WHAT ELSE could politicians and teenage girls POSSIBLY talk about?

“Drawing,” she whispered, her face burning. “Drawing Disney characters.”

“I’ll take you to Tokyo Disneyland,” the man said, smiling.

A heavy-faced geisha named Kazumi was sitting on the other side of the guest. Before Toshimi arrived, she had been chatting with him, flattering, making him laugh. Nowshe shot her a glance. Toshimi flinched. Shemust not overstep the mark.

Kazumi started chatting with the guest again and soon had him roaring with laughter. Toshimi sat back, relieved. Then the customer turned back to her. “Where are you from?” he asked. “Shodo Island,” she murmured, looking down at her small white hands folded in her lap. S hodo Island. She pictured the beautiful island, until recently the only place she had ever been in the world, and was filled with homesickness.

Her name had been Chieko, not Toshimi. She saw the little fishing village with its maze of back alleys, her parents’ small house with the concrete wall, her big dog with his furry coat that she loved to bury her face in. How she missed him!

She smelled the sea and the mouthwatering aromas emanating from the tiny cluttered kitchen as her father parked his pick-up, pulled off his boots, came in and squatted cross-legged on the floor, picking up the newspaper while she and her brothers and sisters sat on the rice straw matting doing their homework.

She remembered the beaches, the groves of olive and orange trees, the temples and the steep wooded hills. Her eyes filled with tears.

She thought of Jun, with his open face and big smile. He was a fisherman’s son, strong and handsome, some ten years older than her. They would walk on the beach holding hands, talking about the future. He was going to transform this island, he’d say, create industries, employ new fishing techniques, bring the place up to date. Perhaps she might even be his helpmate, he would add, glancing at her.

She’d listened admiringly. She had no idea what she wanted yet. Yet she knew there was a big, wide world across the water. She hoped she might glimpse it.

Then one day she’d seen a TV programme about the geisha of Kyoto, “geiko” as they were called. They’d looked so magical with their serene

white faces, brilliantly coloured kimonos and long, flapping sleeves. She’d yearned to glide through the ancient streets like them, as gorgeous as a bird of paradise.

So the seed was planted. At first it was just a daydream. Then one day she mentioned it to her parents. Her father told her not to be so stupid. “You know what those women have to do,” he said sternly.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about it?” she murmured.

A few months later she took Chieko aside. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “But I’ve been in touch with an old school friend. She was so beautiful, we all knew she’d go places. Turns out she’s become a geisha in Kyoto. She runs her own house and has maiko she’s training.

“I’ve talked to her about you. With that pretty face of yours you’re wasted on this island. She’ll teach you good manners, introduce you to powerful men. You might meet a rich husband.”

Chieko hesitated. It was a thrilling thought, but it seemed like a huge step. And there was Jun. She’d always talked about everything with him. He would be sad – and she would miss him too.

“You don’t have to go for ever,” her mother said. “You can go for a year. Then you decide if you want to stay another five years. It’ll be a huge adventure.”

Chieko ran to Jun’s house, bursting with excitement, and poured out this new development. A wistful look flickered across his face. Then he frowned, pressed his lips together and said firmly, “Your mother’s right. You must go. It’s the chance of a lifetime. It’s only for a year. And you’ll learn somuch.”

Her mother had come with her all the way to Kyoto. They’d taken a couple of ferries to the mainland, trundled along in a train, then splurged on a taxi to the geisha house. Chieko had felt terribly forlorn as she saw her mother leave. A year suddenly seemed a very long time.

Here she didn’t know a soul, and no one knew her. She had to get used to calling her mother’s old friend, the regal, frosty owner of the geisha house, Mother. She had to lose her rustic accent and learn to talk in a girlish falsetto, using the special geisha words. She had to walk with a kimono wrapped round her legs when she’d always run around in jeans. She had her hair pulled and stretched and sculpted and at night had to sleep on a wooden block instead of a pillow so it wasn’t mussed. She didn’t even recognise herself.

A month after she’d arrived, she’d been given a new name in a solemn ceremony. Shewasn’t Chieko any more but Toshimi. She had been reborn, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. She was on her way to becoming a seller of dreams.

Afew days after that first party Toshimi was teetering between the dark wooden houses of the geisha district, pondering her new life. In her tight kimono and high clogs she felt hobbled.

“Don’t they teach you anything?” shrilled a voice suddenly.

Toshimi gave a start. It was one of the “Mothers”, the old ladies who ran the geisha houses. She’d been so caught up in thought she’d forgotten she was supposed to bow and greet them whenever she passed one on the street.

“Where are your manners?” demanded the old woman. “You think you’re a geisha? A geisha is more than clothes. It’s a calling. It’s what you are inside.”

Toshimi took a breath. It would never do to answer back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to –” “Don’t go contradicting me,” snapped the woman. “You must know the saying. If Mother says grass is black, it’s black.”

Toshimi sighed as she bowed and went on her way. There was so much to learn – not just dancing, playing the shamisen and the shoulder drum, singing – but how to get on in this place where everyone watched you, waiting for you to make a slip. The perpetual sniping was beginning to get her down.

The hour for dance class came round. The teacher had been a legendary beauty and a famous dancer and still carried herself very straight. The class were all practising when she called on Toshimi to demonstrate what she had just learned.

Toshimi tried and tried but there was one step she couldn’t get right.

“Can’t you learn anything?” barked the teacher. “You have bone for a head. You young people are spoilt. I used to dance until I couldn’t feel my legs. I used to stand outside in the snow and practise singing at the top of my voice. I don’t know what you’re doing here. You’ll never learn. You don’t havewhat it takes.”

On the way home Toshimi could hardly hold back her tears. Fumio, one of her fellow students, a taxi driver’s daughter from Osaka, ran after her.

“Don’t mind her,” she said. “Her bark is worse than her bite. It’s part of your training to get used to her sharp tongue.”

That evening there was another party. As Toshimi’s mother had promised, she was meeting powerful men – executives, politicians, people a country girl like her would never expect to meet. She plied them with sake, answered their questions shyly, and danced for them.

She saw how the older geisha flirted with them, telling them they were madly in love with them, and her heart sank.

Was thiswhat itwas all about, flattering grizzled old men in the hope of a tip? She yearned for Jun with his down-toearth attitude and the way he threw back his head and laughed. At least it was only a year, she told herself, as she topped up the old men’s sake again.

She was walking home when Kazumi came up behind her. Toshimi had talked to the customers, including Kazumi’s favourite. She had to. That was her job.

“You haven’t been here long,” Kazumi cooed. “You’re not used to our ways yet. But you’ll have to learn your place.” Her tone turned rough. “Don’t go pushing yourself in. Look at you, you can’t even walk properly. Anyone can see you’re from the backwoods.”

Tears sprang to Toshimi’s eyes.

“It’s part of your TRAINING to get USED to her sharp TONGUE”

The days and months went by. She learned dancing and music and singing and in the evenings she went to parties. She watched and listened, paying attention to how to behave, how to keep the conversation light and entertaining, all the while filling sake cups and emptying ashtrays.

The time was approaching when she would have to decide whether to leave or stay on, to make her debut and commit herself for five years. Yet she dreaded the dance classes and the old ladies’ sharp tongues were hard to bear. She missed Jun and the easy-going life on the island. There, people had treated her kindly; here she felt under constant surveillance. Nothing she did was right.

“I’m going to leave,” said her friend Fumio. “I thought it was going to be more fun. I’ve had enough of these nagging old women.”

Toshimi nodded. “But if I leave I’ll feel as if I’ve failed. If I stay on I can try and make things better and then this first year will have been worthwhile too.”

She went to her room. She’d pinned up pictures around the mirror – Justin Bieber, the Japanese heart-throb Hiro, movie stars and famous geisha.

She sighed. If only she could meet someone like that. To go back to Jun and her island life would be to admit defeat.

Yet life here was just too hard. She was scolded all day, then spent her evenings pouring sake for ancient men. It was better to cut her losses and leave. She would tell Mother the next day.

That afternoon Mother summoned her. “You’re booked for a party tonight,” she told her, with an unexpected smile. “There are some very special guests. They’ve asked for our youngest, prettiest maiko. They’ll want to see you dance. The teacher tells me you’re doing very well.”

“The teacher says I’m doingwell?” repeated Toshimi, amazed.

“She’s hard on you because she thinks you have promise. Perhaps you can begin to understand howwe do things here. Nowgo and get ready.”

Suddenly the world looked brighter.

The party was in Arashiyama on the west side of Kyoto beside the river, with long tables spread outside and benches covered in red felt to sit on. Toshimi had never been anywhere so beautiful. Instead of old men, these guests were young. There were singers, actors and a couple of handsome young men Toshimi had seen on television.

As always, one geisha or maiko attended to each guest and circulated unobtrusively around. Toshimi arrived at the side of a young man she hadn’t paid much attention to. He wasn’t an actor or a singer, though he must be wealthy to be at such a party. He turned and looked at her and his eyes widened.

“What a beauty,” he said, smiling as he ran his eyes across her face. “I’m Kenkichi. The geisha call me Ken.”

Now that Toshimi had decided to leave, she felt free. She didn’t have to please the vinegar-tongued old ladies any more. She could relax.

Ken asked about her classes and studies and hobbies. He knew Shodo Island, he’d been there fishing. It was beautiful, he said.

Toshimi was flattered by his interest. She felt Kazumi’s eyes fixed malevolently on her but she paid no attention.

Ken wasn’t particularly handsome or witty. Yet he gazed at her as if she was the most fascinating creature he’d ever met. She knew she should move on to the next guest, but she didn’t want to. Something strange was happening, something she’d never experienced. She seemed to have lost control of her will. She felt as if they were in a cocoon.

When Kazumi came over to take her place, Ken said abruptly, “I’m talking to Toshimi right now.” He turned back to her. “Have you been to Tokyo?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

A country girl like her? She’d never been there in her life. She shook her head. “Would you like to?” She smiled, her heart racing. So this was how life as a geisha could be. To go to Tokyo – with Ken. She couldn’t think of anything more thrilling.

“Don’t worry, I’ll arrange it through the geisha union,” he added. “I’ll do it all properly. And you’ll be well paid.”

Jun called that night. “The year is nearly over,” he said, his voice full of excitement. “I can’t wait for you to come home. I’ve missed you so much. I want to make a life with you. We can do so much together.”

She listened, her heart sinking. She took a breath.

“I’m sorry, Jun,” she said. “My training’s only just beginning. There’s so much to learn. I’ve decided… I won’t be coming back, not for a while. I’m going to stay for another five years.” There was a long silence. “Five years is a long time. You and I will both change a great deal. You’ll be an adult by the time you finish.” He swallowed, took a breath. “But you’re right, quite right. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll learn a lot.” He paused. “I’ll wait for you,” he added. But there was uncertainty in his voice.

Hearing his thoughtful, warm words reminded her of his strength, of how she’d always relied on him, taken for granted he’d be there. She felt a pang. He wouldn’t wait. But it was too late.

Then thoughts of the young man she had just met swept over her – his spellbinding conversation, his promises, his dark eyes and full mouth. Why should she care whether Jun waited or not? She didn’t intend to wait herself. She shaped the name with her lips: Ken.

Her heartwas RACING. So thiswas how LIFE as a geisha COULD BE