Emma was due to board the ship for Honolulu at ten o’clock. She rose early and organised the children and the rest of the packing before heading down to the dining room for breakfast. She was buttering toast when the head waiter came over, proffering a small silver tray.
‘A telegram, ma’am.’
She put down her knife, brushed some crumbs off her fingertips and took the small, thin envelope. It was addressed to Yamamoto-dori. She was grateful to Yu Yan – or possibly Ernest – for having it sent on.
She hesitated with the envelope in her hand, not sure whether to open it then and there in front of all the other diners, or retreat to her room. Her hands had a mind of their own, opening the flap and pulling out the small piece of folder paper. The message was brief. It was from her uncle in Mon
