The Japanese Screen. Anne Mather

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      ‘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.

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