan’s biggest lie is ‘I love you.’ The client’s biggest lie is ‘I will marry you.’ ” ’
Tama was launching into another funny story when Auntie clapped her hands. ‘Our honoured patron, Saburo-sama, has arranged a special treat for us tonight. Come in, Chubei, don’t be shy!?
??
Chubei was kneeling in the doorway in his wide-sleeved cotton jacket, hands on the ground, bowing. The Corner Tamaya’s chef, he was famous across Edo, and Hana knew him well. He was a kindly man, short and tubby, with a shiny pate and fleshy hands that were always immaculately scrubbed. His one flaw was a weakness for sake and today, as usual, his cheeks were unnaturally flushed. Weaving slightly, he padded across the room and knelt in front of Saburo while white-jacketed apprentices erected a low table and set a couple of large wooden chopping boards on it.
Saburo licked his lips and took a swig of sake and Hana topped up his cup with the warm amber liquid.
‘Chubei,’ he bellowed. The chef quailed under his gaze. ‘Have you forgotten my special order?’
The chef swung round and clapped his hands and a couple of apprentices lugged in a wooden bucket, taking care not to spill a drop of water on the tatami, while the guests sat cross-legged at their tables, watching intently.
The chef tied back his sleeves, then, with the air of a showman, reached in and pulled out a fish, a bloated creature covered in mottled black and browny-orange stripes, with a white under-belly. It was the ugliest fish Hana had ever seen. He held it up in the air and it thrashed violently, spraying water around, opening and closing its small mouth. Tiny teeth glistened inside and its belly was covered in spikes.
‘Fugu,’ said Saburo, his face cracking into a huge smile. ‘Blowfish.’
‘Tiger fugu,’ Chubei corrected him primly, ‘the best there is. If I may say so, it costs a fortune, especially at this time of year.’
‘A feast for a rich man,’ said Saburo, beaming contentedly. ‘And his friends, of course.’
‘You ordered three, your honour. One is already prepared. We have sake with dry-roasted fugu fin ready for you.’
‘All in good time,’ said Saburo. ‘Let’s see you cut this monster first.’
‘We often prepare fugu in front of our diners but it’s the first time I’ve ever done it in a banqueting hall,’ Chubei said, a little nervously. Hana watched uncomfortably. Tama was supposed to be in charge of the proceedings but somehow Saburo had taken over.