Feeling bad about rejecting her, Milton had taken his copy of the Big Book from his bag and sat for a while on the veranda reading it. He had flipped through to the fifth chapter, and, in particular, the discussion of the considerations that an alcoholic should make before starting a new relationship. He had to ask himself one simple question: Was it selfish? He thought back to his relationship with Victoria, a lifetime ago in London, and how perfunctory and egocentric that had been. He applied the same test to anything that might happen with Sakura. She was vulnerable, lonely and afraid. Sleeping with her wouldn’t help with any of those problems; it would create new ones.

He had been right to say no.

The warm water caressed his body. The run had been helpful, just as he had expected it would be. It had given him a sense of clarity that had been hidden in a fog of indecision and confusion before.

He knew what he was going to do.

He would offer to go to Tokyo with Sakura. He would find a solution to her problems there.

44

Sakura heard a gentle knocking and opened her eyes. There was a moment of disorientation as she looked around the room and realised that she had no idea where she was. The bewilderment passed, replaced by a sense of dread as the reality of her situation reasserted itself: Takashi’s drugs were gone and she had no way of getting them back. Katsuro would have gone to find her at the hotel and discovered that she was not there. It was disaster upon disaster.

She slumped back on the mattress and put her hands to her face.

The knocking returned, a little more insistently. She remembered where she was now—Smith had brought her to a hotel where he had a villa—and she guessed that a maid must be outside.

“Hello?” she called out.

There was no answer.

She swung her legs out of bed and stood. She still felt weak, but the lassitude of yesterday was gone. The room service that Smith had ordered and then hours of sleep had worked wonders.

She went into the living room. The sofa bed had been made, but it was empty. She saw a torn-out page of paper with the hotel insignia left on the table.

Gone for a run. Back soon.

The knocking came again. “Hello? Sakura?”

Sakura went to the door. There was no peephole, so she had no idea who it was. “Hello? Who is it?”

“It’s Victoria. John’s friend. We met last night.”