The New Samurai Page 8

  Sam would have preferred a quiet drink at his local but he couldn’t deny his friends the chance to give him a good send off. And it was easier for everyone to meet in central London when people were travelling from across the Capital.

  A feeling of incredible lightness came over Sam as he stood at the tube station with Keith. It was liberating to feel so free and without possessions, without responsibility – at least until he started his new job. He’d bought a travel guide to Japan and was reading it cover to cover, saturating himself with facts about Japan and a few basic words and phrases: the important ones like ‘please’ (onegaishimasu or kudasai – why were there two ways of saying it?) and ‘thank you’ (arigato), ‘hello’ (konnichiwa) and ‘goodbye’ (sayonara or shitsureishimasu – how did anyone pronounce that?). One of the conditions of his employment was that he would be required to learn the language.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Keith elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What?”

  Keith nudged him again and winked. “Those birds over there – they’re looking at us. Could be their lucky night.”

  Reluctantly, Sam looked in the direction that Keith pointed.

  Two twenty-somethings, spray-tanned to the colour of teak and wearing matching cowboy hats, were looking their way, clearly appreciating the view that Sam offered.

  He ducked his head, embarrassed. He knew that look: it reminded him of Elle.

  “Come on,” said Keith, trying to smooth down his wiry hair, “let’s go and talk to them.”

  “Forget it,” said Sam, but Keith was already halfway down the platform. Reluctantly Sam followed.

  “Hello, ladies! Where are you from?”

  “Romford,” said the taller one.

  “Marvellous!” grinned Keith. “I love girls from Essex.”

  “Who’s your friend?” said the dark-haired one.

  “I’m Keith and this is Sam. He’s a bit shy,” said Keith, winking.

  Sam felt like punching him but instead managed a weak smile. The girls’ eyes lit up like Blackpool.

  “What are you drinking?” said Keith, to the women.

  “Mojitos!” they replied in unison.

  “Pity,” said Keith, “we’ve only got lager.”

  Sam was saved from having to speak by the arrival of the tube train. As the crowds pushed on board, the two girls were separated from them and when he and Keith disembarked at Leicester Square they were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. Well, Sam was thankful: Keith woeful with disappointment.

  “They liked me, I know they did,” he muttered to himself.

  The pub was large and noisy, the kind of place that Sam normally avoided. But not tonight. Several teachers from his old school were there, irritated beyond belief that he’d escaped south east London and was about to jet off to exotic horizons.

  Sam didn’t quite see it like that: he’d enjoyed teaching at Kidbrooke, even if it had been something of a baptism of fire for the first few months. He was relieved to hear that Ayesha was back in school and still on the rugby team, although giving Tony a really hard time.

  As the alcohol started to flow, surrounded by friends and laughter, the feeling of well-being grew, cocooning him in a warm bubble.

  “Come on,” said Julie, grabbing his arm. “Let’s dance.”

  She pulled him onto the dance floor and he went, not unwillingly.

  After a couple of songs Julie staggered off to find the ladies loos. Sam watched her with some concern: her balance didn’t look too good; he wondered if he should help her, at least some of the way.

  But then someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hello, Sam. Long time, no see.”

  For a half-second he froze, then managed to regain his composure.

  “Hello, Mim. How are you?”

  “Not bad. You look… good,” she said, her eyes flicking up and down swiftly. “I didn’t expect to bump into you of all people in a place like this. Was that your girlfriend?”

  She pointed with her glass in the direction that Julie had gone.

  Sam smiled slightly and shook his head.

  “She’s a friend.”

  It occurred to him, too late, that he should have lied.

  “Oh,” said Mim, appraisingly.

  “Well, good to see you, Mim.”

  He started to head back to his friends but she laid her hand on his arm. It felt like a claw.

  “Don’t go so soon,” she said, smiling up at him wolfishly. “It’s really nice to see you again. At least let me buy you a drink.”

  “That’s okay, thanks. I’ve got one waiting for me…”

  “Oh, come on, Sam. Let me buy you a drink: it’s the least I can do.”

  Sam looked at her questioningly.

  “The ad campaign,” she reminded him. “That was down to you.”

  He shook his head impatiently. “If you remember, it was Rebecca’s idea; I just thought of the poem.”

  He tried to leave again.

  “Don’t you want to hear about Elle?” she said.

  For a second Sam hesitated, then he folded his arms across his chest. “Not really,” he said, honestly.

  Mim looked pleased and a bit surprised.

  “Really?”

  “Truly.”

  “Then you wouldn’t mind if she was here tonight – with someone else?” asked Mim, a sly look in her eyes.

  Sam shrugged. “She’s a free agent: she can do what she likes.”

  “Does that apply to you, too?” said Mim.

  Sam sighed. He really didn’t want to get into this with Mim. Not here. Not tonight.

  “You know, Sam, I’ve always liked you,” she said, in a silky voice. “Maybe we can get to know each other a bit better now.”

  Sam was horrified. He’d rather walk over hot coals than be in the same room with a man-eater like Mim. Unleashed, she could have made Elle’s sister Juliet look like a nun.

  “Er, thanks, but I’m not going to be around,” he said, nimbly dodging the issue.

  “Why’s that?” said Mim, pouting.

  “I’ve got a new job: this is my leaving party,” said Sam, pointing towards his friends, who were eyeing Mim with dislike.

  “Yeah, so? Where is this new job?” said Mim, her eyes narrowing as if she suspected he was fobbing her off.

  “Er, Japan,” said Sam.

  She frowned. “What?”

  Sam shrugged, trying not to laugh at her tone of indignant disbelief.

  “I’ve got a job teaching English as a foreign language. I fly out on Monday. To Tokyo.”

  “Oh!”

  Mim was utterly wrong-footed, her expression chagrined. Then a steely glint lit up her dark eyes. “That’s in two days’ time: or rather, two nights’ time.”

  She laid a clear emphasis on the word ‘night’.

  Sam swallowed nervously. He hated being rude, but desperate situations called for desperate measures.

  Luckily Julie arrived back before he had to decide how to frame his reply. She assessed the situation in one shrewd glance, the panic on Sam’s face proof that Mim’s invitation wasn’t welcome.

  “Sorry, love,” she said, taking Sam’s arm and steering him back onto the dance floor. “He’s busy.”

  Mim looked surly and as if she would have said more, but Sam followed Julie’s lead with alacrity as she guided him away.

  “Thanks, Julie,” he said breathing a sigh of relief.

  She gazed at him in exasperation.

  “For goodness sake, Sam, you’ve got to be tougher with women like that!”

  Sam closed his eyes and ran a hand through his tousled hair. He had no idea how sexy he looked when he did that. Hopeless.

  “I just hate being rude,” he said, at last.

  Julie sighed and smiled.

  “You know what your problem is, Sam?”

  He glanced up, a half-smile flickering behind his eyes. “I’m guessing you’re about to tell me…”

  “You’re a characte
r actor trapped in the body of a leading man. Some women – and some men – will always fancy you because of the way you look.”

  He shrugged. “But they’re not the kind of women I’m interested in.”

  Julie nodded. “And there’s your problem, although I’m not sure where Elle fitted into that equation.”

  Sam grimaced. “She had her good points: she just didn’t let them out very often.”

  “If you say so,” said Julie, stubbornly unconvinced. “I hope you’re right, because she’s on her way over.”

  “Oh God!” croaked Sam.

  That was the last thing he needed.

  “You’re on your own with this one,” said Julie, shaking her head and walking away.

  Elle skilfully steered her way through the heaving crowd. Sam squared his shoulders and watched her approach. She seemed calm but he knew how quickly the icy veneer could shatter into scorching anger.

  “Sam.”

  “Elle.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “How are you?” he said, at last.

  She was undeniably beautiful; her long, honey-coloured hair glossy and perfectly coiffed; her make-up immaculate; the tailored bandage dress revealing rather than hiding her full figure.

  Her expression, however, was enigmatic.

  “I’m good, thanks,” she said, quietly. “How’s your friend Sylvie?”

  Sam was surprised by the question, his smile coming more naturally.

  “She’s great. Thanks for asking. They had a lovely little baby girl – Bella.”

  “Well… That’s nice.”

  “Yes.”

  Another pause.

  “I was surprised to see you in here,” said Elle, watching his eyes, as if trying to read what he was thinking rather than what he was saying.

  Sam shrugged. “It’s convenient – easier for most people to get to.”

  She nodded without speaking.

  “So,” he said, breaking the ensuing silence. “It’s good to see you. You look amazing – as always.”

  She smiled. “I know. But thanks. You, too.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Sam had turned to walk away when she called after him.

  “Sam… I… I just wanted to apologise. For the way I was last time we… last time I saw you. I was a bitch. No, don’t be nice to me. I was an utter cow. I’m actually ashamed to think of what I said in that restaurant, not that I’ll ever be able to show my face in there again…” she smiled wryly.

  Sam laughed. “Yeah, ‘memorable’ is probably the word you’re looking for.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, that about sums it up.”

  Then she smiled softly and took a step towards him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “We were good together, Sam. I’m sorry I made such a mess of things. I don’t suppose…”

  He shook his head before she could finish the sentence, gently pulling her hand away from his face.

  “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  She hesitated. “Are you seeing someone else?”

  He frowned, considering telling her to mind her own business, but it seemed a bit harsh seeing as she’d come over specifically to apologise.

  “No. There’s no-one.”

  “I thought maybe that girl,” said Elle, looking over towards Julie, who was glaring at them from across the room.

  “She’s a friend,” said Sam, patiently.

  “She looks… pretty pissed off,” said Elle, not unfairly.

  Sam smiled a lopsided grin. “I seem to have that effect on women.”

  Elle raised her eyebrows, a smile twitching at her lips, but then she changed the subject.

  “I just didn’t figure you for a place like this,” she said again, her expression curious.

  Sam repeated the conversation he’d had with Mim.

  “Wow!” said Elle, her blue eyes opening wide. “That’s… different.”

  And then a look he couldn’t identify flitted across her face. It was gone before he could guess what she was thinking.

  “Well, you’ll have an amazing time,” she said. “Good luck, break a leg and all that.”

  He grinned, then leant over to kiss her on the cheek.

  “Take care, Elle,” he whispered.

  “Oi!” came a slurred voice. “Keep your bloody hands off my bint!”

  Sam stared in disbelief as Roland Nash started weaving towards them.

  Elle flushed red with annoyance.

  “I said keep your hands off her!”

  Roland pushed his sweaty face into Sam’s.

  “Roly!” snapped Elle, with a look of irritation that Sam recognised, written all over her face.

  She tried to pull Roly away but he pushed her off, and she would have fallen if Sam hadn’t caught her.

  Sam felt his body stiffen in response to the anger that suddenly surged through him, his hands bunching into fists.

  Luckily the pub’s Saturday night security were on the ball and in force. Two burly men grabbed Roland by an arm each and escorted him outside to cool down.

  “God! I’m sorry about that,” said Elle, her tone agitated.

  “Roland Nash?” said Sam, in disbelief.

  She looked at him belligerently. “It’s none of your business.”

  “That’s true.” Sam shook his head slowly. He was turning away when he spoke on impulse. “Listen Elle,” he said, staring into her eyes, “just because you work with arse… idiots doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

  Elle was surprised. Sam had never spoken to her like that before. It was rather shocking. And exciting.

  She watched as he strode away. Again.

  “That was intriguing,” said Julie, as Sam sat down next to her.

  He shrugged, his good mood soured. “Just a guy who’d had too much to drink.”

  “Hmm,” said Julie.

  Sam shook his head: he wasn’t going to let a moron like that spoil his last evening with his friends.

  At one in the morning, Sam called it a night. Most of the others had already left; just Julie and Keith the last bastions of a memorable night.

  He hadn’t seen Elle or Roland, although he’d noticed that Mim was still there. Thankfully she hadn’t tried to speak to him again.

  The cold air made his head spin ever so slightly; it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

  “You take care, Sam,” said Julie, as she hugged him tightly. “I don’t know how you’re going to manage without us to take care of you: you’re a complete disaster when it comes to women.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he laughed. “But I think you’re right: I’ve decided I’m swearing off women. Completely.”

  She looked at him sceptically.

  “No, I mean it. I’m just going to work, eat, sleep and enjoy being somewhere new. That’s it.”

  “No women?” she said, arching one eyebrow.

  “No women,” he said, firmly.

  Julie held out her hand solemnly and Sam shook it. “It’s a bet.” She tried not to laugh.

  “Nutter,” said Keith.

  The check-in queue at Heathrow wound its way around three cordons, but it was short compared to the security line that bulged in the background. Angry passengers were looking at their watches, shoulders hunched with anxiety and irritation.

  Sam’s flight was still three hours away but by the look of things it would only just be enough time to get to the departure gate.

  “Don’t you just hate all this?” said the woman standing in front of him in the queue.

  “Yep,” agreed Sam. “I’d rather stick lit matches under my fingernails. Luckily I don’t have to do this very often.”

  The woman laughed and turned round to look at him properly.

  She was taller than average with short, dark hair and inquisitive eyes. She was dressed in a well-cut trouser suit with the physique of a runner. Frankly, she was gorgeous.

  Sam couldn’t help taking a longer look.

  “So wh
at’s taking you to Tokyo: business or pleasure?”

  She had a slight accent. Eastern European, perhaps: one who had spent a lot of time in Britain.

  “Both, I hope,” said Sam, honestly. “Actually I’m just about to start a job teaching out there.”

  “Teaching?” her voice registered surprise.

  He nodded.

  “So why did you pick Tokyo?” she asked, her expression one of interest. “Not that it isn’t a great city – it’s one of my favourite places in the world.”

  Sam smiled and shrugged. “It was just luck: I didn’t really care where I ended up.”

  “Oh,” she said, intrigued. “That sounds… dramatic.”

  Sam chuckled. “Not really. My job finished and I was at a loose end. It seemed like a good idea at the time; I’ll let you know in a month if it was.”

  “Mmm,” she said, her smile brightening. “I might want to hold you to that.”

  Sam’s face froze. What had been a pleasant chat with a gorgeous, intelligent woman had suddenly become something else entirely. He remembered his promise to Julie: no women. And here he was blowing it before he’d even left the country.

  He swallowed, wondering how to backtrack.

  The woman was still staring at him, as if expecting some reply. Sam forced a laugh.

  “I’ll probably have been fired by then. Who knows?”

  She smiled in a friendly way. “Well, you’d better get used to being stared at – especially if you travel any distance from Tokyo. You’re a gaijin – a foreigner. Plus you’re tall, so you’ll stand out anyway. And, if you don’t mind me saying so, that bronze-coloured hair you have… it’s a very unusual colour.”

  She laughed at his expression. “You’ll probably have small children following you in the street. Don’t worry – you’ll get used to it.”

  Despite his better judgement, Sam liked this woman. She seemed very straightforward.

  At that moment another woman joined her. Sam did a double-take; she was the spitting image of the woman he’d been talking to, but with longer hair and wearing jeans instead of a suit.

  The short-haired woman smiled, clearly used to that reaction.

  “No, you’re not seeing double: well, you are – this is my twin-sister Gretchen, and I’m Gerda.”

  Gretchen smiled at Sam with interest.