Alice-Miranda in Japan 9 by Jacqueline Harvey

meant. There were many grandfathers in the house and she hoped it wasn’t the one with the cane. She gathered her cleaning equipment and rushed to the kitchen. All the while, Kiko’s eyes scanned every surface and crevice looking for her locket. She wondered if Obaasan had hidden it in her bedroom. There was another room at the front of the house, off the kitchen, which she hadn’t been in either. It was on the corner near the alley and Tatsu was the only one she’d seen going in and out, but he always locked the door behind him.
    Obaasan passed her a tray.
    â€˜Which room?’ Kiko whispered.
    â€˜Upstairs, at the far end of the hall,’ Obaasan replied. ‘You look after him. He is special.’
    It was the man Kiko had met earlier. At least he was friendly enough.
    Kiko balanced the teapot and cup and walked up the timber staircase. She stepped carefully along the hall; the pot was so heavy her hands trembled. At the end of the passage, she placed the tray down and knocked on the door.
    â€˜Hello?’ she called, hoping to hear his voice on the other side.
    Kiko didn’t want to barge in but she didn’t want the tea to go cold either. There was a perfect temperature for serving and if she waited much longer it would be less than ideal.
    â€˜ Sumimasen , I have your tea,’ she said, pushing the door open.
    The man was still sitting in his chair facing towards the window, exactly where he had been earlier.
    Kiko picked up the tray, walked inside and set it down on a low table beside him.
    â€˜Would you like me to pour it?’ she asked quietly, keeping her head low.
    The man nodded. ‘Hai.’
    Kiko bowed. She held the teapot and rotated it three times. Then she poured the tea, filling the cup a third of the way, then two-thirds and then an inch below the top. She passed it to the man and bowed.
    â€˜What is your name?’ he asked.
    Kiko gulped. ‘Yoshi,’ she whispered.
    â€˜How old are you?’ the man asked. His hands trembled as he gripped the cup and liquid spilled over the sides and onto the small leather-bound book that was resting on his lap.
    â€˜Eleven,’ Kiko replied. ‘Would you like me to take that for you?’ She pointed at the book.
    He shook his head. ‘No. Leave it.’
    Kiko wondered what it was.
    â€˜You must not stay here,’ he said, ‘or you will die like everyone else.’
    Kiko shifted uncomfortably. ‘What do you mean, Ojiisan?’
    The old man slurped his tea and set the cup back down.
    â€˜Would you like some more?’ Kiko asked.
    â€˜No.’
    Kiko noticed that every now and then his whole body trembled. She wondered what was wrong with him.
    â€˜You must leave this place,’ the man said.
    â€˜But why do you stay?’ Kiko asked.
    â€˜I have no choice. Perhaps you do not have a choice either.’ He gripped the side of his chair and held tightly, as if trying to make the tremors stop.
    â€˜Boy, are you still up there?’ Obaasan screeched from the bottom of the stairs. ‘You get down here now.’
    Kiko gathered up the tray and walked to the door.
    The old man stared out the window. ‘Go!’ he said. ‘Or you will be in trouble with the boss lady.’
    He opened the leather-bound book on his lap. It was a photograph album. An exquisite young bride stared up at him.
    Kiko glanced at it but he clutched the album to his chest. ‘ Arigatou , Ojiisan,’ she whispered, then walked as quickly as she could from the room and down the hall. Obaasan was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
    â€˜What were you doing up there, boy? Making sushi? I have more jobs and you are lazy. Lazy!’
    Kiko followed Obaasan back to the kitchen. She was good at blocking out the noise. Obaasan was no match for her Aunt Hatsuko. Besides, Obaasan at least praised her occasionally, which was more than could be said for her aunt.
    Kiko was directed to stir a