Kitabı oku: «The Japanese Screen», sayfa 3

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.

CHAPTER THREE

IN fact, Susannah did not get to speak to Fernando on the telephone. When she rang his hotel that afternoon, the receptionist politely informed her that Señor Cuevas was out and could she take a message. As Susannah could not be sure of being able to telephone at some other time she had to leave a message with the girl, but it was an unsatisfactory arrangement and she hoped it would reach him. She spent the evening chafing at the restriction she had placed on herself by deciding not to involve anyone else which prevented her from making any call from the Castana house.

On Saturdays, Eduardo had lessons in the morning as usual, but in the afternoon if his father was at home he was taken out by his parents. It gave Susannah a couple of hours to go shopping or attend to her own personal affairs and this week she decided to wash her hair. It was thick and long and took some time to dry, but she used no hair-dryer, allowing it to dry naturally on a towel about her shoulders. Newly washed, it was smooth and silky and she decided that tonight she would leave it loose.

It was not until Eduardo was in bed and she was changing in her room that she realized that no actual arrangement for meeting Fernando had been made. She decided to go to the end of the terrace as before and hoped that her employers would not notice that she appeared to be walking out in a long dress.

It had taken her some time to decide what to wear. At first she had considered wearing trousers. She had several pairs of trousers that looked good when combined with a smock or a lurex tunic, but a feline desire to display a certain femininity forbade such casual attire. Instead she was wearing an amber-coloured caftan, edged with blue and green lurex braid, that dipped deeply to the cleft of her breasts in front and had wide sleeves that displayed her slender arms to advantage. She wore little make-up, adding only a green eye-shadow and a colourless lustre to her lips. Gold hoops swung out from the ashen fairness of her hair and she knew she was looking her best.

As it was a cool evening, she wore a navy blue velvet cape over her dress as she hurried towards the corner just before eight o’clock. As before there was no sign of her escort, and she linked her arms under the cape praying that he had received her message and that he did intend meeting her.

By ten past eight she was feeling chilled to the bone, and it wasn’t entirely due to the cold air about her. Where could he be? Should she go and find a telephone and ring his hotel? Perhaps he had not received her message after all. Perhaps he had left for Spain a day earlier than planned!

The horror that this aroused in her frightened her a little. She was allowing things to get out of hand. Heavens, she had only been out with the man once. She could hardly count that visit to the zoo as an invitation to her. And never at any time had he given her reason to suppose that he found her more than ordinarily attractive.

At twenty minutes past eight she gave up hope. He wasn’t coming and she hadn’t the courage to ring his hotel and find out why. She turned miserably and began walking slowly back along the terrace. Perhaps she would be able to slip indoors again without the Castanas knowing. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain why her evening had ended before it had even begun.

She had taken only a few steps when a voice that she ought not to have been so overwhelmingly aware of shouted: ‘Susannah! Susannah! Por dios, I thought I would miss you!’

She turned rather unsteadily. Fernando was leaping out of the gold Granada at the kerb, running towards her. She stood motionless, unable to show either delight or dismay at his sudden appearance, a choking emotion threatening to devastate her.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he was saying, a smile in his voice. ‘Your London traffic is – how do you say it – el diablo, si? I have been stuck in a jam for the best part of forty minutes, and—’ He broke off, suddenly becoming aware of her quivering immobility. ‘Que? What is it? Susannah – what is wrong?’ He lifted her chin with his fingers looking down into her eyes penetratingly. ‘Dios! You are upset! I am a clumsy fool, am I not? But you knew I would come – surely you knew that!’

Susannah couldn’t trust herself not to give her feelings away. She drew her chin away from his hand and made an indifferent little movement of her shoulders. ‘How am I supposed to know anything?’ she demanded unsteadily.

His dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘But of course you knew. Why else would I have issued the invitation?’ He reached for her impatiently, his fingers closing over the fine bones of her shoulders, his rings digging into her flesh, giving her a little shake. ‘Do you not know how frustrated I felt, sitting in the car, unable to contact you?’

He was close, too close. His body was only inches away from hers. His warm breath was fanning her forehead. Had her hands not been trapped within the enveloping folds of her cape she felt sure she would not have been able to prevent herself from reaching out and touching him. Instead, she looked up into his face. There was concern in the fine darkness of his eyes with their fringing of thick black lashes, concern and something else, something that caused a sudden breathlessness, a sudden inexplicable weakness in her legs.

‘Sagrada Maria, Susannah!’ he muttered huskily, ‘do not look at me like that! Do not make me do something we would both regret!’

Her face flamed and she would have pulled away from him, but he shook his head a trifle grimly and with a kind of rough determination propelled her towards the car. Once inside, she averted her head and he got in beside her without a word, driving away from the quiet terrace with his usual expertise.

As they turned into the main stream of traffic he spoke again. He had evidently got himself well under control, and his voice was cool as he said: ‘I suggest we dine at my hotel. It’s a little late to be leaving London, do you not think so?’

Susannah made no response and he took her silence to mean acquiescence. They drove through the busy streets thronged with theatre-goers, down Shaftesbury Avenue and into the Strand. Susannah had never been into the Savoy before, and she was glad now that she had chosen to wear a long dress. Fernando for his part seemed totally unimpressed by his surroundings, but in his expensively-cut charcoal lounge suit, a dark red shirt and tie giving him a somewhat alien air, he slotted effortlessly into this background.

He left her for a moment in the reception hall to speak to a man who looked like a manager of some sort. When he came back he put his hand beneath her elbow and led her towards the lift. She looked at him with startled eyes and his expression relaxed a little.

‘I thought we might dine in my suite, Susannah,’ he explained quietly. ‘Do you have any objections?’

Susannah sought about in her mind for a suitable reply. She felt sure that in Spain he would never dream of taking a woman to dine in his suite, but she didn’t know how to make the protest.

‘Is – is there something wrong with dining in the restaurant?’ she inquired unevenly.

‘No.’ Fernando halted, looking down at her. ‘Would you prefer that?’

Susannah pressed her lips together rather unhappily. If she was honest she would admit that she would not prefer that at all. But what respect could he have for a woman who would agree to dine in his suite?

Now, she licked her lips and said: ‘If you would – rather not be seen with me—’

She had never seen anyone look so angry. Without a word, he turned and walked back across the reception area, leaving her again while he spoke to the man she had thought was the manager. Then he came back to her. She had shed her cape, but not even the attractiveness of her appearance lifted the cold anger from his eyes.

The next hour was the worst period of Susannah’s young life. The exceptional quality of the food was lost on her, and she noticed that Fernando ate little himself, merely drinking liberally of the wine and making a pretence of enjoying the steak and salad he had chosen. She was unutterably relieved when it was over and he suggested they should leave the restaurant.

In the reception area again, she collected her cape and looked at him nervously. ‘If – if you’d rather not take me home, señor, I shall quite understand,’ she murmured, in a small voice.

There was silence for a few moments and then she heard him heave a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Susannah,’ he said, and she thought he sounded strained. ‘I’ve been – how do you say it – a pig all evening!’ He shook his head, running a hand round the back of his neck, and tugging at the hair on his nape. ‘How will you ever forgive me?’

Susannah trembled. ‘It was my fault—’ she began, but he interrupted her.

‘No, it was mine. You were quite right to refuse my invitation. It would have been a – dangerous situation, and you were right to avoid it. I am sorry.’

Susannah’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, and with an exclamation, he said: ‘Come! I will take you home. I have an early start in the morning.’

Susannah hung back now. His words chilled her more than his attitude all evening had done, even though they were spoken with warmth and gentleness. Without moving, she looked all about her and said: ‘What an attractive building this is. I’ve never been here before. Does it accommodate a lot of people?’

‘A reasonable number,’ he remarked dryly. ‘And surely you know that as well as I do.’

‘Yes.’ Susannah still lingered. ‘You said you had a suite. What does that consist of?’

Fernando ran his palm down his shirt front, unconsciously drawing Susannah’s attention to the fact that he wore nothing beneath it. ‘A suite can consist of many rooms or only a few,’ he replied briefly.

‘Does your suite have many rooms?’

Fernando adjusted the knot of his tie. ‘Does it matter?’ Then, as her eyes clouded, he added: ‘I have a small suite – two bedrooms, a lounge, a bathroom. Does that satisfy you?’

Susannah looked down at her hands. ‘Could I see it?’

There was another pregnant silence, and finally Fernando said: ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Susannah,’ in terse tones.

She looked up. ‘You sound – angry. Why?’

Fernando took her arm impatiently. ‘It’s time we were leaving, Susannah. Come along. I’ll take you home.’

Susannah made no further demur. Her small spurt of recklessness had been extinguished, and she wished she had not been so foolish. In the car, she stole a surreptitious glance at her watch. Was it only a quarter to ten? It seemed much longer than ninety minutes since she had been waiting so eagerly for him to come.

He drove away from the hotel and along the Embankment. Susannah could see the shadows on the river, and on the opposite bank there were the lights of the Festival Hall. The muted sounds of a ship’s siren sounded mournfully across the water and she shivered. Its sad lament suited her mood. Since leaving the hotel Fernando had said nothing at all, and she was overpoweringly aware that she had quickly destroyed his momentary sense of contrition at the boorishness of his behaviour. After tonight she would probably never see him again, and she couldn’t help but think that he would be glad to be rid of her.

In a very short time they were drawing up in Lorrimer Terrace and Susannah waited impatiently for the car to stop so that she could get out. Misery cloaked her like an almost physical presence, and she couldn’t understand why this man, whom she had known less than a week, should have become so important to her. He didn’t care about her, that was obvious. He might find her physically attractive, that she had to accept, as witness his suggestion that they should dine in his suite that evening; but it had been a fleeting attraction which had not survived more than an hour in her company, and she burned with humiliation when she recalled how afterwards she had practically invited him to take advantage of her.

As soon as the car drew to a halt, she reached for the door handle, but was stayed when he said quietly: ‘Just one minute, Susannah. Please.’

She sat back in her seat, withdrawing her hand inside her cape again, glad of its concealing folds to hide her trembling nervousness. Her companion switched off the engine, and sat in silence for a few moments. Then he half turned towards her, one arm along the back of her seat.

‘I can’t let you go like this,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I know I’ve been a brute this evening, but—’ He shook his head. ‘I ought not to have invited you out again. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry if I’ve made you miserable.’

Susannah’s throat felt choked. The last thing she had expected was for him to apologize to her. ‘That – that’s all right,’ she managed. ‘I – I shouldn’t have accepted.’

‘Oh, Susannah!’ He looked across at her in the gloom, and she could see the glitter of his eyes. ‘What can I say? What can I do? I’m leaving tomorrow. There is no time to show you that I mean what I say.’

‘Oh, please …’ Susannah was near to tears, and they would be the final humiliation. ‘Thank – thank you for a pleasant evening – oh!’

She broke off on a gasp as she felt his fingers against her neck, under the weight of her hair. They moved with a certain sureness to her throat, releasing the catch of her cape so that he could slide it from her shoulders. Then he moved a little closer, uttering an imprecation in his own language at the barrier caused by the gear console.

Susannah remained perfectly still, not looking at him, not making any attempt to encourage or discourage him. She didn’t believe this was really happening. Even when she felt the heat of his body through the silk of his shirt that brushed her arm, she told herself that she was exaggerating his nearness. She couldn’t really feel the pressure of his thigh against hers, or smell the faint aroma of shaving lotion and tobacco that clung to his clothes. And yet it seemed real enough, and there was another scent, too – the warm male scent of his body that seemed to be reaching out and enveloping her in a warm and intimate atmosphere. She trembled. She had to be sensible about this. Just because she was experiencing the most wanton desires towards this man she must not imagine that he felt the same way towards her.

‘Susannah.’ His breath warmed her ear. ‘Look at me. Please – look at me.’

She looked. He was closer. She wasn’t imagining it. When she turned her face, his was only inches away. The light from the street lamp outside showed the naked hunger in his eyes, the sensual curve of his mouth. With one hand he cupped her cheek, his thumb moving probingly against her lips, caressing them, parting them. Then he bent his head and put his mouth to those parted lips, kissing her gently, exploringly, until something seemed to fuse between them and he could no longer deny his need of her. His hand slid down to her throat, and the pressure of his mouth became an urgent force that impelled her back against the soft upholstery.

‘Te deseo, Susannah, de mi alma,’ he whispered, releasing her lips to seek the hollow between her breasts. ‘Forgive me, forgive me, but I cannot help myself—’

Susannah’s hands came up around his neck, curling into the thick vitality of his hair. She drew his mouth back to hers, returning his kisses with innocent abandon, and not until he dragged himself away from her to slump heavily over the steering wheel did she realize that she had been behaving in a manner tantamount to begging him to make love to her.

With shaking fingers she gathered up her cape, fumbled the door open and stumbled out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran across the pavement and up the steps and into the Castana house. She could hear sounds of music from the drawing-room, but there was no one about, and she ran weakly up the stairs, not stopping until she had reached the safety of her own room. Then she alowed the cape to fall to the floor and threw herself upon her bed to sob uncontrollably …

On Sunday morning, she felt distinctly unwell. Her head throbbed from the amount of weeping she had done the night before, and her eyes were red-rimmed and haggard. She deliberately applied a heavy make-up before meeting the rest of the household, but that didn’t stop Lucie Castana from commenting on her appearance.

‘Were you so late yesterday evening, señorita?’ she exclaimed, examining Susannah’s dark-ringed eyes. ‘My husband thought he heard you come in soon after ten o’clock.’

‘He did.’ Susannah made a casual gesture. ‘I – I didn’t sleep very well, señora. I – I think I may have a cold coming on.’

Lucie Castana raised her dark eyebrows. ‘Then I trust you will not breathe your germs all over Eduardo, señorita, or indeed over the rest of us. You must stay in your room if you feel unwell.’

‘Yes, señora.’ Susannah was resigned. In truth that was exactly what she wanted to do.

‘In any case,’ continued her employer, ‘my husband and I are taking Eduardo out again today. As Carlos is so soon to leave this country, we have friends to visit – to whom we must bid adios for the present.’

‘Yes, señora.’

‘We will be leaving in an hour or so. If you are fit when we return home, I shall expect you to put Eduardo to bed as usual, señorita.’

‘Yes, señora. ’

The house was quiet after the Castanas had left. The servants, the cook-housekeeper and the maid, had been given the rest of the day off, too, and Susannah had been left a cold lunch in the dining-room should she require it. Mrs. Travers, the cook-housekeeper, left soon after her employers. She had a sister in Ealing, and Susannah speculated that she was probably going there. Eleanor, the maid, left a little later, but as Susannah knew very little about her, she had no idea where she might be going. She supposed in other circumstances she could have been friendly with Eleanor, who was about her own age, but a governess’s position in a household was still a nebulous one, accepted neither upstairs nor downstairs, as it were.

At about eleven o’clock she went down to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. Now that she was alone she felt restless and every aircraft that passed overhead reminded her that this morning Fernando would be on a flight for Madrid. She wondered what part of Spain he came from – where he lived – what he did. She would never know now …

Forcing herself to think about other things, she began considering the Castanas’ eventual move to New York. Did she want to go with them, or would she prefer to remain in England and take another post? Taking another post would mean getting used to a new routine, making friends with a new child, or children, settling into another household. Was that what she wanted to do? Or ought she to take the advice of her best friend and think seriously of settling down and getting married?

Thinking of her friend, Susannah moved towards the hall and the telephone. She and Margaret French had been at college together, but Margaret had barely arrived in London and settled into a job before meeting a fellow teacher and getting married. Now she had a two-year-old baby daughter, Toni, and Susannah was as welcome in their home in Kennington as any of their own relatives. She decided to telephone Margaret and ask whether they would give her lunch if she came over. She knew without conceit they’d be delighted. It was almost three weeks since she had seen them.

But even as she reached for the receiver the phone began to ring and she stifled a startled cry before answering it. She gave the number and was about to tell whoever was calling that Señor and Señora Castana were away for the day when a deep masculine voice said: ‘Susannah! Susannah, is that you?’

Her legs gave way under her and she sought the support of a polished chest nearby. ‘Fernando!’ she breathed in astonishment, unconscious of the fact that she was using his Christian name. ‘But – where are you?’

‘Susannah! Oh, it is good to hear your voice again.’

‘Fernan – I mean—’ She halted uncertainly as the initial shock of hearing his voice began to wear off. ‘Señor Cuevas – where are you calling from?’

‘It was Fernando a moment ago,’ he reproved her gently. ‘I much prefer that.’

She was glad he could not witness her embarrassment. ‘But how can you be telephoning me? I – I thought you would have been on the plane by now.’

There was a moment’s silence and she thought at first that he had rung off, but then he said quietly: ‘My flight left over an hour ago, Susannah.’

Susannah gasped, ‘What?’

‘You heard what I said.’ He sounded suddenly impatient. ‘But now – how was I lucky enough to reach you immediately? Where are your employers?’

‘Señor and Señora Castana have gone out for the day. They won’t be back until early this evening.’

‘Is that so?’ He sounded very interested. ‘And you are free?’

‘I – I suppose so.’

‘You sound – reluctant.’ There was concern in his voice now. ‘Do you not wish to see me again after last night?’

‘Oh – Fernando!’ She heaved a tremulous sigh. ‘Of course I want to see you. What do you want me to do?’

He hesitated. ‘I am telephoning from my hotel. I will get a taxi and be with you in – say – fifteen minutes?’

‘All right.’

After she had hung up the receiver she sat for a moment staring down at her hands and then she became galvanized into action. She rushed up the stairs to her room and went straight to look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The thick make-up she had applied looked caked on her face and with an exclamation she ran some water into the basin and scrubbed it all off with a face-cloth. Then she looked at herself again, still most dissatisfied with what she could see. Whatever would he think of her? She looked an absolute hag!

Turning from the mirror, she went into her bedroom and stripped off the skirt and blouse she had been wearing. She took a pair of lemon slacks from her wardrobe and tugged them on, and then added a cream chunky sweater. She looked a pale reflection of herself, and taking the brush she tugged it viciously through her hair, dispersing some of her frustration in the deliberate masochism.

The doorbell rang as she was applying a blue eyeshadow and she glanced quickly at her watch. It was only between ten and twelve minutes since his call. It couldn’t be Fernando already – could it?

She was by no means ready to face him yet. Her cheeks were still without make-up of any kind and she had planned to apply a light rouge to give herself some artificial colour. She sighed. Whoever it was, it couldn’t be for her. They would probably go away if she didn’t answer.

The bell rang again, insistently, as though someone was deliberately keeping their finger pressed on it. She would have to go. After all, it could be something important. She put down the brush she had been using, and with a resigned gesture at her reflection went out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the hall. By now whoever was calling was growing impatient and the bell was ringing continuously.

She unlocked the heavy door and opened it cautiously, stepping back in amazement when she saw who it was. ‘Fernando!’ she gasped. ‘How did you get here so soon?’

He came in without speaking, his eyes eloquent with feeling. He closed the door behind him and then stood looking at her. Susannah felt terrible. What must he be thinking? She had not even finished brushing her hair.

‘I – I’m sorry—’ she began. ‘I – I thought it must be someone else—’

And then she was in his arms, her hands were imprisoned against his chest, and his mouth sought the parted sweetness of hers. She had never been so close to him before. In the car they had been separated by the gear console and only the upper part of his body had been against her. But now she could feel the lean strength of him, and as his hands slid down to her hips to bring her closer she was made irresistibly aware of his stirring masculinity. His jacket was fastened at first, but he unbuttoned it and she yielded against him, sliding her arms around his waist and making little involuntary sounds of pleasure.

At last he propelled her away from him, holding her at arm’s length even though she protested and tried to wriggle close to him again. ‘Susannah,’ he muttered urgently. ‘We must be sensible about this. I want to make love to you very much, but not in the hall of the house of Carlos Castana!’