Seller Of Dreams Continuing chapters of our serial

Toshimi has committed herself to five years as a geisha – and Ken, the rich young businessman, is more attentive than ever

Your job is to make men fall in love with you, not to fall in love yourself. That way disaster lies. The days flew by. Toshimi seemed to have acquired a special magic. Now all the elderly customers begged for her to sit next to them. Her tongue had been loosened, she could cast a spell over them.

When she pattered down the streets of the geisha district on her high clogs with tiny pigeon-toed steps, the stern old ladies smiled as she passed, as if she had the power to make them young again. Even the dance teacher was kind. Wherever she went she seemed to bring sunshine.

Ken came regularly to the district. The dry old men who ran the geisha union now understood that if anyone else wanted to book her, he had priority.

At first he came with colleagues, then on his own. He booked musicians, singers, dancers, geisha, admired them and tipped lavishly. He charmed everyone but he always made sure Toshimi was there to dance and pour his sake for him.

She knew he was there to see her. Every time she saw him he seemed more handsome, more devoted. She could hardly believe she could be so lucky.

One day, walking back from her music and dance classes, Toshimi passed a house with a white picket fence. No one had ever seen the woman who lived there. She didn’t work any more. She didn’t need to. Her danna – her lover – had bought the house and supported her. The geisha were all envious of her.

Perhaps, Toshimi thought, she too had found a danna. She was not so naïve as to think Ken would marry her. Geishas’ clients were almost always married.

A danna who loved her – not an old, ugly businessman but a young, charming one – that would be enough. The geisha life no longer seemed terrible at all.

Once Toshimi had told Mother she was going to stay on, the wheels were quickly set in motion. Her debut soon came round. It was a three-day affair, as solemn as a wedding.

The trial period was over. She was committing herself to the geisha life, at least for the next five years. To her, at sixteen, as far as she was concerned she was committing herself for the rest of her life to be a geisha.

The one thing that cast a shadow on her happiness was that bad-tempered Kazumi had been chosen to be her Older Sister and mentor. Yet there was nothing she could do about it.

On the morning of her debut, she watched in the mirror as Kazumi applied her make-up, watched the miraculous transformation from Chieko, the girl from the humble fishing village, who thought she’d loved the fisherman’s son Jun, into Toshimi, the maiko.

Toshimi. That was her now, in clogs and butterfly-bright kimonos, speaking with a geisha lilt, alluring and magical. Chieko was a creature of the past. She smiled. She’d made the right decision.

The preparations took hours. Toshimi’s face and chest and back had to be coated in thick white make-up, with a three-pronged instead of a twopronged serpent’s tongue at the nape of her neck, and her eyebrows and eyes painted in. Then dressers arrived to clothe her in layers of kimonos with a formal black kimono on top, winding the long stiff obi cummerbund around her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

Lastly Mother came to check that all was perfect. As always, that grand lady was perfectly groomed and impeccably dressed, in a midnight blue kimono, her

Ken ARRIVED laden down with presents – and a PROMISE

hair swept back into a glossy chignon. She added combs, silk flowers and dangling silver chains to Toshimi’s coiffure, then daubed a brilliant red crescent of safflower paste on her lower lip, the finishing touch.

Toshimi’s real parents had travelled up from the island for the ceremony. They knelt stiffly in the geisha house drawing room, looking awkward and out of place.

Her father was in a suit, smelling of mothballs. She’d only ever seen him wear it for weddings and funerals. Her mother, who usually ran around in slacks, was in a skirt and stockings.

Toshimi was taken aback to see tears in her mother’s eyes. She’d been so full of excitement, she’d been barely aware that she was saying goodbye to her old self – and her old life – forever.

“It’s the closest we’ll get to seeing you married,” her father said.

It did indeed feel like a wedding, except that there was no groom. Yet she had no regrets. This was the life for her.

There were ceremonial words to be recited, and then Toshimi and Kazumi knelt opposite each other and took a sip of sake each from three red lacquer dishes, small, middle-sized and large. With that the dressers escorted Toshimi out of the house and into the street where photographers jostled.

The coming-out ceremony of a new maiko was a huge event. Toshimi was a star now. Mother rushed out to adjust her obi as flashbulbs popped and TV cameras whirred. Photographers crowded behind her as she went from house to house, visiting every one in the district.

At each, the old ladies congratulated her and, in the traditional way, gave her an envelope of money and promised their patronage. It was a magical beginning to her wonderful new life as a seller of dreams.

She hardly noticed as her parents said goodbye and set off back for the island.

She waited breathlessly for evening. Ken arrived laden down with presents – hair ornaments, a handbag, a length of beautiful kimono silk and a bracelet inset with diamonds. Geisha wear no jewellery

– but when Toshimi was in Western dress she would be able to wear it.

He had arranged a party to celebrate her new status. Instead of serving sake for him, she was to be his guest. As they clinked glasses he smiled into her eyes.

“You remember I promised I’d take you to Tokyo? I’ve talked it through with your house mother and settled it with the geisha union. Everything’s arranged.”

Toshimi listened, her heart pounding with excitement. He’d booked her for three days, he told her. He would pay for everything, for her and for a chaperone. They would travel first class, as geisha always do, and stay in the best hotel.

She and the chaperone would have their own room. He was booking her for her company, no more. He would treat her with the greatest respect, he said. She trembled as he laid his hand on hers.

Before they left, Mother took her aside. She drew herself up very straight, looking at Toshimi sternly.

“You’re young still,” she said. “There is one thing you must never forget. Your job is to sell men a dream, a fantasy, an

She couldn’t BELIEVE shewas on herway to the great city of TOKYO

illusion of romance. Men spend time with us so they can forget the harshness of their everyday lives, their work, their worries, their families, and we create a bubble of romance and glamour for them.

“That’s all it is – a dream. We tell them we love them but they know we’re acting, we say the same to all the men. It’s a game, it’s not real. They know that too.

“Always remember that. Don’t get caught up in that fantasy world yourself. Never let yourself be swept off your feet. I know when you’re young it’s easy to forget, easy to believe the sweet words that come out of men’s mouths. We always give you young maiko the same warning. Your job is to make men fall in love with you, not to fall in love yourself. That way disaster lies. Remember that.” Toshimi looked up, pouting. “I’m not so naïve,” she burst out. “I know he’s married, I know I’m just a geisha. I’m not under any illusions.”

She wanted to add that she was an adult now. She might be only sixteen but she couldn’t wait to enjoy a few days of freedom away from Mother’s eagle eye.

“Kazumi will be your chaperone,” Mother added.

Toshimi grimaced. She knew she had to have a chaperone, and Kazumi was her Older Sister. But she was as sourfaced and sharp-tongued as ever, always watching for Toshimi to make a slip.

“Kazumi’s been with us a long time,” said Mother. “She’s been to Tokyo many times, she knows the geisha there and she’s used to men and their ways. She’ll make sure everything is all right.”

At least Kazumi was old, Toshimi reflected – in her mid-twenties, at least – and not attractive. She would not be a threat or a rival. Toshimi smiled and bowed and thanked Mother. She was very grateful that Kazumi was coming along, she said.

At Kyoto station they settled in to the first class carriage of the bullet train. Toshimi was in her most lavish regalia, a pale gold kimono embroidered with fans and flowers with long swinging sleeves, held in place with a heavy brocade obi. Kazumi was in the costume of an adult geisha, a dark-toned kimono and wig.

Toshimi had never been on the bullet train. She and her mother had travelled to Kyoto on a rickety old local train. The bullet train was so luxurious and smooth that she didn’t even notice when it started to move.

As they glided out of Kyoto, Ken pointed out the mountains, the rolling paddy fields, the buildings and cities flashing past. Toshimi gasped as they glimpsed the rocky coastline and the sea, blue and glistening. She’d forgotten how much she missed it.

Kazumi chattered blithely, fluttering her lashes at Ken, making small talk, telling jokes. She knew kabuki actors, she boasted. She could introduce them. She reminisced about a famous actor who, she swore, had been her lover.

Ken listened, responded politely, was suitably impressed. He was charm itself. He talked, laughed, told stories, behaved like a perfect gentleman. But Toshimi could see that he only had eyes for her.

She wanted to pinch herself. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her, a fisherman’s daughter from Shodo Island, that she really was on her way to the great city of Tokyo in the company of such a glamorous man.

She watched as he chatted, asking her and Kazumi about themselves, talking about his life, his travels, gazing at his eyes, his full mouth, the confident way he carried himself.

Then Mount Fuji came into view, perfectly symmetrical, rising out of the plain with cloud like a scarf at its summit. Toshimi gazed wide-eyed.

“Of course! You’ve never seen Fuji before, have you?” said Ken, smiling at her excitement.

They travelled through Tokyo in a taxi. Toshimi was dazzled by the neon, the gleaming skyscrapers, the shops and department stores, the well-dressed people thronging the streets.

She was thrilled when they arrived at the luxury hotel where they were to stay, with its huge lobby and glittering chandeliers.

Next day Ken took them shopping and bought her handbags and beautiful Western clothes. Everywhere they went crowds parted. People drew back to admire her stiff, oiled hairstyle and gorgeous kimonos, whispering and pointing. Ken straightened his shoulders, proud to be in the company of a maiko.

That evening he took them to the kabuki theatre. He’d booked a box. Toshimi felt as if she were in a fairytale. She had never been to the theatre. She could hardly breathe for excitement. Ken smiled, enjoying her delight.

Afterwards they went backstage. Kazumi did indeed know the actors. As Toshimi was beginning to learn, geisha and kabuki actors were part of the same

world, all actors with parts to play, an audience to entertain. She was beginning to see the advantage of having Kazumi there.

The following evening Kazumi announced that she wanted to go and visit her friends in the Shimbashi geisha district. Would Toshimi mind being left alone with Ken, just for the evening?

Toshimi shook her head, trying to conceal her joy. She felt a weight lifted from her as Kazumi disappeared.

That evening the two of them went out for dinner. Ken chose a romantic candlelit French restaurant. Toshimi wore one of her new Western outfits, a floaty silk dress, and the beautiful bracelet inset with diamonds. Instead of her heavy white make-up she put on just a dab of western make-up. Ken looked her over appreciatively. “Your real face is even more beautiful than your painted one,” he said. She blushed with pleasure. She was intoxicated with the grand French restaurant, all the new experiences she was having. She couldn’t help daydreaming about the life she would have once Ken was her danna and she was his official mistress. It would be like this all the time, she was sure of it.

As they ate the unfamiliar dishes she chattered gaily about the island and her life there. Tears came to her eyes as she told him about Taro, her big foolish dog, and how much she missed him.

He feasted his eyes on her face. Encouraged, she told him about how she’d become a maiko, about how hard and lonely the life could be, the sharptongued old ladies, how she had to practise and practise dancing until she was exhausted.

Yet it was worth it, she said. She’d met so many powerful and brilliant men. She was used to being with them, hearing their conversations, hearing how the geisha intervened and offered opinions. She’d learned so much. She knew she’d grown more sophisticated since she’d been a maiko. She carried herself with more confidence.

He seemed fascinated by everything she said. He took her hand. His touch sent a thrill of excitement through her.

“You’re so lovely,” he said. “So sweet and innocent and lovely. That peachy skin, those wide eyes, that rosebud mouth. How could anyone resist you?”

After dinner they strolled through the city, under the brilliant neon that lit up the Ginza. He told her about himself – where he had grown up, where he had gone to school, about his travels. He often went to New York, he said.

“I’ll take you,” he said. “Would you like that? We’ll go together.”

She nodded wordlessly, enthralled at the thought of visiting New York.

Back at the hotel, they sat in the bar. Her head was spinning from the wine and she stumbled, giggling, as they went up to their rooms.

“Let me help you,” he said, putting his arm round her. She barely noticed that he led her not to the room she shared with Kazumi, but his – and when she did realise she didn’t care.

He pulled her down beside him on the bed. She tingled at the closeness of him. She hardly dared breathe.

“I wish I was free and could marry you,” he said. “I would leave my wife if I could but my father would disown me. I can’t disappoint him like that.”

“Of course not,” Toshimi said. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“I don’t love her at all.” He blurted out the words. “I’m not happy in my marriage. We spend days hardly speaking.”

Toshimi was overwhelmed with awe that he felt free to confide in her.

“I can talk about everything with you,” he added. “I’m so happy to have met you.” He was pressing closer and closer. “It doesn’t matter that we can’t marry,” he murmured. “We’ll live together. I’ll buy you a house. I’ll spend all the time I can there. You won’t need to work. No sharp-tongued old ladies to worry about.”

He started to nuzzle her neck.

Her heart was pounding. In some distant part of her mind she wondered what the proper response was. Should she push him away or let him continue?

Mother’s words came back to her. Wasn’t she meant to be selling romance to him? But what did that mean? He was the customer, he’d paid for her company. Shouldn’t she do whatever he wanted?

Besides, he was an adult. He knew what was right. He wouldn’t do her any harm. She trusted him completely.

She was almost swooning with excitement. She smelled his scent, felt his warm body, his closeness.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I’m completely in love with you. I’ve never felt anything like this before.” “You’ll be my danna?” she whispered. He pressed his mouth to hers. She tried half-heartedly to push him away. For a moment he drew back.

“We’ll be together forever. Tonight we’ll pledge our troth. I’ll make you mine.” He laid his hand on her thigh, began to stroke higher and higher. “Tonight will be a binding contract.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her in earnest. She closed her eyes, oblivious to the world, as delicious feelings she’d never known it was possible to have overwhelmed her.

They made love again and again. They made love all night.

Next morning she awoke, quivering as she remembered the night before. She lay in a haze of happiness, seeing her future unroll before her eyes – a future as his mistress, a life filled with passion and luxury.

“I don’t LOVE HER at all,” he blurted. I’m not happy inmy MARRIAGE”