The Japanese Lantern (5 page)

“Yes. Yes, of course I like it,” she insisted quickly.

He put the glass down on the table with a click and took her hand in his.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Don’t you think you’ll care for us in Japan?”

She was able to laugh quite naturally.

“I love it already!” she said sincerely. “There’s nothing wrong. Truly there isn’t.”

His navy blue eyes searched her face.

‘I wish I could believe you,” he said. “After last night
—
”

“Don’t!” she commanded him. “I had a wonderful day yesterday, the most wonderful day of my life, and I thank you for it. But that was yesterday, and today I’m your nephew’s governess—
”

“And that’s the way you want it?” Could it really be that his voice sounded hurt and bewildered
?

“That
’
s the way I want it,” she said bleakly.

“Very well,
Miss Kennedy
, that’s the way it’ll be!”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Jonquil timidly held out the wine glass to Jason, hoping that he would accept it as a peace offering, but he brushed it impatiently aside.

“Seeing that you’re so anxious to do your duty by my nephew, perhaps you should meet him,” he said suddenly. “I’ll go and fetch him and bring him to you.”

When he was gone the room seemed incredibly empty. It hurt, too, that he should have looked at her with—well, not contempt exactly, but as though he was disappointed with her for some reason. It wasn’t fair when he was so obviously already involved with Yoshiko! Why else should Mrs. Buckmaster tell him, in just that particular way, that she was waiting outside in the car? And that slightly proprietorial air of Yoshiko’s towards him! What other possible explanation could there be?

Without thinking what she was doing, she filled the little wine glass with sake and tossed it back down her throat as she had seen other people do with gin. For an instant she thought she was going to choke and the tears came to her eyes as the warm liquid tore at the back of her throat.

“Sake is a Japanese drink, you should sip it,” a small solemn voice informed her. “You must drink it with ceremony.”

Jonquil jumped and turned round quickly to face the voice.

“I’m Alexander Buckmaster,” it continued.
Who
are
you?”

He was too small to have such a gruff, serious way of speaking. He was dressed in jeans and an American shirt of some unknown tartan, with a crew-cut and large brown eyes, and she thought he was adorable.

“I’m Jonquil Kennedy,” she obliged.

“Jonquil? I never heard of a girl called
that
before.”

“It’s a flower,” Jonquil said weakly. “It grows in England and my mother was very fond of it.”

“Oh, I see.” That apparently explained everything to his satisfaction. “Do you think I was called after Alexander the Great?”

“The one who wept because he had no more worlds to conquer?”

The small boy grinned.

“I say, did he?” he asked. “He must have been an awful fool. Uncle Jason says there’s always something to look for. He was called after someone who spent all his time looking for a golden fleece. He told me so. But I don’t know what he’s looking for. He looks an awful lot!”

For someone of six years of age, Alexander was going to take some keeping up with, Jonquil thought. She wondered what sort of things he did in his lessons and hoped ardently that she was going to rise to the occasion.

“I expect he has to as a scientist,” she suggested.

“ ’Spect so,” he agreed.

It was unfortunate for Alexander that his mother should choose just that particular instant to enter the room, for he was standing plumb in the middle of the room, without even a chair for cover.

“Alexander!” her irate voice cried out.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Your boots!”

Alexander managed a very creditable air of surprise.

“Uncle Jason sent me inside to meet Jonquil,” he explained sturdily.

Mrs. Buckmaster took him by the hand and pointed down at the floor.

“Mud!” she said succinctly. “And you came by way of your bedroom. More mud! The tatami mats were not built for shoes, neither were these floors! Out!”

Alexander blinked.

“Jonquil didn’t say anything,” he said gruffly.
“
She
was pleased to see me!”

His small form disappeared out of the doorway and turned in the direction of his bedroom.

“Little devil,” his mother said with real affection, “he hates changing his shoes!”

“I’m afraid I didn’t notice,” Jonquil apologized.

“Well, it wouldn’t matter at home,” Mrs. Buckmaster said reasonably. “Only here in Japan with these polished floors, every little mark shows, so they very sensibly make everyone change into slippers. Of course the bedrooms are even worse. They put these mats all over the floor, like very thin mattresses, only stuffed with rice straw, and then along comes Alexander, plus boots, and we have straw all over the house!” She laughed reminiscently and sat down in one of the chairs. “Now let’s talk about you,” she suggested.

Faced with such a prospect, Jonquil very naturally could think of nothing to say.

“I hope I shall manage all right for you,” she said uncertainly. “I’m afraid I don’t speak Japanese or anything.”

“Neither do I,” Mrs. Buckmaster reassured her. “But Jason does, so if ever you get into any difficulties ask him. I’m afraid that some things won’t be very easy for you, though, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

“I’m perfectly happy that you’ll manage Alexander with the greatest of ease, he’s not a bad little boy, even if my own, but like all families we have our awkward members.” She paused, carefully considering what she was going to say. “My aunt has to live with us,” she said at last. “She has no other means of support, and, as she is a cripple, I’m naturally happier to have her under my eye, so to speak. But she’s not a very easy person and what I really want you to do is to smooth down everyone when she gets them ruffled.”

Jonquil had a sudden vision of Jason telling her that she would probably have a horde of friends and relations making sure that she did her job properly.

“Will Mrs. Tate be in charge of the house?” she asked quietly.

Mrs. Buckmaster’s eyes twinkled in a way that was very reminiscent of her brother.

“No,” she said briefly. “For everyday matters you will be in charge, and I’ve asked Jason to keep an eye on things in case you're uncertain about anything.”

Jonquil breathed a sigh of relief. Jason, sh
e
was sure, would be too busy with his
test-tubes to
bother her much.

“And when are you and your husband leaving?” she enquired, rather regretting that this pleasant woman would not be here during her stay in Japan.

“Tomorrow, I believe. Though to tell the truth Harvey’s changed plans so often that I feel as though we’ve been living out of suitcases for weeks now, instead of only just beginning!”

“I hope you’ll have a wonderful time,” Jonquil said sincerely.

“Oh, I shall,” Mrs. Buckmaster chuckled. “Especially now that I’ve seen you and know that I don’t have to worry about anything at this end.”

Then in ones and twos the household began to gather around the room, waiting for their evening m
eal. Jonquil looked at them with a mixture of nervousness and contentment. This was the beginning of her first night in Tokyo.

Mrs. Tate was not nearly as frightening as she had been led to expect. A small, astringent woman, she sat in her wheelchair, say
ing very little,
but nevertheless planting her barbs of humour with an accuracy that delighted. Jonquil could see that not everybody would enjoy being made the target of one of her more unkind remarks. It had obviously never occurred to the old woman to forgo a joke because it might hurt someone. She was deliberately malicious, but very human in her interest in all that went on all round her.

“Sit next to me, Miss Kennedy,” she commanded Jonquil as they went in to dinner. “I hate shouting across the table—wasn’t done at all
in
my young days—and I want to find out all about you.”

And so Jonquil found herself seated between Jason on her left hand and Mrs. Tate on her right, with a clean and sleepy Alexander opposite, who had been allowed to stay up for the occasion.

The dining room led out of the drawing room, the sliding doors forming most of the wall between them, and this room too was a mixture of the Western world and Japan. The table and the chairs had been brought from Australia by Mrs. Buckmaster; the pictures were mostly of Harvey Buckmaster’s house in Virginia, and the sideboard was his also; but the rest of the room was Japanese, delicate pastel shades of colouring and pretty little shaded lamps.

“What a lovely room!” Jonquil exclaimed, her eyes
lighting
on the flower arrangement in the centre of the table. “Oh, who did those?” she
asked.

“I did,” Yoshiko smiled
across at her. “I was taught by my aunt. Doing flowers is a traditional art in Japan, but they must be done very well.” These were beautifully done—only a few flowers, but each one valued individually, calling out to the spectator to look at it.

“It’s a very beautiful art,” Jonquil said with feeling. “I had no idea that flowers could be made to look so lovely.”

“You should see my house at Kyoto,” Jason told her with a smile. “I don’t spoil the effect by having Western furniture there! Do I, Yoshiko?”

The Japanese girl cast him an adoring look.

“It’s beautiful,” she agreed, “but it is you that has made it so.”

Mrs. Tate stirred impatiently in her chair.

“I suppose it was a hovel before!” she said tartly.

Jason grinned, winking at Yoshiko.

“It had been occupied by a whole lot of women,” he said slyly. “It needed that little masculine touch to make it into a proper home.”

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Tate, though her eyes were still snapping in the Japanese girl’s direction.

The conversation went on, with everyone trying to tell Jonquil all about Japan at the same moment until she was so confused that Mrs. Buckmaster called a halt and sent the reluctant Alexander to bed.

In the noise, only Yoshiko heard the telephone bell and she slipped quietly away to answer it. She loved the instrument with a mixture of awe and sheer sublime joy that all Japanese feel when faced with a receiver; and nothing gave her greater pleasure than to answer it, or to telephone all her friends one after the other if she could think of nothing better to do.

This time, however, she came back with a slight frown on her face.

“It is for Miss Kennedy,” she announced doubtfully. “He says the name is Edward and that you will remember him.”

Jonquil excused herself, as puzzled as the rest of them as to whom it could be. Edward, she thought, but I don’t
know
any Edwards! She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear.

“This is Jonquil Kennedy speaking,” She said. There was a crackling noise at the other end. “Hullo, Jonquil. This is Edward Keeving. Remember me? I followed you over today and have only just got in. I thought I'd telephone you
an
d make sure that everything is okay. I was a little worried about you.”

Jonquil felt a rush of gratitude towards him. How nice of him to have bothered!

“How very
kind
of you!” she exclaimed. “I
was
feeling a little nervous, and hearing your voice— I mean hearing the voice of someone else—
”

“Someone who isn’t going to employ you?” he suggested.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“I’m glad I’m so good for the morale,’.’ he said in pleased tones. “I thought you might be annoyed at the liberty.”

“
Oh, no!” Jonquil protested. “I appreciate it
very much.”

“Then perhaps you won
’
t mind if I ask you a
personal question?” he asked.

“Why should I?”

It was so odd, she thought, that the Edward Keeving of tonight should be
s
o different fro
m
the man in Manila, whom she hadn
’
t liked at all. This Edward Keeving was fun. He had made
h
er feel almost at home in her new surroundings.

“Because you might not want to answer,” he replied promptly. “But I shan’t give you the opportunity to change your mind. Why did you fib to me last night? Did I look so like an ogre that you couldn’t tell me the truth?”

For a moment Jonquil’s mind was blank.

“Fib to you?” she asked.

“Ah!” he laughed. “I knew that you wouldn’t want to answer!”

“It isn’t that at all. I don’t remember fibbing to you.”

“No? You said Mitchi Boko had introduced you to Mr. Tate.”

Jonquil remembered with dismay that she had said exactly that. It would be much more difficult now, she reflected, to explain just why she had said it. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive!

“Well, they were both on the aeroplane,” she excused herself.

Edward Keeving chuckled.

“That hardly begins to answer,” he said. “I can see that it will take a long time to worm the truth out of you. Suppose you come out and have dinner with me one evening?”

“I should love to.” Surprisingly that was true. There seemed to be no resemblance between this laughing voice and the awkward, deprecating
man
of the night before.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Not so soon,” she said firmly. “I hardly know exactly what I have to do yet.”

“Then shall I ring you again?”

“Would y
o
u?” Her pleasure showed in her voice. It would be very nice to be sought out by him—as an antidote to her experience with Jason.

“I certainly would. I warn you, I’m quite ruthless once my curiosity is aroused. I’m not going to allow you to escape me.”

Jonquil was still smiling when she went b
a
ck to the others.

“It was Edward Keeving,” she told them in answer to their look of enquiry, discreetly veiled, but nevertheless quite obvious.

A fleeting frown crossed Jason’s face.

“I didn’t think you particularly cared for him last night,” he said.

Jonquil blushed a little.

“I didn’t. But it just goes to show that one should never judge on first impressions. He was
charming
this evening.”

There was some surprise at the emphasis that she gave the remark, but Jason only smiled at her with a slightly mocking smile.

“You must have made quite an impression,” he said carelessly.

Jonquil hastily ate the remains of her pudding. Why did Jason have to be so nasty? she wondered. Giving the impression that she had gone out of her way to attract Edward Keeving, when she had done nothing of the sort! Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

“And who might Edward Keeving be?” Mrs. Tate asked sourly. “He appears to be a man of good taste, which is more than I can say for my own nephew!”

Jonquil’s face burned. If she only knew! But Jason remained quite calm and Yoshiko had apparently not noticed that the remark was directed against her.

“Very good taste,” Harvey Buckmaster agreed, with a smile that put Jonquil a little more at her ease.

“Which is more than I can say for my charming aunt,” Janet Buckmaster teased Mrs. Tate gently in an undertone. The old lady smiled reluctantly.

“Are we go
ing to spend all evening over this meal? she asked impatiently. “I'm tired and I expect Jonquil is too. She can come with me to my room.
”

It was a little hard to be removed so early, Jonquil thought, but she obediently got up and accompanied Mrs. Tate from the room, happy that her goodnights should have been so warmly received. She liked the family immensely—except for Jason. She didn’t
like
him at all! But that way her thoughts led her into danger. She would not allow him to make her unhappy. In fact she wasn’t going to allow him even to spoil her pleasure in his family. He could go and play with Yoshiko and she wouldn’t care one bit! Well, not very much anyway.

Mrs. Tate wheeled herself along the corridors at a speed
born
of long practice, judging the corners nicely, so that she just skimmed round them, with Jonquil in full flight behind her.

“Open the door, my dear,” she commanded regally, when they had reached her room. “Hmph! Nice to see a girl opening a door like a human being, instead of going on her knees like an animal
!
” She caught Jonquil’s surprised look. “I can see your acquaintance with Japanese manners is rudimentary!” she remarked dryly.

“It’s non-existent,” Jonquil confessed.

“Good!” the old lady chuckled. “Couldn’t be better. Come in and sit down, my dear. I want to talk to you.”

Mrs. Tate wheeled her chair over to the window and sat for a moment staring out at the moonlit garden.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said at last.

“It’s all that I ever imagined,” Jonquil confessed. “We do our best at home, but I’ve never
seen anything like the gardens they seem to have here. They make me want to weep. Silly.
”

The old lady looked at her sharply.

“Not silly at all,” she retorted. “Merely shows that you have feelings. The sort of feeling that every woman ought to have.”

This was a point of view that had been presented to Jonquil too often for her to feel any surprise, so she waited in silence for the old lady to go on. When she did, she could only gasp
in
surprise.

“I suppose you and Jason had some silly quarrel
.
” Mrs. Tate said sharply. “You ought to have more sense. Especially”—and her voice changed —“as he’s in danger and may very well need your help.”

“My help?” Jonquil asked weakly.

“What’s this Edward Keeving to you?” Mrs. Tate demanded.

“Nothing. I don’t know him well. I only met
him yesterday.”

“Quite. Does he know Mitchi Boko?
”

“Yes; yes, I think he does.”

“Do you?”

“Not really. I met her on the plane to Manila. She was frightened when we went through a thunderstorm and I went and sat beside her.
”

The old lady’s bright eyes watched her carefully.

“What did you think of her?” she asked.

Jonquil swallowed.

“I thought she was quite lovely,” she said distractedly. What if Jason really was
in
danger? Her heart thumped uncomfortably. Why should he be? Because of his job? Her eyes widened as she gazed at Mrs. Tate.

“So did I,” the old lady agreed. “Quite lovely. And very, very dangerous.”

Jonquil almost blurted out that that was exactly what Jason had said, but something deep down inside prevented her. “Why do you think Jason’s in danger?” she asked instead.

The old lady’s eyes snapped with amusement. ‘So you are interested,” she said. “
J
ason too, I notice!” She chuckled in quite a kindly way. “I thought you were, and it’s always nice to be proven right.”

“Did you ask me in to find
—
”

“No, I did not,” Mrs. Tate denied before she could finish. “I asked you in because I wanted your help. My nephew is one of the cleverest men I know, and so it goes without saying that he is also very stupid. Everyone knows that he has discovered something very important. Why else would Harvey pick this moment to go to America? He hates the winter in New York as much as the next man. What it is, of course I don’t know, and I don’t want to. But what I do want to know is who all these strange people are who are suddenly scraping up acquaintance with my nephew. People like Mitchi Boko—and, possibly, Edward Keeving!”

“But what do you want me to do?” Jonquil asked, feeling rather as though she had fallen down the rabbit’s hole with Alice.

“I want you to find out for me,” the old lady said calmly. “I can’t get about, but there’s nothing to stop you getting to know these people.
”

“But
—
”

“You’re tired. Tell me your objections in the morning. Oh—and shut the door when you go out
,
will you? I hate draughts!”

Jonquil crept out, looking up and down the corridor as she went. It was silly, but Mrs. Tate’s fears were catching. In fact she could have sworn that she just caught sight of a skirt sweeping round the far corner. A yellow skirt, such as the one worn earlier by Yoshiko. Was it possible that she could have been listening at the door? Jonquil shook herself, chiding herself for letting her imagination run away with her. But it was odd, for nobody but Mrs. Tate slept at that end of the house.