The Night Tiger

by Yangsze Choo

  When Shin returned, he was back to normal. His dark hair was sleek with water and my yellow dress, which I’d hung to dry last night, was on his arm. “Trade your dress for that shirt,” he said, jokingly.

  “What about your shirt from last night? Isn’t it dry?”

  “I want the one you’re wearing.”

  I turned red, and surprisingly, so did Shin. I went into the bathroom, changed, and gave him the new men’s shirt I’d been wearing, now sadly crumpled since I’d slept in it. After that, not knowing what to say, we went down and checked out of the hotel. The same clerk was there and she gave us a look.

  “There was some noise from your room last night.”

  “Yes,” said Shin. “I fell off the bed.”

  She pursed her mouth, and I had to stifle the hysterical urge to giggle, squeezing Shin’s hand instead. And so we left Taiping, that rainy, romantic little town between the limestone hills. One day, I thought, I’d like to come back with Shin. And do everything properly.

  * * *

  I was headed to Falim, since I wanted to check on my mother. Shin would go on to Batu Gajah for his shift at the hospital. “Be careful when you go home,” he said. We’d held hands secretly all the way on the train; it wasn’t proper to display physical affection in public, but when no one was looking, Shin had sneaked a couple of kisses. I was so happy that I must have been grinning like an idiot, and Shin wasn’t much better.

  “I can keep a secret,” I said.

  In answer, Shin put his lips against my ear. “See?” he murmured. “You’re all flustered now.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. Recalling how Shin had said, I’ll make you mine, I wondered if all men had this power over women. Whether by laying hands on us, by caresses and sweet words, they could bend us to their will. I didn’t like that idea. But no, Robert had kissed me before and the results had been disastrous.

  “Shin,” I said slowly. “Do you have another girl?”

  “No.”

  “Then whose ring is this?”

  “It’s yours. Didn’t I give it to you?”

  I was dumbfounded. Certainly, he’d handed it to me in front of Matron, but I’d assumed he was just playing along. Shin looked sheepish. “I meant to do it in a better way—not like that.”

  “I thought you had a girlfriend in Singapore. Koh Beng said so.”

  “That’s because when I’m in Singapore, I say I’ve a girl back in Ipoh, and vice versa. Otherwise it’s troublesome. People ask if I’m available, or try to set me up. But it’s always been you.”

  I felt giddy. “You bought a ring for me?”

  In answer, he kissed the palm of my hand. “I thought I might as well go for it. Especially since Ming got engaged.”

  “But it doesn’t fit.”

  “The way you eat, I thought you’d be fatter by now.”

  Shin twined his fingers through mine and I burst out laughing. It seemed wrong to be so happy. I thought of the look on Ren’s face, the delight as though he’d been waiting all his life for me, and a shadow fell upon me. “I’m worried about Ren. Will you look out for him, and also Pei Ling? Find out if she’s recovered from her fall.”

  At Ipoh Station, I lingered, not wanting to leave him. Shin said, “You’d better go. Otherwise I’ll end up getting out with you.” Not caring if other people saw us, he kissed me hard against the doorway of the train. Then he went back to his seat. I put my hand against the glass of the window; he placed his on the other side. I stared at Shin’s ring that glinted on my own middle finger. The ghost finger or jari hantu, as Koh Beng had called it. Shin tapped on the glass. Startled, I met his eyes. He shook his head. Go! And so, with a last glance, I went.

  * * *

  By the time I got to Falim, it was nearly noon and the sun’s white glare made me squint. I walked the last bit home in a daze. The interior of the shophouse was dark and cool, and it took me a few seconds to realize that Robert was standing there. With my mother and stepfather.

  I froze. I’d meant to slip quietly in, not walk into a committee meeting.

  “Where have you been, Ji Lin?” My mother’s anxious eyes took in my canary yellow frock, which unfortunately looked more like a party dress than ever.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” I forced myself to speak coolly, though the pulse was hammering in my neck. How much had Robert told them?

  “Robert said he couldn’t find you at Mrs. Tham’s.”

  So. Not that much after all. I stole a look at him. He had a disheveled, agitated air, as though he, not I, was the one who’d spent the night away from home. My stepfather said nothing, but his long, silent stare gave me the most anxiety.

  “I was out with my friend Hui. You remember her, don’t you?”

  My mother had never met Hui; I prayed desperately she’d pick up on my silent plea. Her eyes cut sideways to my stepfather and amazingly, she said, “Oh, that’s right. I should have thought of that. Well, I’ll go and start lunch then.”

  With this and other excuses, she managed to remove both herself and my stepfather, though not before he fixed me with a slit-eyed gaze.

  As soon as they were gone, Robert said, “I want to talk to you.”

  I didn’t like the insistence in his eyes, but there was nothing for it but to go on a little walk with him, away from the shophouse. We trudged along in silence, the noonday sun burning down on our heads. I felt dizzy and thirsty, my chest tight with dread.

  “How long have you been working there?” he said at last.

  “A few months.”

  “I asked around,” he said awkwardly. “It’s a fairly decent dance hall, but it’s not a good job. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Of course I knew it, though Robert proceeded to give me a long-winded lecture. I wished desperately that he’d go away, back to his world of servants and cars and trips to Europe, but I couldn’t afford to antagonize him, either.

  “Look,” I said at last. “What do you think I do at the May Flower?”

  “You dance with men. For money.” He wouldn’t meet my eye, and I realized he was busy imagining all sorts of other, unspoken things.

  “Yes. I’m a … dance instructor,” I said. “And I’m there two afternoons a week. But I don’t do call-outs, though I’d probably make more money that way.”

  Robert didn’t bat an eye at this talk about call-outs, and I realized with a faint feeling of surprise that he was familiar with the term. Perhaps he’d even gone on a few himself.

  “Do you need money?”

  Shin’s voice rang in my head—don’t ask him for anything—so I said, “That’s my business. Besides, I’m not working there anymore.”

  He chewed his lip. “Let me help you, Ji Lin. After all, you stopped Shin from hitting me yesterday.”

  “I didn’t want him to get into trouble,” I said, but Robert wouldn’t take the hint.

  “I was shocked he got violent. Are you all right?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to remind Robert that he’d practically called me a whore in front of Shin, but I bit down hard instead. “I’m fine. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to change.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw Robert’s dawning recognition that I was still wearing the same dress as yesterday. I felt like kicking myself; I’d led him right into it.

  “Were you with Shin last night? Where did the two of you go yesterday?”

  Dangerous. “I already said I went to my friend’s.”

  I turned back, but Robert had something over me now; if my stepfather found out where I’d been working, who knew what might happen? “I think it’s best if we don’t see each other,” I said as politely as I could. “Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

  “But I want to,” he said, following closely. “You need help.”

  I walked faster, itching to get away. With despair, I realized that he saw himself as my savior. Someone who’d rescue me from my unfortunate choices, my violent broth
er. It would have been funny if it weren’t so awful. Robert seized my elbow. I froze. We were standing in the street and there were bicycles and people passing. Surely he wouldn’t try anything here. I must have looked alarmed, because he dropped his hand uncomfortably.

  “I only have your best interests in mind,” he said.

  Finally, after delivering yet another stumbling lecture about the danger of poor choices and how I ought to be more careful as a young woman, he left. But my troubles weren’t over.

  * * *

  When I got back, I heard raised voices coming from the family room on the second floor. Anxious, I raced upstairs as my stepfather came down. He didn’t look at me, just brushed past furiously. My mother was sitting in a rattan armchair in the family room, her eyes closed. Hands pressed against her temples.

  “What happened?” I studied her worriedly for visible injuries but couldn’t see anything amiss. “Was it something I did?”

  “No, no.” She gave me a weak smile. Then dropping her voice, “But really, where did you go last night, Ji Lin?”

  For a brief moment, I considered coming clean about Shin and how we felt about each other, but something warned me not to. “I told you, I stayed with my friend Hui,” I said. “Don’t you remember, the fashionable one?”

  I’d mentioned Hui to my mother before, thinking she’d be interested in her clothes and style, but my mother didn’t take the bait. She simply nodded, eyes wary. If only Robert hadn’t alerted them! The fact that I’d returned from some unknown destination dressed in this frivolous, clinging yellow dress had made everything even more suspicious. But this was the dress that Shin had kissed me in. That he’d said he liked. For that reason alone, it would be my favorite dress forever, although I couldn’t look at it without guilt. I always felt guilty around my mother; it was her very meekness and soft reproach that undid me.

  “Are you and Robert all right?”

  “We won’t be seeing much of each other anymore.” The sooner I set that expectation, the better.

  “Why? He’s such a nice boy.”

  “We’re not suited.” Looking at her distressed face, I added, “Please don’t say any more.”

  “Is it because of Shin?”

  I froze. “What does he have to do with it?”

  “It’s just that Shin doesn’t like Robert for some reason.”

  “Shin doesn’t like anyone,” I said lightly.

  “No, he likes Ming. And you. I’m glad that you have a brother now, even if the two of you argue. Family is really important. You’ll find out when you get older.”

  She fell silent, and I wondered if she was recalling her miscarriages, those children who had never come into being. And I shuddered, thinking of Yi. Was he still patiently sitting at that railway station in the land of the dead, waiting for his twin to die?

  “Mother,” I said slowly, wondering if I was making a terrible mistake, “I have something to tell you.”

  45

  Batu Gajah

  Monday, June 29th

  Disaster blows through the wards like an ill wind, bringing news of yet another freak accident. Death is no stranger in this hospital; it walks the halls every day, picking off the old and infirm. But coming so hard on the heels of Pei Ling’s death, it lends a nasty chill to the whispers of the staff.

  There’s a vengeful ghost in the hospital, they say. Pei Ling fell down the stairs because she saw it. And that orderly, Y. K. Wong, was killed by a falling tile this very morning, because he saw the ghost walking on the roof of the hospital.

  “Why on the roof?” asks Ren. He’ll be discharged today. It’s amazing how quickly he’s recovered, says the local doctor who examines him. Absolutely astonishing, the change from one day to the next, but that’s the way of children.

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about.” Dr. Chin, the same man who informed Ren so awkwardly about the loss of his finger, frowns at a white patch of skin on Ren’s elbow. It’s exactly where the pale nurse, Pei Ling, grasped his elbow in that burning, dreamlike world. When Ren puts the fingers of his right hand in the same spot, it tingles. His cat sense grows stronger, as though he’s opened a door to a twilit road. And outside, there are many chill white creatures. Ren thinks of the pontianak and other tales of angry lost women who come in the night, shrouded with their long black hair. You mustn’t let them in, not ever, even if they scratch at the door with their long nails and call to you with sweet plaintive voices, promising knowledge and secrets. Though what if you went outside, just for a little bit, to talk to them?

  The doctor palpates the elbow, but Ren feels no pain, just numbness. The mark looks uncannily like the grasp of a ghostly hand. “I could have sworn this wasn’t here before,” he mutters. Ren is silent. He understands that this is the price he must pay for abandoning Pei Ling on that train.

  “Anyway, you’ll be discharged today.”

  Most likely William will take him back at the end of the day. At least, that’s what Ren thinks.

  Dr. Chin gives him a curious glance. “Better check that he didn’t go home early. I heard he was first on the … scene this morning.”

  The nurse says, “No, he’s working.” A look passes between them.

  “And Miss Lydia?”

  At that moment, Lydia herself appears in the open ward doorway. There’s no color in her lips and her hair is flattened on one side as though she’s been resting in an office, which indeed she has.

  “Did you want me?” she says, hearing her name. “Need any help?”

  “Oh! I heard you were there when the accident happened,” the nurse says to her. “It must have been horrible.”

  “Yes. My father’s coming to pick me up soon. I’m not quite up to driving myself,” she says with a grimace. There are sympathetic, half-admiring nods at her foreign fortitude. Someone has draped a light, cotton shawl over her shoulders, but it doesn’t hide the thin splatter of red brown on her blouse. Ren stares at it, cat sense tingling. Death covers her blouse, speckles her skirt, and he feels dizzy with horror. Yet despite her pallid face, Lydia is full of nervous energy.

  She comes and sits down next to Ren. “Goodness, you look so much better!”

  “Yes.” He drops his eyes. Does nobody else see the blood on her? But it is very little, just a few splashes. To Ren’s invisible feelers, however, a sticky grey web clings to her. He doesn’t know what it means, only that he shrinks from her awkward friendliness. Is it bravery or something else that narrows the pupils of her eyes—fear or excitement?

  “I meant to pass this to you,” says Lydia, taking something out of her purse. “Will you be seeing your friend Louise again?”

  Ren is momentarily confused—who’s Louise? Then he remembers it’s the other name for his girl in blue. Not knowing what to say, he nods.

  “Could you give this to her?”

  Ren flinches. It’s a small glass bottle. The same kind that the withered finger came in, except this one is filled with a tea-colored liquid. Of course, this is a hospital, and Lydia volunteers here. It isn’t surprising that she’d have the same kind of container.

  “What is it?”

  “Stomach medicine I promised her last time,” she says.

  Ren recalls the conversation between Lydia and Ji Lin, something about women being troubled once a month and how unfair it is. Obediently, he pockets the bottle, then recalls Dr. MacFarlane’s rules for medication. “Should I label it with a dosage?”

  “Just tell her to take all of it if she has a stomachache. It’s a mild tonic; I take it myself. But don’t mention it to anyone else—it might embarrass her.” Smiling, she gets up to go.

  Ren stares after her, wondering how nobody else senses the pall that clings to Lydia’s retreating back. It’s like an invisible shroud or cocoon, those fine filaments spun out of nothing. Lydia has apparently cheated death this morning. But from the looks of it, she’s not unscathed.

  46

  Falim

  Sunday, June 28th

&nb
sp; My mother’s face, already haggard, turned even paler when I told her. She closed her eyes for a long moment.

  “But I was only dancing. Really. I never did anything else.”

  I’d decided to confess my dance-hall work since Robert might spill the beans at any moment. There was nothing I could do about my stepfather’s reaction, but it was better if she, at least, were prepared.

  “So if you hear anything from other people, you mustn’t be shocked. Though there’s a good chance it will never come up.” I spoke with false confidence. “And Mrs. Tham, of course, doesn’t know.”

  I was afraid that she’d start berating me for making such a stupid decision, but she only looked sad. “Was it to help pay off my debt?”

  I hesitated, but there was no point denying it. “I’ve quit already. So you don’t have to worry.”

  Her face twisted. “It was wrong of me to involve you—you mustn’t do things like this anymore. I’ll tell your stepfather about the money.”

  “He’ll be furious! Besides, Shin said he’d help.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about it. It’s not your burden.” She bit her lip. “Is that why Robert won’t be coming—because he found out?”

  “No. I’m the one who doesn’t want to see him.”

  “But why? He’s a good man, Ji Lin, if in spite of all that—”

  “It’s not right, since I don’t care for him.”

  “You could learn!” She stopped, realizing that she’d raised her voice. Then low and insistent. “Don’t miss this chance, Ji Lin. It will make a huge difference—you’ll regret it the rest of your life if you let him go!”