by Yangsze Choo
“Sometimes I dream about a river,” I said slowly. “There’s a train and a small boy who’s waiting for me.”
“That’s funny, I dream about a river, too.”
“Is it always the same? Mine is—night after night, like a dream that continues; a story that unfolds.”
“A story that unfolds.” He seemed struck by this. “What a poetic way of putting it.”
“What happens in your dream?” I was treading carefully here, feeling my way. I’d done this dozens of times at the May Flower. They said they wanted to dance but they really just wanted to talk about themselves.
“In my dream, I see someone standing in the river. She’s always there. And she always says the same thing.”
I shivered, recalling Yi’s red, impassioned face, his guilty confession of luring Ren over. “Does she ask you to come to her?”
“No. She’s very angry with me.” A ghost of a smile. “And that’s why,” he added under his breath, “I write letters instead.”
“Who is she?”
But the spell had broken. Acton laughed uneasily. “I must be boring you.”
“Not at all,” I said hastily. “It’s very interesting.”
He gave me a sharp look. “You don’t talk like most local girls.”
No, I talk like a dance hostess. But of course I didn’t say so. The whole point of spinning out conversations like this was to run up a tab. Or, in this case, find out more information.
A spark was burning in Acton’s eye now, a little flame that made me nervous. “You’re a very interesting girl, Louise. Seems like fate, doesn’t it, how we keep running into each other?”
We’d arrived at the hospital now and he’d parked the car, but he made no move to get out. Abruptly, I remembered Hui’s warning: don’t get into cars with men.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, tugging at the door. The handle was different from Robert’s car, and for an instant, it stuck. I had a panicky moment when Acton leaned across me, but he was only helping to open it. Or was he? His hand brushed my knee. There were no bouncers here, no Kiong with his watchful eye, and I felt a spasm of fear. If he pinned me down, I wouldn’t be able to get away. I yanked hard on the door and almost fell out.
“Are you all right?” he said. And then it was sunny again, a bright innocuous day, and I looked ridiculous, half falling out of the car. I told myself I must have imagined that sudden predatory feeling as I stared at his hands. Clever, surgeon’s hands. They would have a viselike grip.
“William?” It was a woman’s voice. The tall, fair lady from Saturday’s party. She was standing under the eaves of the hospital as though she was waiting to be picked up, and now came over, her quick steps shod in patent leather sandals. White ones, in a style I’d never seen locally. I struggled up, red-faced and smoothing down my dress, hoping she didn’t remember me from the party, but her sharp glance told me that she did.
Acton turned a blandly affable face to her. “Hello, Lydia. Didn’t know you were in today.”
Gone was the guilty distraction he’d betrayed earlier, and I realized it was because a local girl like me didn’t matter. Lydia, however, was different. She was one of his own.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, preparing to slip off. I nodded politely at Lydia—it didn’t seem right to ignore her although she was doing her best to pretend I didn’t exist—but Acton said, “Hold up. I’ll take you into the ward.”
It was no use protesting I could find my own way. He was too quick, explaining to Lydia, “She’s here to visit Ren. My houseboy, you know.”
“Is that so?” Her expression softened. “Poor boy. How is he?”
“Not well. He’s in an adult ward. Ran out of beds in the children’s ward.”
“Oh, that’s why I didn’t see him earlier when I went around with the lending library.” She turned stiffly to me. “Are you related to him?”
I nodded. It was too difficult to explain the fierce protectiveness I felt towards Ren.
“William, we must talk,” Lydia said in an undertone.
He glanced at his watch, suddenly busy. “Now’s not really a good time. I’m due on the wards.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’d like to visit your houseboy as well.”
I trailed after them as he shot me a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. Yi had said to be careful, that the fifth one was the worst of us all. What did Acton want from me?
34
Batu Gajah
Friday, June 26th
It’s Friday, but Ren has no sense of where the time has gone. He’s been ill, though ill isn’t the right word for the way he feels. More like damaged or broken. Some of the bandages have come off, including the bulky one on his left hand. The one that’s now missing a finger. The nurses didn’t want to tell him that, hemming and hawing and eventually roping a local doctor in to say those simple words to him. As if it makes any difference.
Ren longs, suddenly and inexplicably, for Dr. MacFarlane. His shaggy eyebrows, the raspy voice. He would have explained it, clearly and unsentimentally. Better to lose a finger than the whole hand. Or your life. What is it that he needs to remember about Dr. MacFarlane? An invisible counter in his brain hisses there are only two days left to keep his promise, but Ren is tired, so terribly weary that he can barely keep his eyes open. The nurses take his temperature and talk over him in hushed voices. William has been coming by twice a day.
“You’ve had a shock,” he says jovially, though his eyes are grim. “Sometimes the body needs a bit of time.”
“Did they find her?” That gnawing unease again.
“You mean Nandani? Don’t worry, she made it home that night.”
Ren shakes his head feebly. “No, she’s still wandering. Somewhere out there.”
A strained expression appears on William’s face. Abruptly, he takes the nurse aside to discuss something, warning her with a shake of his head before he leaves the ward. A low fever runs through Ren’s veins. There’s another place he urgently needs to go to, though he can never remember where it is until he’s actually asleep. He has the feeling that he’s in the middle of a journey; everything else is an interruption.
* * *
Waking, a painful sensation. The nurse takes his temperature and looks unhappy. With an effort, Ren flexes his left arm, still encased in dressings, and wonders whether he’ll still be able to work: shine shoes and iron shirts and make omelets. What if William doesn’t want him anymore? There are so many other boys who need jobs—older, stronger boys with ten fingers. Ren wishes there was someone to talk to, but the ward is empty, the other beds like white cocoons.
One of the nurses said that Ah Long came by yesterday when Ren was asleep and left a tiffin carrier of sweet red-bean soup that Ren likes so much. Did Ah Long manage to clean the whole house by himself after the party? Ren’s eyes are dry. His bones ache. Time to go, he thinks. But where?
Voices in the corridor. It’s William again, making his second visit of the day. And behind him, someone else. That buzzing thrill that he can’t forget. Ren struggles up. She’s here! The girl from the party. Down the long, whitewashed corridor, he senses her approach. His cat sense flickers, the dullness around him burns away. But she’s slowing, falling back. Why?
William enters the ward. Smiling, pleased to see Ren sitting up for once. “I’ve brought you a visitor.”
But the person who peeks out from behind William isn’t Ren’s girl in blue, but Lydia. “Hello!” she says, in that overenthusiastic tone that people who aren’t comfortable with children adopt. “I’ve brought you some books.”
She wheels in a lending trolley of books and magazines, and Ren immediately feels guilty for misjudging her. “I went by the children’s ward this morning, but I’d no idea that you were all the way over here.”
William looks at Ren’s chart and examines his dressings. Ren’s eyes stray to the book cart. Lydia picks out an alphabet book with a Ladybird logo on it. “How’s this?” she s
ays.
Ren opens it to A stands for Ambulance Train. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to hide his disappointment.
“Give him a different one, Lydia,” says William quietly. “He can read quite well.”
“Oh!” Lydia colors. “Well, we’re a bit low today.”
Ren feels sorry for her, being chided like this. Yet the hopeful shine in her eyes says she doesn’t mind. She hands over a book with a girl’s name, Jane Eye or something like that. Who’s Jane and what’s wrong with her eye? Ren thinks. There’s another one, a slim volume that slips out. Heart of Darkness. But Lydia seizes it swiftly, “Oh no, dear. Not that one.”
But Ren catches that electric tingle. It’s moving again, coming to the doorway. His girl from the party, her gaze serious, searching for Ren. And when she sees him, her face lights up.
* * *
Ren is happy. Very happy. She sits next to him, not wearing blue today, but a crisp white cotton dress. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she says, pouring a glass of water for him. William and Lydia are down at the other end of the empty ward, Lydia ostensibly recataloging the books in her cart. Ren catches brief snatches of their conversation. But it doesn’t concern him, because Ji Lin is sitting on the chair next to his bed, smiling at him.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
Ren wants to reassure her that he is much, much better, but a numbing weakness grips him. He gasps, soundlessly. Ji Lin stares at his ashen face in consternation.
“You don’t look well. Shall I get the nurse?”
No, he doesn’t want her to leave, but he can feel it dropping, that blurry grey veil that paralyzes and drifts him away. Back to that other place where he hasn’t finished his task. Alarmed, Ji Lin glances at William and Lydia, deep in conversation at the other end of the ward. The tension in William’s shoulders forbids interruption.
“I’ll get the Sister,” Ji Lin says, jumping up in her quick, boyish way. In the far corner of the ward, William’s head jerks, surprised at her sudden exit.
Lydia tilts her face closer to his. They look nice together, standing by the window. Her mouth moves. What is she saying, that makes William’s expression go hard, his mouth a thin line?
“—know about Iris,” she says.
That’s the name of the lady that William is always writing letters to. Those cream-colored letters on thick, soft paper that dents when you press a fingernail into it. William doesn’t look happy.
“Let’s not talk about this now,” he says, turning away.
“Then when?” She’s following him, careless about being overheard now since it’s only Ren left in the ward. “We’re the same, you and I,” she says. Her eyes glisten, though whether it’s with tears or some other emotion, Ren can’t say. “I want to help. Please, let me help.”
William gives her a forced smile. “I need to go.”
Lydia stares after his retreating back. A breeze through the open windows makes the white curtains flutter; it’s so quiet that you can hear the clock in the corridor ticking. Awkwardly, Lydia wheels her book trolley back between the empty beds. She pauses at Ren’s bed as if she wants to question him, but at that moment Ji Lin returns. She looks troubled, her eyes downcast.
Lydia gives her a long, sideways glance. “You’re Louise, aren’t you?” she says.
A brief pause. “Yes.”
“I was wondering how you knew Mr. Acton.”
“I don’t know him. He just happened to be passing the station this morning and gave me a ride.”
Lydia doesn’t seem quite satisfied with this answer and asks several more questions. Where she works, what her family does, how old she is. Ji Lin is polite but guarded.
“May I ask why you want to know?”
Dazed, Ren stares weakly at their two profiles. One with fair, curling hair, the other with cropped dark bangs.
“I was just curious about your … job. Whether you had any troubles or needed help.” At the word troubles, Lydia’s eyes sharpen with concern. But Ji Lin is careful, saying only that she works part-time at a dance hall, and it’s all right.
Lydia studies her for a moment. “Well, let me know if you ever need a friendly ear. I’m interested in helping local girls find jobs, so they can better themselves. There are so many jobs that girls can do nowadays, if men would only let them.”
“Thank you.” Her words touch a chord, for Ji Lin’s dark eyes go soft and she looks genuinely touched. “That’s very kind of you.”
“We women must stick together—in fact, I teach health classes to the girls on the rubber estates.”
“What sort of classes?” Ji Lin looks interested.
“Well, mostly basic healthcare, feminine needs.” An understanding look passes between them. “If you need any supplies, let me know. It’s one of the ways I can do some good stuck out here. By the way,” Lydia lowers her voice, “be careful around Mr. Acton.”
“Why?”
“He’s—well, odd things happen around him. Have you noticed?”
A curious expression appears on Ji Lin’s face. “What sort of things?”
“Those who get involved with him tend to be unlucky. Especially young women.”
* * *
William inhales sharply. His stomach hurts, leaning over the white porcelain sink in the washroom, both hands gripping its slippery surface. A burning, twisting sensation. He lifts his pale, sweaty face, staring at the mirror.
So, Lydia knows about Iris. He should have seen it coming. Had, in fact, been struck by their resemblance. It doesn’t matter whether they’re second or third cousins once removed, or whatever Lydia said. He’d been too taken aback to pay attention.
And now, what should he do? What does Lydia want? It will be trouble. Lydia, with her bossy, well-meaning attitude. She’s exactly what he hates. William wipes his mouth. Before they meet again, he must uncover every bit of information that he can about her: whatever secret from her past that’s exiled her in Malaya for more than a year with no husband, no job, and nothing to do besides play tennis at the Club and volunteer. Know thy enemy, he thinks.
And then, in a spasm of furious anguish, he wishes Lydia would just disappear.
35
Batu Gajah
Friday, June 26th
In a few short days, Ren had lost a shocking amount of weight. Hollow cheeks, blue veins showing through papery skin. A faint, hoarse voice, as though every word was a struggle. But he looked happy to see me.
“About the finger you gave me,” I said hesitantly, when Lydia had gone. I didn’t want to bring it up but was afraid he’d be worried about it. “I kept it for you.”
A spasm passed over his face. A look of alarm, or was it urgency? “Two days left,” he whispered. “Put it back. In his grave.”
I bent over, trying to catch his words. There was a grey, glazed look on his face.
“What do you mean?” I asked, but he didn’t hear me. Ren’s eyes had closed. There was nothing but his frail light body, the husk of a grasshopper, left behind in the bed. For an instant, I was terrified that he’d died. I touched his hand. Cold, yet the narrow chest rose and fell unevenly. The nurse had said that Ren wasn’t doing well, though they couldn’t find a cause and I’d best not tire him. She was right; there was something very wrong with him.
“Are you a relative?” she’d asked.
“No. Why?” I said anxiously.
Her eyes darted past me uncomfortably. “Well, if you know any of his relatives, tell them to come and visit. Soon.”
* * *
I left the ward with a sinking feeling. There were still so many questions that I had for Ren: how the finger had ended up buried in the garden and why he’d wanted me to put it into a grave. Unsettling thoughts, moving like shapes underwater. I’d asked the nurse whether Pei Ling had recovered from her fall yet, and she’d shaken her head. She hadn’t regained consciousness. The nurse gave me an odd look, as if wondering why I was connected to all these unfortunate people.
Afterno
on was waning, and people were beginning to leave. I couldn’t shake Lydia’s strained warning out of my head. What had she meant by telling me to stay away from William Acton? The way she’d lowered her voice as though afraid of being overheard made me wonder what she was worried about. She’d mentioned luck as well, which reminded me of the salesman. When people talked about being lucky, perhaps they simply wanted to feel powerful, as though they could manipulate fate. Like the gamblers who were obsessed with lucky numbers, or bought lottery tickets according to the number of colored scales on fish. It all seemed like a bad idea to me.
Turning a corner, I recognized the spot outside the cafeteria where I’d last spoken to Pei Ling. If I kept following this walkway down the hill, I’d pass the place where she’d had that disastrous fall. Here. She’d fallen from the stairs and landed quite a distance from the bottom. The sturdy handrail on each side of the narrow stairway reminded me of Shin’s observation. If she’d stumbled, it was odd that she hadn’t managed to break her fall. She might well have been pushed.
I glanced up, alerted by a sudden movement. A dark head had poked over the top of the stairs, but the late afternoon sun was in my eyes. There was a flash of white uniform, and for an instant, I thought it might be Shin, come to find me with his long stride. But whoever it was disappeared. Time to get going. The shaded walkways were empty as I cut round the side of the hospital. Passing the familiar door to the pathology storeroom, I paused. What if the finger from the salesman was still there, and the one that Ren had handed me was a doppelgänger, born like a worm, from the dark earth he’d dug it out of? It was such a disturbing thought that I felt I must see for myself. I tried the handle. Unexpectedly, it turned.
Inside, all was much as Shin and I had left it. I dragged the step stool over to the specimen shelf. Reaching up, past a kidney, then the jar with the two-headed rat. I peered behind. Nothing. The space where the small bottle had stood, containing a dried and blackened finger, was empty. So it hadn’t multiplied itself like a nightmare. Thank goodness. I was about to step down when the door opened.
