Short Novel : Japanese expat children in 70s - 80s (5): A Japanese school on the seaside (Part 1)

1978 – The Japanese Boarding School by the Sea

"A Japanese school."

I'd never heard the term before.

It was only when Father was told he was being transferred to England for three years that it entered my life.

In 1977, I was in my first year of high school, attending one of the city's top academic schools.

If I worked hard enough, I believed I could sit the entrance exams for the university I wanted.

Then came the news of Father’s transfer.

The following year, in early summer 1978, my parents took me to England with my younger brother, who had only just started junior high school.

Father had only one plan.

He was determined to put both of us into British schools.

I wanted nothing of the sort.

I wanted to go to a Japanese high school.

Even so, as soon as we arrived in England, Father dragged my brother and me from one school interview to another.

Everywhere we went, the answer was the same.

“You're already seventeen, and you don't speak English. I'm afraid you'd find it very difficult to keep up with the lessons. Besides, the course lasts four years. There simply isn't enough time for you to complete it in three.”

That was the explanation every school gave us.

After more arguments with Father than I cared to remember, he finally gave in.

He agreed to let me apply to a Japanese boarding school in England instead.

My little brother wasn't so fortunate.

He was placed two years below his proper year group and more or less thrown into a local school. He had to begin in a class intended for ten-year-olds.

"Passing the Eleven Plus will eventually be a condition of his continuing here," the headmaster explained. "But without any English at all, he won't be able to sit the examination for quite some time."

Father simply nodded.

"If Takahiko can learn enough English to interpret for his mother, that'll be good enough."

He was only twelve.

He'd only just begun junior high school in Japan and started learning ABC.

Father put my name on the waiting list for the Japanese boarding school.

The reason I couldn't enrol immediately wasn't a simple one.

The child of Father's predecessor had remained at the school even after his father's posting had ended.

The company was still paying donations to the school on that child's behalf.

If they were to support two students at the same Japanese school at the same time, Father would have to negotiate with the company first.

Had that family already returned to Japan, a place might have become available much sooner.

Three months passed.

Then, in September 1978, a vacancy unexpectedly opened up.

At last, I was going to the Japanese school.

The Japanese school's academic calendar followed the Japanese system, so I entered at the beginning of the second term of my second year of high school.

I was finally allowed to transfer to a Japanese boarding school about an hour's train journey north-east of London.

Everything happened in a rush.

I hurriedly got my school uniform, school bag and shoes, then boarded the train on my own.

My destination was a Japanese boarding school in a run-down village beside the sea.

The smell of salt filled the air.

The distant roar of the waves carried across the beach.

The boarding school itself stood in a large grey stone building.

Old.

Heavy.

For a moment, I honestly wondered if I'd arrived at a haunted house.

A British teacher greeted me briefly at the entrance before leading me inside.

"Miss Nakata?"

"Yes."

“Have you ever lived in a boarding school before? ”

"No."

“I see.” He paused for a moment. 

“The girls in your room have all come here straight from Japan. 

Another brief pause. 

"Try to get along with them."

I blinked.

"But... I've come from Japan too."

“I mean, they came here directly from Japan.”

He handed me my textbooks before leading me to my room.

The second-years shared four to a room.

The room was empty.

He gave me a fairly large storage box for my belongings.

"Keep your personal things locked away whenever you can," he said. 

"You never know what might happen. And be especially careful with money and anything valuable. Any questions?"

I couldn't think of a single one.

As far as valuables went, the only thing I owned was the cash card my father had opened a bank account for.

Seeing that I had nothing to ask, the teacher gave me an odd little smile before turning and making his way back to the staff room.

I unpacked my belongings into the storage box.

Just then, the bell rang.

Five o'clock.

The last lesson of the day had probably just finished.

Voices echoed along the corridor as students began drifting back to their rooms.

Then it happened.

Three girls walked into my room.

"Oh, honestly, what was that about?" one groaned. "Who gives homework on a Friday?"

"I'm not doing it," another replied. "What a joke."

"Seriously. Friday homework? Our teachers must be out of their minds."

They dropped onto the lower bunk and took out cigarettes.

One of them flicked a lighter and the three began smoking as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

I stepped forward, intending to introduce myself.

All three turned and glared at me.

"What do you want?"

"I... I'm the new student. I arrived today."

"So you're the new girl."

One of them looked me up and down.

"Were you kicked out of Japan too?"

"No... not exactly."

"So what then? Daddy got transferred?"

"...Yes."

They exchanged looks before one of them gave a contemptuous little laugh.

"So you're one of the locals."

Another pulled a mocking face.

"Bet you can run home to Mummy whenever you feel like it."

"If your family's living in England, what's the point of you being here? This place is for people like us—people who came over from Japan. Why don't you clear off?"

"The teacher told me this was my room..."

"Oh, brilliant," one sighed dramatically. "We've ended up sharing with one of those."

She exhaled a stream of smoke towards the ceiling.

"Fancy some grass?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You smoke, don't you?"

"No... I don't smoke."

"What about grass?"

"What's... grass?"

The moment I asked, all three threw their heads back in disbelief.

"You don't even know what grass is?"

"Honestly, you're hopeless."

"She's only just arrived from Japan," another sneered. "Of course she hasn't a clue."

"Well, we smoke it, so don't start complaining, local girl."

With that, one of them produced a hand-rolled cigarette unlike the others and lit it.

The smell was different.

Sweeter.

Heavier.

It slowly filled the room.

I stood frozen, unable to make sense of what I was seeing.

Could it be...?

That sweet, distinctive smell...

The haze spreading across the room...

Out here?

In the middle of nowhere?

Where on earth had they got something like that?

More importantly...

Who were these girls?

I wanted to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

Fear rooted me to the spot.

I couldn't move.

The following morning, breakfast was served buffet-style in the dining hall.

There were eggs, bacon, toast, pots of tea and jugs of orange juice laid out on long tables.

I carried my tray to a seat by the window and had only just sat down when the girl opposite looked up.

"You're the new girl, aren't you?"

"That's right."

"I only arrived last term myself."

"You did? Were you on the waiting list too?"

She nodded.

"For ages. Oh—they've got fried eggs today. I wonder if they've got scrambled as well."

"They have. It's in the tray just after the fried eggs."

"Oh! Hang on."

She hurried off and came back triumphantly with a generous helping of scrambled eggs.

"So," I asked, “How long did you have to wait to get in here?” I asked.

“About two months. They put my name on the waiting list as soon as my father's transfer was decided.”

“So your parents are in England too?”

“No, they're in Chile now. Before that, we were in Argentina.”

“Chile? That's in South America, isn't it? Isn't there a Japanese school there?”

“No. There's a supplementary Japanese school where children from local schools can study Japanese at weekends, but that's all.”

“I see...”

“I'd been in Spanish-speaking countries for most of my childhood, but I was still going to have to return to Japan eventually. So, I wanted somewhere I could continue my education in Japanese.”

"I see...That must have been difficult."

She gave a little shrug.

"Japan, South America, Japan again... I never really stayed in one place for long. There aren't many Japanese schools overseas, you know. We applied to boarding schools in France and Germany as well, but nothing worked out. I'm just glad I managed to get into this one."

She took a happy mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"South America..."

I smiled awkwardly.

"I don't know anything about it."

She laughed.

"Most people don't unless they've lived there."

Maiko had spent five years at a time between Japan and various Spanish-speaking countries—from nursery school right through secondary school.

She loved studying.

For the first time since arriving, I had met someone in front of whom I didn't need to hide that I loved it too.

That evening, after tidying my desk, I went to Room 302 to see Maiko.

She was alone.

"Yukie! Come in. The others are all out."

I told her my roommates had dressed up and disappeared somewhere.

She looked slightly puzzled.

"It's Friday. There's a student disco in town every week. The girls in my room went there too."

“Were you studying just now?”

She nodded.

"I've heard Japanese maths is really demanding. I didn't want to fall behind."

"I know what you mean. I've got three months to catch up. Japanese, science... history... everything."

She looked at me with interest.

“Are you hoping to go to university?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“Me too. Somewhere I can study mathematics.”

“You're a science person, then! I'm interested in literature, so I'd like to go somewhere that's strong in that field.”

"What about the entrance exams?" she asked. 

"Where will you be going back to?"

"Tokyo. Well... western Tokyo. Not the city centre."

She blinked.

"So am I!"

"Really?"

"My family's in Sangenjaya."

"My home's in Kokubunji."

Kokubunji.

The moment I said the name aloud, something inside me snapped.

Faces came flooding back.

Friends I'd known since primary school.

The classmates I'd laughed with at the school festival and sports day.

The friends I'd studied alongside for the high school entrance exams.

The school I'd worked so hard to get into—

—and had barely begun attending before leaving it all behind.

I'd left every one of them.

And somehow, I'd ended up here...

In a lonely village on the English coast.

Before I realised it, tears were spilling down my face.

No matter how hard I tried, they wouldn't stop.

Maiko stared at me.

"Yukie! What's wrong?"

I wiped at my eyes.

"I'm sorry... Saying 'Kokubunji' just made me terribly homesick."

Without a word, she handed me a tissue and sat quietly beside me.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No..."

I managed a weak smile.

"I think it's just one of those moments."

She stood up and walked over to her desk.

Pinned above it was a photograph.

She took it down and handed it to me.

It showed a group of girls from every imaginable nationality.

Most were wearing elegant cocktail dresses.

In the centre stood a woman in a deep crimson dress, a black-and-red shawl draped over her shoulders. Maiko was standing beside her in a yukata.

“In Argentina, I went to a local school.” she began quietly.

“At the Christmas party, they said we could wear traditional dress from our own countries if we wanted to. It wasn't compulsory, though. Look at the girls sitting in the bottom row. They're from Cuba, Mexico and Paraguay, but none of them wore traditional dress. They just came in their ordinary clothes.”

"You chose the yukata." I smiled. "Weren't you freezing?"

She laughed.

"Argentina's in the Southern Hemisphere. It was the middle of summer. I even had a hadajuban underneath. If anything, I was too warm."

"Of course. A hot Christmas."

She nodded.

“But, you know, if everyone was allowed to wear traditional dress, I thought I'd show them something Japanese. So just before the party, one of the classrooms became our changing room. We all got ready together."

The girl in the photograph seemed to glow.

The soft hydrangea pattern on her yukata stood out beautifully.

Its gentle shades held their own even beside the glittering cocktail dresses.

Maiko looked at me and smiled.

“You left good friends behind in Japan too, didn't you? Come on, let's work hard! When we see them again, we can hold our heads high.”