Tiger, Tiger

by Philip Caveney

  “You’ve got to remember,” retorted Melissa firmly, “it must be over ten years since Uncle Harry was involved in anything like that. Memories fade with time. The whole thing was done just to discredit you, that’s all.”

  He gazed at her for a moment.

  “You really think so, Melissa?”

  She smiled, nodded.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  Bob reached out a hand impulsively to stroke her arm. She stared at it oddly for a moment, but made no attempt to pull away from his touch. She felt excited and oddly flattered by the gesture.

  “How old are you, Melissa?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “Eighteen.”

  He smiled wickedly. “You’re quite legal then,” he observed, with a dry little chuckle; and she felt her face colour dramatically. “It’s the best age,” continued Bob easily. “This is your estate on the left here, isn’t it?”

  “What? Oh … yes…” She had momentarily forgotten where she was. “My house is over the back there.…” But he was already easing the Land Rover to a halt on the outskirts of the estate. The light was fading rapidly and there was nobody about. Bob glanced meaningfully at Melissa for a moment, then switched the ignition off. The two of them sat for a few moments, abruptly awkward in the silence. Now that the glib talk was over, there was a tenseness between them, and Melissa felt the old mingling of anticipation and fear come flooding back to her. She wanted something to happen, but she was not sure what. All the confident scenes of her fantasies evaporated like steam and she was left tongue-tied, fidgety, and hoping desperately that he would take the initiative and say something. When at last he did speak, it was an inanity.

  “So, er … this is where you live,” he muttered, and he glanced mechanically about as though inspecting the place.

  “Yes, this is it,” agreed Melissa. “The most boring estate in Malaya! I keep waiting for something to happen, but it never does.…”

  “Well, what about these lessons then?” asked Bob, with a renewed sense of urgency.

  She stared at him.

  “Lessons?”

  “Yeah … the shooting lessons, remember? I could get in touch with the lads at the barracks, find out when we could use the range.…”

  “Oh yes, of course. It would be great to be able to shoot. Of course, I don’t expect I’d ever be as good as you.”

  Bob considered the statement for a few moments.

  “No,” he replied bluntly. “I don’t expect you would.” He laughed and there was a trace of mockery in his voice that flustered her. She lowered her head, glanced at her wristwatch. “Well I … I suppose I ought to be—”

  She broke off in surprise as he edged suddenly and decisively against her. His arms came around her in a powerful embrace and his mouth was against hers. She resisted only for an instant, a token display of indignation; then she relaxed and returned his kisses, allowing him to push her back against the seat. The experience of kissing a mature male was new to her and oddly exciting. The rough stubble of his cheeks was like fine sandpaper against her skin and his body smelled of a mysterious mingling of tobacco and perspiration. But somehow, here in the cramped confines of the Land Rover, it was not as she had imagined the scene. His kisses became more hungry, his tongue exploring her mouth with increased confidence; and then his hands were caressing her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse. She allowed this to continue for a few moments, but she was nervous at being so near to the estate and when his hands attempted to move upward beneath her skirt, she pushed him away and sat up again, glancing quickly this way and that.

  “What’s the matter?” he gasped. His voice was now coarse with desire.

  “Not here,” she whispered breathlessly. “I’ll meet you somewhere else, another time … somewhere where we can be alone.…” She reached out and stroked his face reassuringly. He took hold of her arms and tried to push her down but she shook her head.

  “Somebody might see us,” she pleaded and he frowned, nodded.

  “When then?” he said simply. There was a trace of irritation in his voice, and she feared that she might have offended him.

  “Tomorrow.… I’ll go to the Chinese Swimming Club with some friends. Can you meet me there?”

  “I’ve got classes in the morning, but I could get there at two o’clock.”

  “That would be fine. You could offer me a lift home and we’ll go somewhere off by ourselves.…” She hesitated, embarrassed by her own boldness. “That is, if you want to.”

  “Of course I do!” He gave her a fierce glare, then reached out and stroked her leg with a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes promised excitement, but there was a familiarity in the gesture that worried her. “We’ll have a great time,” he promised her. “You’ll see.”

  She nodded. “I’d better go in now,” she concluded. She reached forward, kissed him briefly, and then pulled away, as once again he tried to embrace her.

  “Tomorrow,” she assured him; and she clambered out of the Land Rover. “You … will be there, won’t you?” she murmured.

  “Try and stop me!” he retorted. He gunned the engine, reversed the Land Rover back in a tight circle and accelerated away down the road, without glancing back.

  Melissa stared after him until he disappeared round the bend. Then she gave a slow smile of satisfaction. Well, that hadn’t been so difficult after all! Away from him, she was able to convince herself that she was the cool, scheming femme fatale of her imagination. It was only close up that her resolve blurred, melted in the heat of his experience. She turned and strolled in the direction of her parents’ house.

  Of course, getting him to the pool was the easy bit but stealing the medallion from him was another matter entirely. She was quite sure that Victoria’s notion of asking for it in return for sex was totally out of the question. It was his good luck charm and the way he had talked about it suggested that it was something he couldn’t bear to part with. No, the medallion would have to be lifted when Bob’s attention was somehow distracted. Melissa was beginning to wish that she had never entered into this crazy bet; a simple, uncomplicated animal affair with Bob would have been preferable. But she had never backed down on a matter of honour in her life and she’d be damned if she’d let the likes of Victoria Lumly and Allison Weathers get the better of her. She had enticed Bob into the snare and now all that was required was the single shot that would finish the matter; after that, there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy the resulting relationship. God! Wouldn’t that just make Victoria and Allison greener than ever!

  Savouring her imminent triumph, she turned in at the garden gate and strolled along the path, humming serenely to herself. The front door of the house was open and she went in. Her parents were in the front room, both of them reading, and they did not glance up as she entered— a bad sign. Her father was pretending to be immersed in the Straits Times, a periodical he rarely even glanced at, while her mother was slightly more believable, staring fixedly at the latest Edna O’Brian novel.

  “Your dinner’s in the oven,” announced Kate coldly.

  “I’m not very hungry, thanks.” Melissa flopped down into a spare chair and gazed from one to the other of them, waiting for them to speak, but neither of them did. “Something wrong?” she asked with forced gaiety.

  Dennis peered at her from over his newspaper.

  “Your mother’s angry with you,” he informed her.

  “Oh, well that’s her excuse for not talking,” reasoned Melissa. “What’s yours?”

  “Your father’s angry with you too,” added Kate.

  “We’re both angry,” elaborated Dennis, in case she still had doubts about the matter.

  “I see.” Melissa tried unsuccessfully to mask a smile with her hand.

  “It’s not a matter for smiling, my girl,” snapped Dennis. “We’ve just left Harry’s house—”

  “That poor old man,” interrupted Kate. “How could you treat him like that?”

  “He’s abso
lutely heartbroken—”

  “Mortified—”

  “He didn’t speak a single word all the time we were there—”

  “I’ve never seen him so upset.”

  Melissa followed the conversation with her eyes, gazing from one to the other like a tennis umpire watching a game.

  “Now, of course, we understand that you like this Beresford chap.…”

  “Of course we do.…”

  “… and it’s only natural you should feel that you want to defend him—”

  “… regardless of who’s right or wrong—”

  “… but to come back at poor old Harry like that was totally unjustified—”

  “… savage—”

  “… hurtful—”

  “… disrespectful—”

  “… malicious.”

  “Deuce! Advantage, Daddy,” announced Melissa drily.

  Dennis turned to stare at his wife.

  “You see, Kate, she takes nothing I say seriously.” He seemed to abandon the idea and went glumly back to his newspaper. But Kate wasn’t going to give up quite so easily.

  “All we were trying to say, Melissa, is that we think you owe Uncle Harry an apology. Whether you realize it or not, you hurt him very badly this morning and I think you must be aware how he dotes on you.”

  Melissa sighed.

  “That’s just the trouble though,” she retorted. “Everybody gets very protective about Uncle Harry, don’t they? He’s like some awful plaster saint that everybody worships on their hands and knees.” She switched her voice to a high-pitched whining parody. “Yes Tuan, no Tuan, three bags full, Tuan! Don’t lift that, Tuan, let me do it!” She grimaced, let her voice go back to its more usual pitch. “He’s got everybody running around in his wake like a lot of lemons, and I’m not just talking about the locals, I’m talking about people like us! Now that’s all very well for a while. I suppose Uncle Harry is a national institution a … what was it he said … a dinosaur! But tell me this, Mummy. What does Uncle Harry ever do for anybody else, hmm? When does he ever get down off his pedestal and admit that somebody else has a point of view, that they just, they just might, have a better idea about something than he has?”

  “Now, Melissa, I think that’s a little unfair…”

  “Unfair be blowed! Listen, Mummy, Bob tried every way he knew to get Uncle Harry to go along with him after that tiger. Harry just sat there saying, “It can’t be done, it can’t be done!” and just wouldn’t have anything to do with it. So in the end, Bob had to go out and get the job done. If anyone deserves an apology, it should be Bob getting one from Uncle Harry!”

  Kate set down her book and massaged her forehead for a moment.

  “I don’t think you understand, dear,” she said softly. “It’s immaterial who’s right or wrong in this instance. I’m simply talking about compassion. All I know is that there’s a sad old man sitting in a house down the road who is feeling heartbroken about all this, and a couple of words from you would probably make all the difference. Now, supposing your father were to run you down there now, what do you say? It would mean so much to him.…”

  “No!” Melissa stood up defiantly. “Somebody has got to make a stand somewhere. I think it will do him good to be left alone for a while. Perhaps then he’ll come to realize how wrong he’s been about this.” She dismissed the subject. “I think I’ll have a shower,” she announced, strolling out of the room.

  Kate glared after her.

  “Headstrong little madam,” she murmured.

  Dennis peered from the safety of his newspaper.

  “Remind you of anyone?” he enquired.

  She smiled.

  “Well, perhaps … but I’m sure I wasn’t as pig-headed as that. Oh, but I do hope Harry will be alright.”

  “I expect he’ll get over it.”

  “Do you really think so?” She sighed, picked up her novel. From the bathroom came the sound of water splashing into the shower cubicle.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind,” said Dennis, and he picked up his newspaper. But neither of them were in the right kind of mood to do any reading.

  * * *

  HARRY SAT ALONE in the darkness of his sitting room, staring fixedly in front of him, with eyes that saw nothing. He had been sitting in this way for several hours now, refusing both food and drink, and Pawn was concerned. She had lingered on hours later than usual, hoping that he might change his mind and have some dinner. But whenever she had broached the subject, he had simply grunted a monosyllabic refusal and had returned to his thoughts. Now it was dark outside and Pawn realized that her own family would be worried about her.

  She went and stood in the doorway of the sitting room, but Harry did not even notice her presence.

  “I go now, Tuan,” she said softly. “You would like eat, before I go?”

  Harry glanced up at her for a moment, then shook his head silently.

  “Food is in oven, if you change mind.…” She stepped forward. “Tuan is ill?” she enquired. “Like for me to get Doctor man?”

  Again Harry shook his head.

  “You go now, Pawn. It must be way past your time.”

  She smiled.

  “No matter … if Tuan wish, I come back later, see you alright.…”

  “I’m fine, Pawn. Run along now, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned away as if dismissing her and with a sigh, she went back to the kitchen to collect her bag. She had never seen the Tuan looking so miserable and she had an idea that Ché might have something to do with it. She resolved to have a good talk with the boy when she got home. With a sigh, she let herself out of the back door, locking it behind her. Then she strolled down the driveway and out through the gate. It was a cool, fine evening and a full moon lit up the surface of the road. She walked briskly out of the estate, her flip-flops slapping on the ground. Across the road, in one of the gardens, another amah was taking in some washing from the line and the two of them called briefly to each other as Pawn moved past.

  “Soon the British will all be gone,” thought Pawn sadly, “and then what will the amahs do for work?” She would be alright of course, for she was old and her family would care for her. Besides, Tuan Sullivan had already told her that he would be staying on. But many of the younger girls depended on the British Army and Air Force families for their livelihood. It was a sad state of affairs and no mistake.

  Pawn went out of the estate and moved along the road to Kampong Panjang. To her left, a screen of jungle flanked its edge, thick and impenetrable. To her right, a flat stretch of padi, the shallow water glittering in the moonlight. The dark silhouettes of several fruit-bats flitted silently overhead and vanished amidst the trees. Pawn realized that she should not have stayed so late. Her family would doubtless be worried by her nonappearance at home and it was a good thing that the man-eating tiger had been shot, otherwise they would be combing the jungle in search of her body. Pawn grinned. She had a good family but they would insist on thinking of her as a helpless old woman when in fact she was more capable than the lot of them put together.

  The night vibrated with the song of a million unseen insects and the road ahead was completely deserted. The mile walk to Kampong Panjang would take her a little more than half an hour, for she was still wiry and agile.

  She was passing by a large clump of ferns that bordered the jungle undergrowth when an unfamiliar sound made her stop in her tracks. It was a dry rustling noise, the sound of vegetation being brushed aside to allow something to pass through it. Pawn turned her head to stare at the bushes and sure enough, she could see some agitation there. Now she heard the unmistakable crack of dry twigs breaking beneath a heavy tread. In the silence it sounded so loud that Pawn almost jumped out of her skin.

  With an exclamation, she began to hurry on along the road, not wanting to examine the source of the commotion too carefully. She kept glancing back, half expecting to see some unfamiliar shape following her, but the road remained empty in the moonlight. After a few mome
nts, she began to relax, but then another sound told her that she had not left the problem behind her, that it was simply following through the thick vegetation that bordered the road. A screen of bushes shook as a low moving shape disturbed them. Pawn began to walk more rapidly. Of course, it might be nothing more dangerous than a stray dog or a berok, but she certainly didn’t intend staying behind to find out. She had heard too many kampong tales of weretigers and other hunters of the dark and like most Malays, she had a healthy respect for such stories. She came to a long curve in the road and the movements seemed to have stopped for the time being. She slowed her pace a little for she was getting out of breath and she moved cautiously forward, the slapping of her rubber flip-flops seeming to echo in the silence that had settled around her. Even the insects had stopped their chirruping. She slowed even more now, almost coming to a halt as she glanced this way and that in nervous anticipation, while she told herself not to be silly, there was nothing hidden in the trees that could possibly harm her.

  Then, to her horror, she saw that a large patch of bushes directly ahead of her had begun to shake, as though the creature, whatever it was, had cut through the jungle in order to overtake her. Now it was waiting for her cautious advance, there, in that very bush! Pawn glanced helplessly around. There was no other route, short of going into the undergrowth herself, and she dared not leave the relative normality of the road. She moved forward slowly, never taking her gaze from the bush for an instant. It continued to shake with a constant, steady motion that abruptly aroused her suspicion. What creature of the jungle went around making such an unearthly racket, anyway? Pawn’s eyes narrowed and she began to walk more steadily towards the bush, her hands on her hips.

  “So,” she murmured. “A wicked beast of the jungle is waiting to make a meal of me, eh? A wicked beast that feeds on weak old women like myself … well then, let’s see how you like this!” And she ran the last few feet to the bush, swung her heavy rattan shopping bag into the air and brought it down with a thump into the midst of the bush. A howl of pain and surprise emerged and a creature burst out from cover, a black-haired, two-legged creature by the name of Ché.