Wise men say that it’s
Unwise to wish for what one
Can’t have. They are wrong.
When I was a very small child, my mother, when she had time, would tell me stories of the old days, when she herself had been a child. Her family had been very poor, she said. Catching my look of astonishment, she had smiled fondly at me and shook her head.
“Much poorer than we are now,” she insisted. “At least we have food most of the time and a proper roof over our heads. My father drank a great deal of sake, and was very fond of visiting a particular courtesan, and of course his needs came first, so we were hungry more often than not. When the wind took the thatch from the roof, we were wet and cold until the reeds were ready to be cut, and then we all—except for father, of course—went and cut them and repaired the roof. Even my brothers often went barefoot. No, we are very lucky. If you find a man as good and considerate as your father for a husband, then you should be very thankful.”
I thought about that, and stayed silent. My father often went for weeks without even speaking to me. Although, as I was his only girl child and, hence, worthless unless he decided to sell me as a slave, it was only to be expected. Father did not inspire love in me, only fear.
I had not thought about father in many years. Now, as we traveled the length of Japan to reach Edo, memories of him came back very strongly. And I found myself deeply thankful that I had not remained in my poor village, no doubt to be given in marriage to any man who had a fancy for me. Or—if there had arisen a very bad year when the rice failed and my brothers and father went hungry—I would probably have been sold to a rich man as his slave. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I would have been sold to a man who had more money than my parents, which would not have been difficult.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Callum teased.
I turned back from our carriage window and smiled at him. The carriage was very basic, being pulled by oxen rather than horses. But even that was better than I had expected. When I had left Japan, rich people traveled in palanquins, carried carefully by at least four men. I had traveled in them occasionally, when I had been summoned to attend to a special patron. They were very slow, and not at all comfortable. Poor people had gone on foot, or—if they were a little better off—on a stinking cart, pulled by a donkey that was also used to transport crops and anything else too heavy to be carried on a human back. Admittedly, our oxen were very slow after the horse-drawn carriages I had become accustomed to in Scotland and Virginia, and almost stationary compared to steam trains, but the poor beasts seemed content to travel at a steady amble for hour after hour. Horseback would have been much quicker, but it was unknown for a lady to ride a horse in Japan, and had I attempted it I would have caused so much gossip Edo would have been waiting for my arrival with huge interest. Exactly the sort of interest I was desperate to avoid.
So I sat and swayed to the rhythm of our carriage, and mentally urged the poor beasts onward with every step they took. The Floating World and my daughter were waiting for me. At long last, I was keeping my promise to my dear Kazhua. And to myself. Surely the oxen could go faster. They must. But I wasted my efforts. Nothing made any difference to their slow plod.
“You were miles away,” Callum said gently.
“Not so much miles away as years away. I was thinking back to when I was a child,” I explained. “If somebody had told me then all that would happen in my life, I would have laughed out loud. And,” I added very reluctantly, as my thoughts seemed disloyal even to me, “I couldn’t help but compare this to life outside Japan. All this must seem very old-fashioned to you.” I waved my hand around, indicating not just our lumbering carriage but the countryside around us.
“Not as much as you might think,” Callum said thoughtfully. “Don’t forget, I spent a lot of time in China, and you know how dreadful the backcountry is, where it’s been ravaged by opium addiction.”
I nodded seriously. I would never forget the horror of our journey from the Crimea to Shanghai.
We were silent for a while. The comfortable silence that can only lie between two people who know each other well enough to need no words. I was surprised to find I was becoming reassured by the steady rhythm of our oxen’s hooves, trudging down the miles. If so very little had changed in the rest of Japan, perhaps it might be the same in Edo. Could the Floating World be just as I had left it, apart, of course, from the odd gaijin about the place?
For some reason, my memory went back to my mother again. When I was a young girl and I had whined about some trivial thing, she had always said the same thing. “Be careful what you wish for. You may get it.” Her adult words had passed straight over my head, but as we approached Edo, I understood. At first sight, everything seemed exactly as I had left it. People were everywhere, talking loudly. Bargaining over everything from fish to jade. Carts thronged the narrow streets, occasionally running over a stray foot when the owner was either too slow or too hemmed in to move away briskly enough, then the air was torn by curses. Even the houses were exactly as I remembered them. Nearly all made of wood, with silk or paper screens for windows and doors. Nor had the fashions changed greatly. My kimono and geta would blend in perfectly. Automatically, I scoured the crowd for one face. For a geisha with green eyes and red hair. But she was not there. There were geisha, certainly. Lots of them, tottering on high geta. But they all had black hair and dark brown eyes. I cursed my stupidity in hoping for the impossible.
The more I looked, the more anxious I became. Even though I had longed for Edo to be the same as when I last saw it, now that I thought that it had barely changed at all, I was alarmed. If nothing had changed, then how many people would still remember me? Although I am by nature a modest woman, I have to admit that I was once the most sought after and well-known geisha in the whole of Edo. The common people turned and stared at me in awe when I walked the streets, my maid at my heels. Rich and important men had bid a fortune to take my virginity at my mizuage ceremony. The man who finally won me—Lord Dai—was a fabulously wealthy nobleman. And not only did he pay a high price for me, he risked everything by cheating to get me. A sudden shiver of panic made my stomach clench. Had his terrible secret become common knowledge while I had been away from Edo? If it had, he would have become a laughing stock. His reputation ruined. Unable to show his face in society again. If that had happened, he would, undoubtedly, have blamed me for it. And no matter how long he waited, he would still want his vengeance on me. Suddenly, I understood that my mother’s words had been very wise. I leaned against Callum, hiding my head in his sleeve.
“What is it? We’re here at last. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “But now that I am here, I’m worried. Simon was murdered when he came back here, because of me. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you, husband!”
“It’s not going to happen,” he said simply. “Trust me, Tara. We’re here to find Kazhua. And we will do that, I promise you.”
I smiled tightly. It all seemed so easy when he said it. But the worry refused to leave me. Callum was not Japanese. He could not be expected to understand the terrible consequences involved in losing face. And even if Lord Dai’s secret was still unknown, could any man forget that his bride had run away with her gaijin lover while he had been busy making plans for his own marriage? And I had no doubt that my auntie from the Green Tea House would never forget my betrayal either. And apart from the danger to both Callum and me, if Kazhua was still here in the Floating World, what danger might I be putting her in? I clenched my teeth to stop myself from shrieking out loud.
“We are here. Neither you nor I am going to back down now.” Callum’s voice was calm. “Could you live with yourself if you did?”
I nodded silently. He was right, of course. I raised my head and stared out of the glassless carriage window. A stray breeze carried the scent of geranium to me, lifting from the crowd that surged around us. Japanese people rarely wear scent. Very high ranking courtesans might rub a little scented oil onto their skin, but that was enough. The scent I could smell now came from the clothes of the crowd. Clothes were folded away with crushed jako seeds—a type of musk geranium—strewn amongst them, both to preserve their freshness and to deter moths. I inhaled deeply, and the years rolled away. Poor as we had been when I was young, even my mother had used jako seeds when she put freshly laundered clothes away. Although she, of course, grew the geraniums and gathered the seeds. We would never have had enough money to actually buy such fripperies.
Nostalgia made me close my eyes in almost as much pain as pleasure. Callum put his hand on my arm. I opened my eyes to look at his face and I smiled. He was right. I was home. Back within touching distance of my daughter. All the longing and dreams of those many years came back to me on the subtle perfume of geranium seeds. How could I ever have doubted that I was doing the right thing. The only thing.
“Are you all right?” Callum asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yes. I just realized suddenly that I was back. That I’m really here, back in Edo. Nothing seems to have changed at all. I can’t believe it.” I paused, marshaling my thoughts. “Kazhua will have changed, though. She was only hours old when I had to leave her. But I’ll know her, Callum. Even if she didn’t have such distinctive eyes and hair, I would know my own daughter when I found her. But why should she know me? I’m going to be a complete stranger to her. After all, she’s managed without me all these years, so why should she care?”
My voice became shrill with panic as the old fears threatened to overwhelm me. Callum wrapped his arms around me and held me very tightly. I felt as if he was willing me to believe in his own certainty and I relaxed slightly.
“We will find her, Tara-chan,” Callum said gently. “If she is here in Japan, then we will find her. I can’t lie to you, I hope and pray that she will have been told about you, and that she will have longed to be reunited with you just as much as you have with her. But I don’t know.”
I wanted him to reassure me. To tell me my fears were groundless. That by some miracle everything would be all right. Not to be brutally honest. I stared out of the carriage window, suddenly reluctant to see the geisha with the green eyes.