Regan was taking a break when her phone rang. ‘Cleo. Hello, are you still in Japan?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Cleo. ‘I’ve got a problem.’ Regan was relieved and worried in the same moment.
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘Because I’m in Mr and Mrs Yomoda’s toilet.’
That just gave Regan more questions. ‘Again, why?’
‘Because,’ continued Cleo in hushed tones, ‘they invited me to their house for dinner. I was going to watch an anime film in my room but I’m a bit sick of hotel food, so thought why not?’
‘That sounds lovely,’ said Regan, thinking that she could do with a nice home-cooked meal herself. ‘What’s the house like?’
‘Er,’ Cleo sounded momentarily thrown by the question. ‘Simple. Boxlike. All painted white.’
‘That’s disappointing. I thought it would be all bright Japanese colours, silky kimonos and lanterns.’
‘Me too, but it’s less geisha and more IKEA.’
‘So what’s your problem?’ asked Regan, checking her watch. She’d never been one for keeping to time, but working for Penny was different and Regan didn’t want to take advantage.
‘They gave me some sort of soup, but it had something large and black lurking in its depths like a bowl-sized kraken. And chopsticks to eat it with!’ said Cleo, her voice rising for the first time. ‘At least at the hotel I could useGoogle Translate and get a rough idea of what I’m eating. Here it would be rude to ask.’
‘Just copy what they do,’ suggested Regan. ‘Or ask for a spoon or a straw.’
‘Right,’ said Cleo, not sounding like her problem had been solved. ‘I’d better go. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I’m okay. Good luck with the kraken.’
‘Thanks.’
The call ended and Regan smiled to herself. Even if Cleo didn’t know it, she was making real strides. The Cleo of old would never have considered leaving the hotel alone – this was definitely progress. Regan was proud of her friend.
That feeling changed a little when just over half an hour later her phone rang again. Regan put her on speakerphone. ‘I’m working … in the office,’ she added. She wasn’t ready to tell Cleo that she’d lost her job yet, or about the lottery debacle, because she couldn’t see a way of telling her without revealing that she was living in the studio or making up more lies.
‘Okay, I’ll be quick,’ said Cleo, still whispering but sounding brighter. ‘I copied them like you suggested and hauled the black stuff up from its lair with the chopsticks. There was lots of the stringy substance so it took a couple of goes. And … it was okay. It was noodles.’
Penny glanced over at Regan and she gave her her best apologetic smile. ‘Well done. That’s great, Cleo. Anything else?’
‘Yes, I’m looking up the next course. I asked what it was and they saidtakoyaki… which is … oh my goodness.’ Cleo went quiet and Regan imagined her going pale at the other end.
‘What is it?’ called Penny over Regan’s shoulder. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t bear the suspense.’
‘Octopus balls,’ replied Cleo in a watery voice.
Regan chortled and then stopped herself. ‘Maybe now would be a good time to tell them you’re a vegetarian.’
Penny gave a belated laugh.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Cleo.
‘Sorry, gotta go,’ said Regan. ‘Good luck!’ She felt a bit guilty as she hastily ended the call.
Regan was apprehensive sitting in the market manager’s office opposite Bernice, who was glaring at the two jam jars. They looked a little prettier since Regan had spent her break tying raffia round them and sticking on labels. Regan wasn’t entirely sure what the end product would look like, but at least she’d made an effort. She’d not realised there was so much involved in producing something as workaday as jam.
Bernice prodded the top of each jar with her finger and the metal emitted a popping sound. ‘They’re not sealed properly.’
‘I already opened them to check they were okay. I mean good. You know, first class.’ Regan decided to shut up.
