The Broken Hearts Honeymoon Page 10

  I pulled the waist of my jeans up and over my teenage belly as much as I could, hoping Matt didn’t notice. He’d seen my belly, of course, but still, looking at those tanned and toned athletes from the US and Australia about to take to the court had me feeling like I needed to do a little more.

  It was late and Marissa was yawning, though none of us wanted to leave. Mara had managed to book all of us – me, Matt, Mum, and all my brothers and sisters – tickets for the beach volleyball at the London Olympics and it was perfection. When we had arrived, the sun was just dipping over Horse Guards Parade and we took our seats in the big purple stadium, facing the sandy court. The atmosphere was electric, people were cheering and drinking beer and everyone was happy no matter which team won. It was the most exciting thing most of us had ever been to, and to think we nearly didn’t make it.

  We had been completely divided with what we wanted to try and get tickets for. Mum wanted to see synchronised swimming, Gray wanted to see athletics in the main stadium, Marissa was gunning for diving because she was in love with Tom Daley, Matt and I were praying for basketball and Mara said she didn’t care but I know she wanted Benny to see the wrestling, since that had been her sport for a short while. We couldn’t possibly see separate things, as you can imagine, so we went backwards and forwards until Mara, sensible Mara, bought a batch of tickets for beach volleyball so none of us could have been disappointed. And we sure weren’t.

  This is why I’ve always watched the Olympics, every time it’s been on. Not because I was a big fan of any one sport, though there were certain ones I always enjoyed watching, but because I imagined how exciting it would be to be an Olympian. To travel to a new country and be part of something as a team. But also on your own, responsible for your own training and destiny and results. To have a purpose that’s all yours. And to remind me to take a trip to the gym once in a while.

  I take a last look at the Olympic stadium and imagine it spilling over with visitors and locals, happy crowds coming together to celebrate the hard work of others, while millions more watch from their television screens around the world. I take some video, and know I will look back on it when I’m back in the UK, joining the millions watching the Olympics on TV, soaking in the atmosphere as it spreads like lava around the world. I wonder if by then I’ll have figured out what my purpose is.

  The next stop on our group tour of Tokyo is the Sumida Hokusai Museum, dedicated to one of Japan’s most famous artists, Katsushika Hokusai. He did a series of woodblock prints titled Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji and the most recognised one is called The Great Wave off Kanagawa.

  Now, maybe you already know all about this image, but it isn’t until Flo and I are staring at the piece inside the museum, with matching tilted heads and ‘where have I seen that before …’ expressions that it comes to me and I pull out my iPhone.

  ‘It’s the flippin’ wave emoji!’ I show Flo and she peers at my screen.

  ‘You’re right, it is, it’s got the same claw-like little frothy tips, and the same formation of the water.’

  ‘Fancy that. I’ve been a fan of Hokusai longer than I realised; I use that emoji all the time.’

  ‘Same.’

  We mosey through the rest of the museum as a group before Kaori has us all back on the bus for a short journey to the Asakusa neighbourhood, where we spend a couple of hours strolling about, nibbling on street food and shopping. We split up here, with Flo and Lucas taking a rickshaw ride, Cliff and Jack stopping in at a sit-down eatery to rest their legs, and I end up trailing about after Kaori, who is so sweet and doesn’t seem to mind and, in fact, without her I wouldn’t have tried kibidango.

  After we purchase these sweet treats, which are warm little dumplings on a skewer, times five, covered in sweet powdered soy beans, Kaori walks us towards the river and Sumida Park to eat them.

  ‘It’s lovely weather today,’ I say to Kaori once we reach the park and I’ve scoffed two of my five yummy skewers. ‘Good weather to go up one of the world’s tallest buildings.’

  ‘Yes, hare – sunny.’

  ‘Ha-re,’ I repeat.

  ‘Correct. At this time of the year there is often a lot more rain, like yesterday, but we’re lucky.’

  ‘It must be very ha-re on the island you grew up on. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘No, I am a single child.’

  ‘Wow, I have four brothers and sisters, it’s like a commune in our house.’ I can’t imagine being an only child. Who would tell me what to do?

  We walk through the park, pretty with pale pink cherry blossoms on the trees, and down some steps so we’re beside the river for a while.

  ‘Do you like Japan so far?’ Kaori asks.

  ‘It’s amazing, it’s so different from anywhere I’ve been before and it’s only, what, my fourth day here and I’ve done so much. Eaten sugary crêpes in Harajuku, visited a shrine, spent the day at Disneyland, had my mind blown at Borderless, dined on traditional Japanese cuisine, been to the kabuki theatre, stayed at the Lost in Translation hotel, looked at the Olympic Stadium, seen the wave emoji in real life … I’m actually a little exhausted!’ I can’t believe how much I’ve done already. Anyone would think I was trying to stay busy and distracted …

  ‘Tomorrow will be more relaxing for you, just a lovely soothing train ride to Kyoto then free time until dinner. Maybe have some …’ She mimics falling asleep on her hands and then becomes serious. ‘I am sorry about your marriage, Charlotte. I hope this tour is good for you and not too hard. Because of the nature of the tour I am obligated to make it, in some places, quite, you know, romantic.’

  I’m just taking a bite into my last kibidango, and in my attempt to breezily shoo away her worries I snarf a plume of soy-bean dust towards her, which I then brush off her coat using equally dusty fingers. ‘Gosh, sorry. Um, no, please don’t worry about that, I don’t want you to change a thing for me, the others all deserve a really lovely trip with all the romantic honeymoon frills they want. Just promise you’ll pair up with me if we do any couple’s massages,’ I joke and then quickly eat the last few bites to hide my cringe at my inappropriateness.

  But Kaori laughs and agrees; she’s so lovely. I notice she has some kibidango left and get an idea.

  ‘Kaori, I’m doing a bit of a vlog while I’m out here, which I’m putting on Instagram using IGTV. Could I feature you in one of the videos? If you wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘Feature me?’ She looks quite chuffed! ‘Yes please, would you be able to tag the tour company? My manager really likes it when our customers tag us on social media. What shall I do?’

  I think on the spot, glancing around at the river, at the Skytree in the background, at the sunshine above and have a brainwave like I’m a Hollywood director or something. ‘How about “Kaori’s 5 Favourite Foods to Try in Tokyo”? Perhaps starting with kibidango, since you’re holding one. If that’s not putting you on the spot too much?’

  She’s great and bubbly on screen, waving to the viewers, and listing off five foods with confidence and certainty, peppering each with yummy noises, and luckily most things she says are morsels I’ve tasted over the past few days, so will be able to slot in a photo or video frame or two. Afterwards, she insists on taking the camera and filming me, walking by the river, looking up at the newly sprouting cherry blossoms, pointing at the Skytree, trying to speak Japanese to a shop seller.

  ‘When we are up there and the sun is setting, let me take some more video with you in, it will be so beautiful and your ex-boyfriend will feel so stupid.’ She then demurs a little as if worried she’s crossed a line, but I laugh. I’m sure it will be beautiful at the top of the Skytree, but I’m also sure it’ll have nothing to do with me.

  That said, leaning my forehead against the warm glass, looking down over the city, I do feel like I might be quite beautiful now I’m up here, in a free spirit, face-to-the-sunshine way. We’re 450 metres up in the sky, which is roughly level with the spike at the top of the Empire S
tate Building in New York. In front of me is a rose-gold tinted soft grey Tokyo winding down for the day as the sun dips. I take a moment to just be here and to soak it in.

  After a while and a walk around, where Kaori points out to us the sites of Tokyo, including the stadium, Tokyo Tower, Disneyland, the park we’d just been in and even Mount Fuji in the very distance, we come to a stop and watch the city light up the dark night. We climb onto bar stools at the cafe, in a row so we’re all looking out at the view, and are presented with a glass of champagne to sip.

  Cliff and Jack lean into each other, Flo and Lucas do the same, and I lean back in to my friend the window.

  Another glass of champagne each, an extra hour into the evening, and the lights of Tokyo fully illuminated below our dangling feet, and the conversation has moved on to weddings. It was inevitable. And it’s fine, sort of. Well, it’s more fine than I thought it would be. It’s quite soothing hearing Cliff describe in detail the simple ceremony he and Jack had in Carmel, California. The look of the ranch, the sound of the sea. And then in contrast Flo and Lucas were married in a big marquee in a vineyard in southern Australia in a ceremony that lasted days thanks to visitors from all over the country travelling far and staying a while. I can tell that at one point Flo feels a little awkward around me when she was passing round her phone to show the photos of her and Lucas walking arm and arm back down the aisle as husband and wife, as though she were somehow rubbing her happiness in my face.

  ‘So Charlotte, what lies in store for you back in England?’ asks Jack, drawing me into the conversation. ‘You mentioned you’re moving to London? Who are you at home when you’re not adventuring around the world solo?’

  I take a sip of champagne, letting the glass mask part of my face for a moment while I search for an answer. Going home meant starting a new life, one that had felt so mapped out and is now so unplanned.

  ‘Yep, I’m supposed to be moving to London,’ I say, and I grin through the fear. ‘I’m starting an internship at a travel magazine that I’ve been a big fan of for years and it’s really exciting.’

  ‘That is exciting,’ says Lucas. ‘Working for a magazine sounds great fun, and London is a great city. I lived in Fulham for a little while in my early twenties. Where are you going to be living?’

  ‘Um, well, that’s where the plan falters. I have two sisters in London who would probably let me stay for a bit but if I go I’d need to start house-hunting for a place of my own or, more likely, a house share with some strangers.’ Did they hear my voice wobble at the end or did it get caught by the breeze and whisked away? ‘The plan had been for me and Matt, my fiancé, to move into a flat together,’ I explained. ‘But, you know …’

  ‘Well, that’s bloody bad luck,’ says Flo. ‘Though I’m sure you’ll find somewhere fantastic to live, and I hope Matt’s place has cockroaches.’

  I spot Kaori shuffling about nervously, keen to get the conversation back on a happier track. Shit. She must be worried her Honeymoon Highlights tour is going to be one big downer thanks to yours truly.

  I slap on a big fake smile and push the hair out of my face. I’m the odd one out here, these nice people deserve a happy, romantic trip. I will go with the flow, follow the crowd and mask my feelings. Maybe I can fake it until I make it out the other side of this heartache? ‘Right, we’ve heard about the weddings, now please renew my faith in love. Tell me about how you all first met. Cliff and Jack, you go first.’

  Kaori relaxes and pulls her sweater around her, and Flo pulls Lucas around her. I pull myself together.

  Cliff smiles at his husband. ‘Well we met a very long time ago, and we waited a long ol’ time to be able to get married …’

  It’s not actually that late, but we’re all sleepy and silent on the minibus drive back to the hotel, ready to call it a night. I stare out of the window at the signs and the lights and imagine I’m an actress in a film noir wondering where her life got so derailed. I let out a dramatic little sigh.

  Oh dammit, I forgot to get any video at the top of the Skytree! I reach for my phone and flick through my photos, hoping I can montage something together for my IGTV without it looking like a slideshow presentation from 1998.

  A pop-up window fills my phone screen – AirDrop, Kaori would like to share a video. I glance towards Kaori, sitting up the front next to the driver and she turns around and gives me a thumbs-up, so I press ‘Accept’. And there’s exactly what Kaori promised – a beautiful video thirty seconds long, the rose gold sunset over Tokyo and me, my forehead against the window, taking it in, unaware of the camera, feeling free, and being completely myself.

  Chapter 8

  Fast as a bullet

  I dive down into this hole

  I’m burrowing deep

  Have you ever been on one of those theme-park rollercoasters where you’re strapped in and you’re jiggling a bit with excitement and you’re like yesss bitch, let’s do this but also I wish I’d tied my hair back but it’s too late now because any second the ride is going to shoot forward at a million miles an hour? This is how I’m expecting the bullet train from Tokyo to Kyoto to be.

  I’m next to Kaori, she’s given me the window seat, and I’m clutching my coffee and my Japanese snacks, which I’m looking forward to finding out whether they’re sweet or savoury. Whatever they are, they’re decorated with little smiling mascot cartoons, so that’s nice. I’m holding everything really tightly for when we zoom out of the station, which – if rumours of rail service punctuality are to be believed – will be in three, two, one …

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kaori asks with a smile as the bullet train glides away from the platform with a gentle confidence. Am I supposed to scream if I want to go faster?

  I look around, at the people in the seat behind me, at Cliff and Jack in the seat in front. ‘Isn’t this the bullet train?’

  ‘Yes, it will speed up in a moment, but you won’t really feel it, you will just see the scenery go by very quickly. I have seated us all on the right-hand side so you will see Mount Fuji if the weather stays nice.’

  ‘Cool,’ I reply. ‘It feels like a normal train, then … No, I don’t mean normal, I just mean, you know, like the ones I’m used to. Very comfy,’ I add, in case I’ve offended her. It is lovely inside this train – soft seats, good leg room, very peaceful, nobody on their phones.

  I get out my phone. Not to make a call, though! Just to capture some video. I try whispering a little commentary but I expect that it’ll come out sounding like I’m some pervert heavy-breathing behind the lens. It takes about two and a half hours to travel from Tokyo to Kyoto and I settle back in my seat, allowing the gentle rhythm to massage away the busy last few days. Mount Fuji greets us, sloped and snow-capped and looking every bit the picture-perfect holiday brochure snap. There is an audible ‘ooo’ from inside the quiet cabin, followed by click-click-click from cameras and phones. Mine included.

  I watch it all the way until it disappears behind us. The last two nights of the tour will bring us back to Mount Fuji, where we’ll be staying in a traditional Japanese ryokan. That’ll be a little over three weeks away, and I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment. In three weeks’ time I have to have my life figured out.

  After Fuji, the rest of the landscape becomes less urban, greener, and we travel alongside glittery lakes and faraway mountain ranges. It’s beautiful, but it’s the unknown and even though I’ve only ‘known’ Tokyo for a few days it felt reliable, comfortable, a whirlwind I had tamed, and the further we stretch away from the city the stranger I feel, the unknown settling upon me and reminding me how derailed I am.

  The unknown is good, change is good, I tell myself. And Kyoto is supposed to be amazing, the cultural centre of Japan. I know I’ll love it. At least I think I will.

  I turn in my seat and crane my neck to look back towards the long-disappeared Tokyo, at my past, and although I’m surrounded by people, I feel very alone.

  I crouch down and peer into the tunnel
I’ll be sleeping in. So this is what a capsule hotel looks like. My pod is long and sparkling with what looks like enough room to sit up in. There’s no window, but there is a personal lamp, a shelf, bedding, and a curtain to pull across once you’re in.

  ‘Is this okay?’ whispers Kaori, putting her own handbag a few pods further down, and both Flo and I nod.

  Men and women sleep on separate floors in this hotel – not ideal for a Honeymoon Highlights tour, which is why Kaori’s guests have the option to switch to a regular hotel for their next three nights in Kyoto if they feel one night of this experience is enough.

  The hotel is clean and simple and has all the sleek design and sharp technology you’d expect. We’ve been asked to leave our larger bags and our shoes in lockers, we’ve been shown where the shared lounges are, we have a little bag with slippers, a towel and free pyjamas!!! and now I’ve got my head inside pod 283. It’s dark in the corridor between the pods, and no matter the time of day we’ve been asked to keep the noise to a minimum once you enter the space to let people sleep. It’s so harmonious I’m forgetting it’s still the middle of the afternoon outside and am stifling a yawn.

  Kaori beckons us out from the women’s dorm and we follow her to one of the lounges, where there is free tea on tap, which I help myself to, and then start browsing a shared bookshelf.

  Once the boys have arrived, Kaori tells us, ‘The rest of the day is yours to rest or explore or do whatever you like. I will be staying here in the lounge and doing some work, so if you need any hints or tips for things to do, just ask me, I have lots of ideas. Tonight we can eat together or alone; your choice. Kyoto is a very pretty and historic place and you will find lots of nice and romantic things waiting for you.’