He won’t be coming tonight. He’d packed his bags and was off first thing this morning. As I sit on the bar stool watching holiday makers strolling in for their pre-dinner drinks my mind still sees him striding towards the bar, how our eyes had locked and my heart begun to thump uncontrollably.
I should be feeling happy, on top of the world. I’m in my dream location, as a holiday rep escorting groups on tours of Japan. I’m here again for the whole season.
Spring through to autumn. Cherry blossom when trees are ablaze with colour, then the rich aroma of the lotus flowers as they emerge on lakes and ponds, right through to autumn when maple trees take on their fiery splendour. It’s a lovely hotel right on Tokyo’s sea front.
The group I am looking after are pleasant and enthusiastic. Yet, this evening I cannot shake off the gloom that is overwhelming me. I must pull myself together.
Remember the joyful two weeks when he was here. The first outing for that group was to a typical Japanese garden where I led them along the winding paths beneath perfectly manicured trees, pausing to take in a gushing waterfall, then follow its route as it rippled and gurgled over shiny smooth pebbles and under tiny bridges. I had to be careful not to let my eyes veer towards him and distract me from my guests.
He didn’t make it easy for me as his eyes rarely left me. When he took my hand to steady me on stepping stones across a lake it was warm and reassuring. Then on to the bonsai gard.