“Uh … I…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Climb aboard!”
This was such an unexpected turn of events that Melissa was literally stunned by it. She stood at the roadside for several moments, debating what to do. Then she remembered a recent conversation with her mother and this provided her with an answer.
“No thanks, I think I’d rather walk.”
Now it was Bob’s turn to register surprise.
“No?” he echoed incredulously. “But why ever not? You surely don’t want to walk all that way in this heat, do you?”
“Oh … I enjoy walking,” retorted Melissa. “Thanks anyway!” And she turned and continued on her way. Bob stared after after her for a minute. Then he started the engine and brought the Land Rover gently up alongside her.
“All right, I get the picture,” he said. “You’re still mad at me, right?”
“Mad at you, Mr. Beresford? Why on earth should I be mad at you?”
“For not turning up at the pool that time when we arranged to meet.”
Melissa smiled. “Oh, you mean that you didn’t turn up either? And to think all this time I’ve been worried about standing you up, when in fact, neither of us bothered to go.”
“Well I … I was detained.… I wanted to go— Here look, why don’t you get in? It’ll make it easier to talk.”
Melissa paused again, feigning indecision. Then just as Bob began to reach over to help her in, she recommenced walking.
“I really do enjoy walking, you know,” she announced airily.
The Land Rover cruised alongside of her again. Bob was beginning to look faintly harassed.
“Look, I said I was sorry,” he growled. “Can’t you see I’m trying to make it up with you?”
“Make what up?” Melissa directed a smile of sweet innocence in Bob’s direction.
“It’s all very well giving me the freeze-out treatment,” muttered Bob. “I seem to remember you were far from cold the time we made the little appointment. In fact, the way I remember it, you were very friendly indeed.”
“You were rather friendly yourself,” retorted Melissa sharply. “But of course, that was before the people at Kampong Machis stole your tiger.”
Bob looked indignant.
“What? You surely don’t think that’s why I…?”
Melissa shrugged. “I did sort of get that impression,” she said, and she began to walk on again. This time she managed to travel some considerable distance before the Land Rover pulled alongside of her again. Bob looked rather shamefaced, like a child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.
“I guess I owe you an apology,” he murmured uncomfortably. “The fact is that you’re right about that tiger. I think in many ways I’ve got a lot of growing up to do. It was just so important to me, that’s all. And remember, at the time, I thought it was the tiger, the man-eater. But of course, old Sullivan was right all the time … and to think I nearly bit the poor old bastard’s head off.”
“He doesn’t bear a grudge. I was ’round there last night, the matter wasn’t even mentioned. Really, I think he’s forgotten about it.”
“I can hardly see how. Perhaps he’s already done his growing up.” Bob sighed. “But I keep thinking about something he said at the time. You remember, he told me it was my duty to go out and warn the villagers … he said that if I didn’t, the next death would be on my conscience. Well, he was right about that too. I keep thinking that maybe, if I’d done as he said…”
“Oh, you mustn’t think like that! You’re the only one who’s trying to do something about the tiger, after all. It’s not your fault if he keeps eluding you.”
“Maybe not.” He glanced at Melissa hopefully. “You sure you won’t accept a lift? I’m going your way, you know.”
Melissa sighed. She could feel her resolve weakening by the moment. But really, wasn’t it absolutely typical? Just when she had made up her mind to forget that the wretched man even existed …
“Alright,” she conceded at last. “Just a lift. No strings attached, okay?”
“Sure, whatever you say!” Bob reached out and helped her into the passenger seat. “It’s good to be friends again,” he observed. Melissa stared at him, amazed by his simple code of ethics. “He thinks everything’s fine and dandy now!” she thought to herself bitterly. “One simple apology and everything’s as right as rain again. Honestly, the sheer impudence of the man.…” For a moment she experienced a powerful desire to instruct him to hold on, while she clambered out, and calmly informed him that she wouldn’t be his friend if he were the last man on earth; but then his handsome tanned face was smiling winningly at her and the Land Rover was accelerating away down the road. A second, more appealing notion formed itself in Melissa’s mind. She would get Bob to take her home by a slightly more circuitous route than usual, a route that would take the vehicle past the front gate of Victoria Lumly’s house, where, with any luck, the hideous Victoria, and perhaps even her drippy friend, Allison, would be sunbathing in the garden. The looks of sheer terror on the faces of her two archenemies would be the high spot of an otherwise tedious day, and if Bob behaved himself on the journey homewards, Melissa might … she just might … invite him to dinner on Saturday night.
* * *
DOCTOR KALIM tapped the end of his pencil repeatedly against the scarred wooden surface of his desk while he waited patiently for the young girl to stop crying. She was hunched up in her chair, a portrait of perfect misery and she was sobbing her despair away into the large white pocket handkerchief that Kalim had lent her. Kalim found himself unable to go over and comfort her, he felt oddly remote from her despair. That was not to say that he did not pity her, it was just that over the years, he had grown more and more accustomed to this scene. The first time the girl had visited him, he had known only too well that it would end this way. A shame. Such a pretty little thing. Eighteen years old and, at this moment in time, very confused.
Her sobbing had subsided a little and now she gazed imploringly up at him, her eyes thick with tears.
“I’m afraid there can be no mistake,” murmured the Doctor. “You’re two months pregnant. I am sorry that my diagnosis brings you no joy.”
Lim sniffed, nodded, dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. She had known in her heart that she was with child, but she had put off coming to a doctor for as long as possible, hoping that like any other troublesome ill, the condition would simply go away. Now, the truth could be avoided no longer.
“I am … sorry, Doctor.” she murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. And remember, it’s not too late for the condition to be terminated— You understand my meaning?”
She nodded, but looked away, was unable to meet his gaze.
“You can … cut the baby out?” she said tonelessly.
“Abortion is a simple enough operation. You need be in hospital for no more than a day … but of course, it requires money.” He glanced at her enquiringly. “Have you spoken to your parents of your suspicion?”
Lim shook her head.
“Well then, you must tell them now.”
“Oh, but I could not tell them! They would kill me!”
Doctor Kalim frowned.
“I doubt that very much,” he retorted. “Oh, they will hardly be pleased of course, but I’m sure—” He broke off in mid-sentence, seeing from the look of determination on her pretty face that she would never take that course. “Very well. Do you know who the father is?”
“Yes.”
Doctor Kalim looked at the forms in front of him. There it was in the girl’s own laboured scrawl. Occupation: AMAH. How many times had he been obliged to go through this next series of questions?
“Is it your employer?”
The girl glanced away, reluctant to speak.
“I can assure you that anything you are telling me will be treated in the strictest of confidences. Now, come along. Is it your employer?”
Lim nodded.
“Is he British?”
“No. From Australia…”
“A white man, nonetheless. And have you told him anything of your suspicions?”
“No, Doctor. I could not.”
“Well, then you must! You need have no fears on that account. Why you silly girl, what consideration has he displayed for your feelings? The story is always being the same! He is clearly to blame for your condition and now he must be made to be bearing the consequences. I have not the slightest doubt that once informed, he will be only too eager to pay for the abortion.”
Lim shook her head.
“But supposing I do not want the baby cut out of me?” she cried. “I want to have the child. I want to be its mother!”
Kalim stared at her for several moments in utter despair.
“What are you saying?” he snapped. “Foolish girl, do you think for one moment that your employer will be willing to marry you? Such men are not prepared to do what they call ‘the honorable thing.’” The doctor got up from his desk and paced over to the window, his hands in his pockets. “If you had been studying as I have, you would know that the history of the white man has always been one of domination and misuse of the people whose lands he appropriated. Why not so very long ago, you would be lucky to escape being driven into the jungle to fend for yourself. The women of the colonies were there to be dishonoured and deflowered as the white man saw fit.” He turned away from the window and paced back to the desk. “No doubt this man will soon be returning to his homeland. Are you honestly believing that he will want to take a Chinese wife home with him?”
Lim gazed helplessly at the surface of the desk.
“I … cannot say,” she stammered.
“Of course, you cannot. Now, you go home and tell this man what he has done to you. Then tell him to come and see me, and we can be arranging this abortion. But do not be wasting much more time, or it will be too late! You understand? And no more foolish talk of keeping the child. One day you will be meeting a handsome young Chinese boy who you may talk into marrying you. But not if you are already having a baby tucked under your arm, do you see? Go along now, and send in the next patient.”
Lim nodded silently. She got up, gave her eyes a last wipe with the handkerchief and placed it carefully on the desk. The doctor was sorting through his papers, he had already dismissed her from his mind. She gave a small shrug of resignation and moved slowly towards the door, her gaze fixed vacantly on the ground beneath her. She could picture Bob Tuan’s face contorted with anger and disbelief, and she flinched involuntarily from the cutting edge of his outraged voice. She knew that despite Doctor Kalim’s advice, she could never bring herself to tell Bob the truth. She would just have to hope and pray that he would offer to marry her. There seemed no other hope for her.
She let herself out of the office and drifted through the waiting room in a daze. She emerged into blazing hot sunshine and a cacophony of noisy traffic and for the first time the realization hit her that as she travelled homewards, she was carrying a new life deep in the pit of her belly, a small soft formless thing that would grow day by day until it acquired the form of the baby she so badly wanted. Even at this early stage, she was determined that nobody would ever take this new life away from her. Come what may, she intended to be its mother.
CHAPTER 24
HARRY TAPPED politely on the door of the spare room.
“Hello in there! Mrs. Burns … Marion? The dinner’s served.…”
The door opened and Marion emerged. Harry stared at her for several moments in undisguised surprise. He had known that she intended taking a shower and changing her clothes before dinner, but he had not been prepared for such a transformation. She was wearing a blue silk evening dress, cut quite low at the neck, but still, Harry thought, tasteful. She had carefully brushed her short grey hair and had applied the merest touch of makeup to her eyes, emphasizing their lovely blue-grey tone. At her throat, she wore a single strand of natural pearls and she also sported a pair of matching earrings. The effect was uncanny but she looked five years younger and several pounds lighter than the woman who had arrived at the house earlier that morning. Harry hadn’t realized how openly he was staring at her until Marion said defensively, “Well, I don’t wear khakis all the time, you know!”
Harry coughed self-consciously.
“Er … no, of course not. You look very…” He waved his hands ineffectively, realizing that he had forgotten how to go about giving compliments to a woman. He reddened slightly. “Shall we er … go in?” he suggested lamely.
“Yes, let’s! I’m absolutely ravenous.”
“Well, that’s good. From what I saw going on in the kitchen earlier, Pawn’s prepared enough food to feed a regiment.” They strolled along the hallway and into the dining room. Pawn had laid out the feast on the large teak dining table and it was the first time in many years that it had been laden with a meal worthy of its grandeur.
“Good lord,” said Marion softly. “You weren’t exaggerating, were you?”
If the meal had tasted only half as good as it looked it would still have been delicious. It was set out in typical Malay fashion, a plethora of small hot dishes from which the diner might choose at will. There were, of course, various curries, thick and fragrant with coriander and wild lime varying in their degrees of fierceness from a mild chicken mixture, pale and creamy with coconut milk, to a fiery green curry that was laced with chilies and peppercorns, only bearable to the most well-seasoned palate. There was the much milder Nasi Goreng, a delicious concoction of rice and prawns, lightly spiced and flecked with scraps of beaten egg. There was Kari Kapitan, shreds of tender chicken cooked with onions, chilies, yellow ginger and lemon juice. Satay, barbecued kebabs of beef soaked in a rich peanut sauce. Laksa Assam, fish and noodles flavored with tamarind juice and Nasi Kandar, white rice ladled over with a piquant shellfish and vegetable sauce. For sweets, there was an equally magical array. Freshly sliced papaya and winter melon were a mouth-watering alternative to the hot curry dishes. There was a large platter of mangosteen, a succulent white fruit, sliced into thin segments and sprinkled with wild lime juice. Rambutans and chilled lychees in custard. And of course, the greatest delicacy of all, the magnificently malodorous durian in all its thick glory.
“Where do you start?” enquired Marion wonderingly.
“Start by sitting down,” Harry told her with a chuckle. He pulled out a chair for her and waited politely while she settled into it. Then he sat himself opposite her. He indicated a large champagne bucket filled with iced water. Inside it floated half a dozen cans of Tiger beer.
“I suppose it really ought to be wine,” he murmured. “But you can’t get hold of any decent stuff out here…”
Marion shook her head.
“I was raised on this stuff,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t dream of drinking anything else with dinner.” She surveyed the multitude of offerings in silent anticipation. “Now then,” she mused thoughtfully. “What shall we try first?” She reached out experimentally and lifted up a forkful of one of the milder curries, savouring its delicate aroma for a moment before putting it into her mouth. “It’s absolutely delicious,” she announced. “You were right about Pawn. She’s a treasure.”
The amah chose just this moment to bustle into the room, beaming all over her wizened face.
“I go now, Tuan. Hope you and Missy like dinner.”
“Pawn, this is the finest meal you’ve ever made,” said Harry.
“Thank you, Tuan!” The beam broadened into a wide grin and she bowed slightly from the waist. “Now I go cook for own family,” she announced happily. “You enjoy. I come ’morrow morning, wash dishes.” And she backed slowly out of the room, delighted by the praise she had received. She closed the door after her and a few minutes later, the back door slammed and they glimpsed her tiny bent figure as she hurried down the driveway into the brief tropical twilight.
Harry poured Marion a glass of ice-cold beer.
&
nbsp; “Cheers,” he said, and they both drank.
“Now, come along,” Marion urged him as he set down his glass. “You’ll be left at the starting gate, if you’re not careful.”
“Hmm?”
“The food! You’ve not eaten a thing yet.”
“Well, that’s easily fixed,” he replied. He took up his fork and spoon and set to the happy task with gusto. For the first time in ages, he felt that he had a keen enough appetite to do the meal justice. For several minutes, the two of them ate in silence, applying their full concentration to the enjoyment of the food. But then, as the keen edge of their hunger diminished, they became more leisurely and soon enough, they fell into conversation.
“And what does your average tiger eat for dinner?” enquired Marion, as she reached out for a second helping of Kari Kapitan. “When he’s not chewing the leg off some unlucky native, that is.”
Harry smiled at the ghoulishness of her phrasing.
“Well, hereabouts, it’s mostly wild pig … or at least, it should be, under normal conditions. But the fact is, there don’t seem to be many around lately. Once upon a time, you couldn’t take a stroll in the jungle without seeing several of them, but the last time I went out, I didn’t even see any evidence of them. Strange.…”
“I believe Mr. Kirby, up at the game department, mentioned something about that. Some disease apparently is killing off the wild pigs in Trengganu … though he’s not sure about the cause. I got the impression he thought that it might be a man-made epidemic … pollution of some kind; but he was very vague…”
“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was right about that,” growled Harry bitterly. “As far as the businessmen and developers are concerned, the jungle is just a temporary obstacle to be torn down at the earliest opportunity and replaced with highways and tower-blocks. It’s sickening.”
“You sound bitter about it; and if it’s any consolation, I agree with you entirely. But going back to the food thing. If there are no pigs left, what’s next on the agenda?”
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