The Japanese Screen

by Anne Mather

  Harlequin is proud to present a fabulous

  collection of fantastic novels by

  bestselling, much loved author

  ANNE MATHER

  Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

  publishing industry, having written over one hundred

  and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

  forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

  This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

  for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

  passionate writing has given.

  We are sure you will love them all!

  I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

  I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

  These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

  We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

  The Japanese Screen

  Anne Mather

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  FERNANDO hadn’t wanted to come to the party. Parties were not his favourite form of relaxation and after the hectic negotiations of the past few days that was what he most needed. But the Castanas were friends of the family, and he could hardly have refused Lucie’s invitation without causing a rift in relationships. All the same, after over an hour of small talk, of circulating in a smoke-filled room and making conversation out of a multitude of inane pleasantries, he was more than ready to leave. He was tired and not in the best of tempers, and he was growing weary of Lucie’s determined attempts to flirt with him. She was a married woman with a child, and should have been beyond such a thing. Certainly in Spain her behaviour would have caused a number of raised eyebrows and the kind of gossip no self-respecting woman would want to arouse. But apparently Lucie imagined herself far from the rigid ethics of her own country, and as her husband was away for a few days on business, she was surrendering to the somewhat permissive society of London.

  He looked round the crowded lounge wondering what excuse he could give for leaving so early. By no means were all the people present Spaniards. It was true that a large percentage were fellow compatriots, but the Castanas numbered English and Americans among their friends, too. There was a plentiful supply of wines and spirits, should he have felt so inclined, and an excellent buffet occupied the long tables to one side of the room. A hi-fi system offered an undistracting mixture of popular music and he supposed that of its type it was a reasonably successful gathering. But the truth was he was bored, and he thought with a sense of resignation that the isolation of his study back home would have offered a more than adequate substitute.

  ‘Fernando?’

  Lucie was offering him yet another cocktail which he politely refused, summoning his determination to apologize and take his leave, when there was an unexpected interruption of the proceedings. A small boy came careering into the room, looking round a trifle desperately for a familiar face. When he saw Lucie he made straight for her, clinging to her skirts and crying wildly. He was wearing only pyjama trousers and as his face and hands were most obviously wet and possibly sticky, Lucie, not unnaturally, tried to push him away from her. But the boy cried all the louder and a ripple of amused speculation ran round the room.

  A girl was following the boy, Fernando saw now, and she had halted rather uncertainly at the door to the crowded lounge. Then, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she moved towards the boy and his mother. She was embarrassed, no doubt conscious of the conspicuousness of her blue nylon overall beside so many extravagant evening creations, and Fernando felt an unexpected stirring of sympathy. Women, young or old, did not particularly interest him, but this slender girl, a little above average height with dark-fringed eyes and a mass of ash-blonde hair that was presently secured rather inadequately by two elastic bands, aroused his compassion.

  ‘What do you think you are doing, Eduardo?’ Lucie was demanding in English for the benefit of their guests. ‘You know you are not permitted to come in here in the evenings. Señorita King!’ She turned on the girl. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  The girl’s cheeks were pink, but she took a firm hold on the boy’s hand before replying. ‘I’m sorry, señora. Eduardo has been unwell, and he insisted upon seeing you. I told him you could not be disturbed, but he ran away from me.’

  Lucie clearly couldn’t decide whether or not to rail at the girl there and then or retire gracefully and make her feelings known at some future date. However, her Latin temperament seemed to get the better of discretion, because in heated tones she exclaimed: ‘What do you mean—he ran away from you? What were you doing, señorita? Are you not capable of controlling one small boy?’

  The girl stood her ground, and Fernando admired her for it. ‘Eduardo and I were in the bathroom trying to get him cleaned up,’ she declared. ‘He slipped out of the door when my back was turned. I followed as quickly—’

  Lucie waved her hands impatiently. ‘Spare me these small details, señorita,’ she snapped. ‘You know perfectly well that while his father is away Eduardo is inclined to be a little—er—upset.’

  The girl listened and then said quietly, but distinctly: ‘I think the amount of sweets he consumed this afternoon is a more likely explanation, señora—’

  Lucie clasped her hands together. ‘That will do, señorita,’ she interrupted her shrilly. ‘I will not be argued with in this insolent manner—’

  ‘Lucie! Cool down!’ Fernando spoke to her in their own language. ‘There is no harm done.’ He glanced in the girl’s direction and met her level gaze, noting that she did not seem to welcome his intervention, but going on in spite of it. ‘Er—Señorita King is not to blame. Eduardo is young—he is impulsive. He naturally wanted to be with you—he wanted your love and attention when he was feeling unwell.’

  Lucie measured his gaze for a long moment and then he saw the unwelcome invitation appear in her eyes again. ‘Yes—yes. You are right, Fernando,’ she agreed, responding in an
intimate patois. She turned back to her son and his companion. ‘You may go along with Señorita King, Eduardo. We will say no more about this tonight.’ She shifted her gaze to encompass the girl. ‘We will discuss it further in the morning—’

  But now Eduardo was hanging back, tugging at the girl’s hand, looking imploringly at his mother, then at Fernando. ‘I want to stay, Mama,’ he whimpered. ‘Do not send me away!’

  Fernando stepped forward, squatting down beside the boy, smiling at him encouragingly. ‘Your mama is busy right now, Eduardo. As you can see, she has guests to attend to. Tomorrow she will have time for you.’

  ‘Tomorrow she will be tired,’ accused Eduardo tearfully. ‘And Papa is away…’

  Fernando hesitated. He had no wish to get further involved with the Castanas, but Eduardo’s forlorn face aroused his sympathy. ‘I have an idea,’ he said gently. ‘Tomorrow I shall not be busy—or tired. How would you like me to come and take you—where?’ He shrugged. ‘The park—the zoo?’

  Eduardo’s face lit up. ‘I have not been to the zoo,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘The zoo it is, then. Tomorrow morning at—let me see—ten o’clock?’ He raised his eyes to the girl’s face, and speaking in English said: ‘Eduardo and I are going to the zoo. Will tomorrow at ten be suitable?’

  The girl inclined her head and looked to Lucie for guidance. ‘I—I suppose so.’

  ‘That is so kind of you, Fernando,’ exclaimed Lucie, as he straightened. ‘Eduardo misses a man’s attention.’ She smiled, and her eyes said: As I do myself, but Fernando chose to ignore it.

  ‘Very well.’ Fernando was speaking in English again now. ‘Good-bye for the present, Eduardo.’

  ‘Adios, señor!’ Eduardo’s face was wreathed in smiles and he went with the girl quite happily then.

  The girl herself walked away with a certain amount of unconscious dignity, and watching her straight back Fernando wondered why he had bothered to intervene on her behalf. He had not done it for Lucie’s sake, to prevent her from making a fool of herself in front of her guests, he had wanted to save the girl—what was her name, Señorita King, further embarrassment. But it seemed she had no appreciation of his motives.

  The following morning Fernando’s reservations had increased. He bitterly regretted the impulse he had had to give Eduardo an unexpected treat. It was giving Lucie the entirely false impression that he wished to see her again, and nothing could have been further from the truth. After showering and dressing and breakfasting in his suite at the Savoy, he had an almost overwhelming inclination to telephone the Castana house and make some excuse for not taking the boy out that morning, but he could not bring himself to act so selfishly. Instead, he dressed in a navy denim suit with a belted jacket, combed his thick straight hair and decided it needed cutting, and took a taxi to Lorrimer Terrace before he had second thoughts.

  A young maid admitted him to the now quiet house. Only the pervading aroma of stale cigarette smoke and a faint drift of perfume evidenced the party of the night before, and he waited impatiently in the morning room, eager to be gone.

  A few minutes later the maid reappeared. ‘Master Eduardo will be ready presently, sir,’ she said. ‘And Señora Castana suggests that you take lunch with her on your return.’

  Fernando’s mouth turned down at the corners, and the maid who was watching him thought what an attractive mouth it was. He was an attractive man altogether, without the somewhat swarthy case to his skin that Señor Castana himself had. He was tall, too, taller than the average Spaniard, though not so tall as to appear ungainly. His hair was dark, but not black, and his clothes fitted him closely, emphasizing the powerful length of his legs and the muscular expanse of his chest.

  ‘You may inform Señora Castana after I have gone that I shall be unable to accept her invitation,’ he stated quietly. ‘I am not sure, but Eduardo and I may—take lunch out.’

  The maid looked surprised, and Fernando conceded that perhaps he had spoken a little bluntly. But there was no other way to avoid difficulties. So long as Carlos was away on business, Lucie was a menace.

  There was the sound of footsteps behind them in the hall and Fernando swung round as Eduardo came into the room followed closely by the young woman he knew as Señorita King. Inclining his head, he spoke to both of them: ‘Good morning, Eduardo. Good morning, Miss King.’

  Eduardo gave a little skip. At seven years of age, a trip to the zoo was an exciting experience. ‘Are you ready to go, señor?’ he demanded eagerly.

  Fernando smiled. ‘I see you are,’ he commented, still speaking English.

  ‘Oh, yes. I have been waiting for you to come for hours!’ declared Eduardo, with characteristic exaggeration.

  Fernando shifted his attention to the young woman. This morning she was not wearing the nylon overall, but he suspected the neat grey skirt, the white shirt blouse and broad black belt signified some kind of uniform. Her hair, too, had been plaited and formed a coronet on top of her head. Although she was slim, she was not thin, and he could see the rounded swell of her breasts pressing against the material of her blouse. He looked away quickly, conscious of an unaccustomed quickening of his senses. It was not like him to notice such things, and he despised himself for doing so. The girl was nothing to him, and from the way she was looking at him he sensed she objected strongly to his appraisal.

  ‘Well—’ he began determinedly, forcing an enthusiasm he did not feel. ‘Shall we go?’

  They all moved out into the hall and the maid departed about her business. The girl secured the zip on Eduardo’s anorak and stepped aside. But even as she did so a voice hailed them from above, a voice Fernando recognized only too well.

  ‘Fernando! Oh, Fernando, you are still here! I am so glad I have caught you.’

  Lucie was standing on the stairs, a flimsy negligee draped about her. The girl, Miss King, seemed embarrassed and would have left them, but Fernando found himself doing something he had never intended to do. He looked up at Lucie, but as he did so he spoke in an undertone to the girl: ‘Get your coat, Miss King. You are coming with us.’

  She stared at him as if he was mad, but Lucie was speaking again and Fernando had to move reluctantly towards the stairs.

  ‘If you will wait a few minutes, Fernando,’ she was saying, ‘I will come with you. That is…’ her lips curved provocatively, ‘that is—if you do not mind.’

  Fernando thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Do you think it is your sort of outing, Lucie?’ he inquired dryly. ‘Er—you are aware that Miss King is accompanying us, are you not?’

  Lucie’s brows drew together. ‘Miss King?’

  ‘But of course.’ Fernando was charming. He turned to look into the girl’s indignant, but as yet impotent, face. ‘Is that not so, Miss King?’

  It was the moment of truth, the moment he dreaded. He was daring her to deny it. But to his relief she merely bent her head and said in muffled tones: ‘Yes, of course, señor.’

  Lucie looked almost as angry as she had done the night before, but she controlled herself by a supreme effort and said: ‘In that case, there is no point, is there, caro?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Instead, I shall await your return with impatience. Did the maid tell you that I expect you to stay for lunch?’

  Fernando sighed. ‘She did. But I cannot.’

  ‘Why not?’ Lucie was angry again.

  ‘It is not possible, Lucie. The zoo is a large place. I do not expect to be back before—well—four o’clock.’

  ‘Four o’clock!’ Lucie was furious. She gathered the negligée closer about her, apparently uncaring of the fact of its transparency. ‘Very well, then. You will dine with us, si?’

  Fernando hesitated. To issue a firm refusal could continue this discussion interminably. With a faint shrug, he said: ‘Perhaps, Lucie, perhaps.’ He forced a smile. ‘We must be going. I have a taxi waiting.’

  Lucie’s jaw was taut. ‘Until dinner, then.’

  Fernando gave her a small bow. �
�Until later,’ he agreed, non-committally.

  Miss King put on a grey coat to match her skirt and accompanied him out to the cab. They all climbed in and not until Eduardo was staring in an engrossed manner out of the window did she say: ‘I should be glad if you would never place me in such an awkward position again, señor! The invitation you issued was for Eduardo alone, and you know it!’

  Fernando lay back in his seat, half turned towards her, watching her intently. Her voice was low and angry, but it had a husky intonation which he found pleasing. When she was angry, as now, she was disturbingly feminine, and not even the plain, even ugly, uniform could disguise that He wondered what she would look like in casual clothes? He wondered what her name was. How old she was.

  Realizing she was waiting for him to make some comment, he said: ‘All right. It was—initially. However, I thought that perhaps you might enjoy the outing—’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ She was abrupt.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Fernando didn’t altogether care for her manner. ‘Is not that a rather insolent remark?’

  She sighed. ‘I’m not blind, señor. Nor am I a fool.’

  ‘I never imagined you were.’

  ‘Nevertheless, that was not the reason you insisted on my company, and I’d be grateful if in future you’d refrain from using me to extricate yourself from situations which have grown too hot for you!’

  ‘Why, you—’ He bit off an epithet, conscious that for the first time in his life he had the urge to strike a woman. He stared at her angrily. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner, would ever dare to do so! He was enraged, not least because although in one way she was speaking the truth, his own involvement was such an innocent one. ‘Do you realize I could put you out of this cab here and now, drive back to Señora Castana, and have you dismissed at once!’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s entirely up to you, of course.’

  ‘Don’t you care?’ He was astounded.

  She hesitated. ‘Well, I shouldn’t like to lose my job for incompetence, but this is rather different, isn’t it?’