The Japanese Screen

‘You see,’ he said, unlocking the door with his key. ‘Is this not a most attractive vehicle I have chosen for us?’

Susannah looked into his face, so disturbingly close to her own. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Get in and you will find out,’ he advised quietly.

She hesitated for a moment and then with a resigned shrug she allowed him to assist her into the car and close the door behind her. He walked round the bonnet and slid in beside her, giving her a slight smile as he did so, and she thought with a sense of self-betrayal that for once she was allowing a man to call the tune.

Fernando said nothing as he threaded his way expertly through the busy traffic and on to the Hammersmith flyover. She had expected him to be uncertain of his way about London, but it seemed obvious that he was used to driving through its maze of one-way streets and box junctions. Susannah sat in the comfortable leather seat, separated from him by the console fixture of the gear lever, and wondered exactly where they were going.

As the traffic thinned, he had more time to look about him, and settling himself more comfortably in his seat, he said: ‘How old are you, Miss King?’

Susannah was taken aback. ‘That’s a very pointed question, isn’t it?’

‘Hmm. I suppose it is. Are you going to tell me?’ He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes, and she found herself becoming warm under his gaze.

‘As a matter of fact I’m twenty-four,’ she declared shortly. ‘How old are you?’

He chuckled. ‘Much older than that, Miss King.’

‘That’s not an answer,’ she exclaimed indignantly.

‘How old do you think I am?’

She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Thirty-five, thirty-six?’

‘You’re too kind.’ His expression was wry. ‘I am forty, Miss King. Almost old enough to be your father, si?’

She bent her head. ‘Why did you want to know how old I was?’ He shrugged, resting his arm on the ledge of his window. ‘I had the distinct suspicion that you were much younger than twenty-four. Were it not for that ridiculous hairstyle, I would say you were twenty at most.’

‘Ridiculous hairstyle!’ she echoed, putting a hand to her head. ‘What’s ridiculous about it?’

He cast her a sardonic glance. ‘You look like a small girl trying to look like an adult. I liked it better in the elastic bands, untidy though it was.’

Susannah caught her breath. ‘I don’t think you should make personal comments about my appearance, señor.’

‘No. I agree, I should not. But you did ask me, and I was merely being truthful.’ He slowed behind a lumbering wagon. ‘And as I am so much older than you are, perhaps it would not be too presumptuous of me to suggest that I might call you Susannah, si?’

She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. ‘Do I have any choice?’

‘You make me sound very rude. I’m sorry.’

She sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to do so. Of course you may call me Susannah if you wish.’

His lean brown fingers slid round the wheel. ‘So. As that is disposed of, I suggest we talk about something else. For example – do you like shellfish?’

‘Shellfish, señor?’ She sounded as perplexed as she felt.

‘Si. Is that not how you say it – lobster, crab, that kind of thing?’

‘Oh, I see. Shellfish.’ She nodded apologetically. ‘Yes, I like it.’

‘That is good. The place where we are to dine serves the most delicious lobster you have ever tasted. It is cooked in a sauce of cream and white wine, and melts in the mouth. You must try it.’

Susannah managed a smile, but in truth she was wondering whether she would be able to eat anything at all. His presence unnerved her. She felt the restraint between them like a tangible thing. And yet there was no reason for it.

To her surprise, their destination was a rather exclusive golf club, overlooking the Thames near Kingston. Although on this Wednesday evening there appeared to be no rule about formality, many of the diners were wearing dinner jackets, or lounge suits with bow ties, and as their female counterparts all looked elegant and soignée to Susannah’s uneasy eyes, she felt terribly self-conscious in her old velvet pants and cream sweater.

It was better once they were seated at table and Fernando was studying the wine list. What small interest their arrival had aroused had mostly been concentrated on him, but now that he was patently ignoring it the conversation around them resumed its normal level.

The meal was as delicious as he had said it would be, and under his surveillance she agreed to try the lobster. A certain amount of good wine loosened her reserve and while they ate she talked quite happily about her work, relating one or two amusing anecdotes she had collected over the years. He was a good listener. He lay back in his seat watching her closely, and it was not until they reached the coffee stage that she realized she still knew absolutely nothing about him, other than that he was a friend of the Castanas. He wore three rings, two very broad silver ones and a meshed gold one, but none of them occupied the third finger of his left hand. Even so, he could be married for all she knew. And she had no idea how to bring the conversation round to his personal affairs.

They left the restaurant at about ten o’clock and walked back to the gold Granada. It was parked beneath a willow tree that dipped its branches towards the river. It was cooler now than it had been when they left London a couple of hours ago, and Susannah shivered.

‘You are cold,’ he said at once, unlocking her door. ‘Do get in. I should not like you to catch a chill, Susannah.’

She climbed inside obediently and watched him through the rear-view mirror as he walked round the back of the car to reach his door. He levered himself in beside her, checked that she was comfortable, and then reversed smoothly out of the parking area.

It seemed no time at all before they were running through the suburbs, dark now with street lamps casting pools of light on the pavements. He drove through the mass of side streets to reach Lorrimer Terrace, and brought the big car to a halt only a few feet from the door of the Castana house.

Susannah glanced doubtfully up at the windows, wondering whether their return had been observed. It was unlikely. Lucie Castana slept at the back of the building and the sound of a car drawing up in the street outside was a common enough occurrence for it not to attract any especial interest.

She suddenly realized that she was making no attempt to get out of the car and turning to Fernando Cuevas, she said: ‘Thank you very much, señor. I have enjoyed myself.’

The dark Spaniard gave her a slight smile, his fingers tapping somewhat impatiently on the wheel. ‘That is good,’ he replied. ‘So have I. Good night, Susannah.’

‘Good night, señor.’

With a vague feeling of reluctance, she climbed out of the car and he leant across to close her door behind her, giving her a casual salute before driving away. She entered the house with a distinctly hollow emptiness inside that owed nothing to her physical condition. She didn’t know what she had expected. She should have felt relieved that he had made no attempt to ask to see her again. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt emotionally drained, deflated, and totally out of humour with herself for feeling so.

The following day life resumed its normal pattern. Eduardo had lessons in the morning and in the afternoon they walked to the common so that he could run off some of the energy he had in such abundance. Susannah usually enjoyed these outings. She liked running about after the ball and seeing Eduardo’s pale face flushed with healthy colour as he forgot his anxieties in the pure delight of physical exertion.

But today, Susannah found it hard to relax. She was constantly searching for a gold Granada among the cars that they passed and every dark man they encountered aroused a momentary flutter of excitement which was just as quickly doused. She didn’t know why she should imagine that Fernando Cuevas might want to see her again. His parting of the night before had been humiliatingly brief. And yet she couldn’t deny the surge of anticipation she was feeling.

However, neither a gold Granada nor any dark Spaniard appeared and she returned to the house for afternoon tea somewhat dejectedly. Señor Castana had returned in their absence and when Eduardo saw his father waiting for him in the hall he gave an excited squeal and ran towards him eagerly. Susannah greeted her employer politely and then left the family together, asking the young maid to bring her tea to her sitting-room.

The next morning Señor Castana sent for Susannah while she was giving Eduardo his lessons. Leaving the boy writing out an English exercise in his laborious fashion she went downstairs to the study wondering whether Señora Castana had found some cause for complaint in spite of what she had said.

Carlos Castana was a stocky man of average height, with a thin moustache. He was handsome in a swarthy, Latin sort of way, but Susannah liked him because he had such a pleasant personality. He always tried to be fair in his dealings with the staff, and they all thought he put up with his wife’s moods and tempers very patiently. Now he admitted Susannah to his study, rather thoughtfully she thought, and indicated that she should take a seat. Susannah sat, waiting apprehensively for him to begin. Of course, he might just want a report on Eduardo’s progress, but in the past he had always come to the schoolroom for that.

He walked behind his desk and sat down facing her. ‘First of all, Miss King, I want to say how pleased we are with Eduardo’s development.’

Susannah folded her hands in her lap. ‘Thank you, señor.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I am thanking you, Miss King. You have settled down with us very well – better than I had dared to hope.’ He paused. ‘You may know that in the past my wife has had some difficulties in keeping staff, but I’m glad to say that you appear to have fitted in with us excellently.’

‘Thank you, señor.’

Susannah was intrigued. She wondered what all this was leading up to. If Señor Castana hadn’t brought her here to discipline her, what did he want?

He went on, choosing his words carefully. ‘As you are aware, I have been abroad for several days. I went to the continent on business. There was a directors’ meeting. My company is planning to expand.’

Susannah nodded. She didn’t quite know why he was telling her this. The affairs of his company were nothing to do with her, unless it was a roundabout way of telling her that he intended giving her a rise.

He reached for a cigar from the box on his desk, and lit it before going on. Then, when it was glowing warmly, giving off an aroma of Havana tobacco, he said: ‘The company is planning to open a branch in New York, Miss King. I have been invited to run that branch.’

Now she understood. He was explaining the circumstances to her because if he took this appointment, if he moved to New York, he would expect his family to move too, and that included Susannah herself as Eduardo’s governess.

‘I see,’ she said inadequately.

‘You understand why I am telling you this, do you not, Miss King? Naturally I shall be accepting this appointment and moving to New York. I intend to take a house there as I have done here for the past eighteen months. I want you to come with us.’

Susannah nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘You’ll come?’ He rose to his feet, resting his palms on the desk and leaning towards her.

‘I don’t know, señor. I – I should have to think about it.’

Señor Castana nodded. ‘I understand that. I have told you at once because I remember at the time you came for an interview you mentioned that you were leaving your previous post because you did not wish to move to the United States. May I hope that you have changed your ideas since then?’

Susannah shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, señor. I – if it had been France – or Spain!’ She hesitated. ‘New York is such a long way away.’

‘But you have no family in England, Miss King. You told me so yourself.’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But my friends are here.’

‘You will make new friends!’ He spread a hand in a very continental gesture. ‘You are a very attractive young woman, Miss King. Forgive me, but one cannot help but notice such things. I have seen the way men look at you … I do not think you would find it too difficult to find companionship.’

Susannah’s cheeks were flushed. ‘Well – thank you, señor. But really, I – I must have time to think it over.’

‘Of course, of course. I will not rush you. I do not suppose we will be leaving England for several months yet. But I would hope you would decide soon. I want an English governess for Eduardo, and if you are not coming with us …’

‘I quite understand, señor.’ Susannah rose now. ‘And – and thank you for your confidence in me.’

Señor Castana made some deprecatory comment before showing her out, but after the study door was closed, Susannah stood for several minutes in the hall thinking over what had been said before returning to the schoolroom. She was still standing there when the maid came down the stairs.

‘Oh, there you are, Miss King,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve been up to the schoolroom looking for you. There’s a letter been delivered for you.’

‘A letter? For me?’ Susannah forced herself to remain calm. ‘Where – where is it?’

‘It’s here, miss.’ The maid drew an envelope out of the pocket of her apron. ‘Delivered by hand, it was. Do you know who it’s from?’

Susannah took the envelope from the maid’s inquisitive hands, turning it over with trembling fingers. It was parchment-stiff, the quality evident, and there was a monogram on the flap. Making no attempt to open it, she stared at the scrawling handwriting and her heart skipped a beat. It had to be from him, it just had to.

Aware that the young maid was watching her eagerly, waiting for her to open it, she went towards the stairs and ran up them lightly. ‘Thank you,’ she called over her shoulder, and guessed that her concealment of the letter’s contents would become the topic of much gossip and speculation in the kitchen. But she couldn’t bear to open it in front of anyone else.

She went to the schoolroom first and checked that Eduardo was still busy, then she went to her own suite of rooms. Once inside she tore open the envelope and drew out the sheet of thick paper it contained. It was a letter, and an urgent glance at the signature at the end assured her of its writer’s identity.

Dear Susannah, she read,

As you do not wish me to come to the house and as I cannot telephone without revealing my identity, I am forced to use this method of contacting you. I would like to see you again. I am expected to return to Spain on Sunday and therefore I would hope that we might dine together this evening or tomorrow evening. I realize that this is very short notice, that you may have some previous engagement, but I very much want to see you again, Susannah, and I shall wait in anticipation of your reply. You may reach me at the hotel at the head of this page.

Yours, Fernando Cuevas.

She re-read the letter twice, sitting on the edge of her armchair, conscious of a rising sense of exhilaration out of all proportion to the situation. But she couldn’t help it. To know that she was going to see him again filled her with excited expectation.

Putting the letter away carefully in her handbag, she returned to the schoolroom. As soon as she could she would ask Señor Castana whether she had any objections to her going out that evening. Now that Señor Castana was home surely no one would mind. Then she would telephone Fernando Cuevas’s hotel while she and Eduardo were out walking this afternoon.

To her delight, Lucie Castana came to the schoolroom some fifteen minutes later and after speaking to Eduardo and complimenting him upon his painstaking work, she said: ‘Señorita, my husband and I will be dining out this evening.’ She didn’t seem to notice Susannah’s consternation, but continued: ‘It is a little celebration, you understand? He has told you, has he not, of this most excellent appointment in the United States?’ She hugged herself delightedly. ‘Oh, can you not imagine how wonderful it will be, señorita, living in such an exciting city? Meeting so many interesting people? There will be so much to do – so many places to go! I was becoming bored with London, and I can’t wait to get away. Carlos has said we are to have a house on Long Island, and Eduardo will learn to swim and have other children to play with—’

She broke off suddenly as she became aware of Susannah’s dismayed expression. ‘What is the matter, señorita?’ she demanded. ‘Are you not pleased that my husband has gained this promotion? Why are you looking so – so miserable?’

Susannah tried to compose herself. ‘Nothing’s wrong, señora,’ she denied. ‘So you’re going out this evening to celebrate.’

‘Have I not just said so?’ Lucie looked annoyed. ‘Is there something wrong in that? Surely you do not object to staying in this evening, señorita?’

‘No. No, of course not, señora.’

Susannah shook her head trying not to feel too disappointed. There was always tomorrow evening, and it was something to look forward to.

Lucie’s nostrils flared. ‘If you have made arrangements for this evening, señorita, then you must change them to tomorrow!’

Susannah nodded. ‘Very well, señora.’

Lucie gave her one last impatient stare and then turned and left the room. Obviously she considered Susannah’s attitude lacking. She had no doubt expected some enthusiasm about the proposed move to New York, but Susannah couldn’t think about that now. For the present her thoughts were obsessed with the desire to get to a telephone and tell Fernando Cuevas that she would have dinner with him the following evening.

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