‘You’re Tomura-kun, aren’t you?’

Someone actually was calling my name, right next to me. I turned around and saw a woman I’d never seen before. Short hair, long neck, a really gorgeous woman.

‘I knew it.’ The woman grinned. ‘My name’s Hamano. I’ve known Yanagi – Yanagi-kun – for a long time. He told me to wait here for you. You’re exactly how he described. I recognized you straight away.’

For a moment I wondered how he might have described me. But I was helpless in the glow of that broad smile. ‘Uh, nice to … meet you,’ I stammered.

‘Likewise.’

We bowed to each other. She’d called him simply ‘Yanagi’, in tones of such pride and conviction that his name sounded quite different on her lips. I had a feeling that my Mr Yanagi was poles apart from her Yanagi.

The door to the hall shut again. The next band must be starting their set.

‘Mr Yanagi’s drumming was really good, wasn’t it?’ I ventured.

‘It’s so precise, isn’t it,’ she said. ‘Like a metronome.’

I nodded. ‘Precise and powerful – he really throws himself into it.’

Miss Hamano gave a sweet smile and lit a cigarette. ‘Yanagi is fond of metronomes.’ She chuckled. ‘He might get upset if he finds out I told you.’ Elegantly, slowly, she exhaled her smoke. ‘I’ve known Yanagi since we were kids. We’ve been going out for nearly fifteen years. We know everything there is to know about each other.’

How wonderful that would be, I thought, to have a beautiful woman like this know everything about you, and to know everything about her in return. But I couldn’t think of anyone who was like that for me – beautiful or otherwise.

A silver ring glinted faintly on the third finger of her left hand, the one in which she held the cigarette. This must be the one Mr Yanagi had wrapped up with a ribbon and given to her.

‘Tomura-kun, please take good care of Yanagi for me, OK?’

‘To be honest, he’s the one who looks after me!’

Miss Hamano’s lovely lips straightened. ‘You might not know it to look at him, but he’s quite sensitive.’

‘Really?’

‘He used to hate public telephones.’

Had I heard her properly? The loud music had left my ears ringing. I looked at her so blankly that Miss Hamano laid her hand on my arm and explained further.

‘They make public payphones those garish colours, don’t they, so they stand out? He hated the greenish-yellow colour – said he found them quite hideous.’

I couldn’t catch everything she said and wasn’t completely sure what she was talking about. The word ‘hideous’ sort of hung there in the air. ‘What do you mean, he found public payphones hideous?’

Miss Hamano stubbed out her cigarette. Her nails were dark and glossy.