Her face lifted. ‘Seems a little odd, doesn’t it?’
‘Absolutely extraordinary. It’s highly unusual not to have some kind of memorial to the dead, even if the bodies are cremated. To date, not a single altar has turned up, let alone a grave or any other organised burial site.’
‘Didn’t you tell me there was an epidemic of some sort?’
‘I certainly did, old girl, of both a greed and a viral nature, but who can say what happened to the bodies? It’s very odd, even if they took their dead out to sea, you would expect some remains to wash up somewhere.’
Bee’s stomach turned. After Pulau Tua she had stopped seeing the world through her privileged child’s eyes, rose coloured and spectacular, but even so, she had paid little heed to the very real prospect of death; in her lifetime no family member had died. Until now death had been conveniently distant.
‘Can’t the boy help?’ asked Marlene.
‘Probably. I have a linguist coming next week to start work with him. We need something a little more sophisticated than pictures and grunts.’
‘How did he survive?’
‘I don’t know. Because we got him off the island, I suppose.’ Giles’ eyes met Bee’s fleetingly. Bee reddened with a confusing guilt.
Marlene smiled, ‘Anyway, it is all very interesting but we digress and I need to get on, busy day ahead and all that. I haven’t yet told you about the boy’s wisdom teeth.’
‘Surely not,’ Giles gasped, ‘At ten?’
‘If he is ten.’
‘Even if he is not!’
‘They’re present. Only partially erupted, but present nevertheless. One would expect them at seventeen or so, maybe early twenties. But ten, well, yes, a first for me that’s for sure. I really think you need to think again about his age.’
‘Could be much older and his dentition is running behind?’
‘Maybe, but visually you’d more likely have a match. By that I mean he might be thirteen with a ten year olds’ set of teeth but he’d probably look ten too. He’d be behind all round, if you see what I mean. Usually.’
Giles shook his head in wonder. ‘So, is that everything?’
‘No. One more thing actually, a small thing and no more than a thought. The boy has an overjet, meaning the upper jaw is slightly larger than the lower so his front teeth protrude. I am probably getting carried away, but it might be useful in a mouth that was used to grip things, perhaps in order to overpower prey. Just a thought.’ She swung her bag onto her shoulder and shot out a thin hand, ‘I’ll send you my report, I should have the swab results in a few days. Don’t forget that drink you owe me.’
Giles’ shook her hand like an automaton. ‘I won’t. Thank you, Marlene, thank you so much for coming. You will be able to come back? To keep record of his progress?’
‘Try and stop me!’ She began to walk away, but a final thought seemed to draw her back. ‘Giles, you should bear in mind that the boy could be as susceptible to medical syndromes as anyone else. Elongated teeth, although not specific to canines, can be a result of a condition known as macrodontia, and it could be that he has some form of it. Also the extra cusp, again it maybe the condition I described and nothing more exciting than that.’
‘But two together? Let’s be realistic, how likely is that, old thing? And with the wisdom teeth, the lack of milk teeth…’
‘Not very, it’s true, but then again maybe both anomalies appear together as symptoms of a single genetic disorder, not unlike like webbed fingers and ankyloglossia. Who are we to say?’
‘Maybe, but doubtful. It is a tiny genetic pool.’
‘Making it more likely, surely.’
‘Making it more likely to be an adaptation than an abnormality, Marlene.’
‘More likely a useful irregularity we perceive as an adaptation, isn’t that all that evolution is, put simply?’
Giles chortled. ‘Off you go! I thought you were in a hurry, my dear.’
Marlene waggled a finger at him, ‘Don’t try and force the facts to fit, it’s naughty.’
Giles laughed heartily, taking Bee by surprise. She had seen him smile a few times but never had she heard him laugh.
‘Actually, Giles, given what I can see of the boy with my own eyes I think we can safely assume Tuan people are not… or were not… quite like you and I. Even without the evidence of other individuals. But I am a dentist, not a geneticist, and a busy one at that. I will leave you to it.’
Bee eagerly placed a hand on Marlene to delay her retreat.
‘What is it?’ Marlene asked, kindly.
‘I just wondered what carnassials are, and what a linguist is? And a cusp, and some other things you said.’
‘Ah! Look at this. A student! Carnassials are teeth that can slice, you know, take meat from a bone. A linguist is a language expert. A cusp is a protrusion I suppose, a bit that stands out, anything else will have to wait or you can ask Giles. I really must go, okay?’
‘A language expert!’ This was exciting news for Bee. ‘So I’ll be able to talk to him? Soon?’
The dentist looked to Giles for an answer.
He nodded, ‘Eventually. Perhaps I should tell you, Marlene, that this is the young lady from the island who has come to help us. She has already made a big difference to the boy. He is far calmer since she became involved. It’s not often I extend my gratitude…’
‘…to children…’ added Marlene.
‘…particularly to children, but I feel I must.’
Bee smiled but noted that no actual thank you was forthcoming. She chanced one more question, ‘And what is angkla…?’
Marlene made a quick exit.
‘Tongued tied, young lady, something it seems you never are.’
Bee blushed at the unexpectedly affectionate tone.
MEANING AND MONEY
After Bee’s two-week quarantine and another fortnight spent viewing each other through glass, the time came for the children to meet. When it did, they were already very different people than the two frightened creatures that had peered at one another through the wooden slats of a hut on a beach in Southeast Asia. Constant observation had gnawed away at the boy’s fight, reducing him to a level of supposed docility that all but ignored his humanity. Where once he had been admired for his ability to control his feistiness and cooperate, he was increasingly assumed to be naturally biddable; his wild appearance merely a diversion from his natural passivity: a sheep in tiger’s clothing.
Giles voiced frustration over the fact that his wild child had been so easily tamed and trained, choosing to give little credence to the fact that the boy had never been wild in the first place, only different. Giving the first public indication that Bee might also be under observation, he reported to colleagues that the girl was clearly maturing nicely and in a far more positive way than the boy. He said she was not at all the minx that roamed the beach and jungle expecting all to fall at her feet. Now, he claimed, she seemed eager to develop her mind where the boy appeared disinterested, dwelling in defeat.
His perceptions were only partially correct, ego blinding him to the full truth of the children’s recent and rapid development. No amount of study could reveal what really lay within. The boy had indeed surrendered and become even more moderate than the manageable person he had first appeared to be during the early days of assessment, but only because to fight had proved unproductive. More importantly, in recent weeks he strongly suspected his reward for more cooperative behaviour would be the blue-eyed girl. Emotional camouflage was not difficult for a boy from a culture where stealth was an absolute requirement. Or from a boy whose comfortable world has been devastated.
Equally, Bee had no choice but to appear absorbed in all she was told, understanding from the beginning that this illusion would accelerate her proposed contact with the boy. Any loss of childishness – her apparent ‘maturing’ – was the temporary result of confinement with uncreative adults, rather than outgrowing her desire to play. In much the same
way as the boy had quickly decoded random testing as a nothing more than lack of direction on the scientists’ part and manipulated it, Bee found recognising adult expectations to be second nature. Satisfying them was akin to breathing. Such is the skill of an only child. None of this manoeuvring Giles had factored in, so when the time came for the two children to meet face to face with no screen or wall between them, with the clear exception of the first unguarded moments, he observed two people doing nothing more than fulfilling expectations in hope of reward, instead of viewing raw interaction as he wanted.
*
The lounge room in which the children would meet was cosy, a relaxing environment for Bee and much less extraordinary for the boy than it might have been, since in preparation he had been allowed in many times.
A soft rug carpeted the wooden floor, with a number of comfortable chairs arranged throughout, each adorned with colourful cushions. A large leather beanbag sat plumped beside a bookcase, alongside it a television and old music system attached to the wall. A solid wooden desk held a keyboard for a computer, screen recessed into the plaster, the childish contents of its drawer soon to disappoint. It could not be seen, but every piece of furniture was firmly secured so it could not be moved, even the beanbag was held in place. The boy had behaved impeccably for so long, yet Giles could not forget how powerful he proved to be the time he had fought against injection. Most, including Bee, believed Giles was overreacting, seeing problems where there were none. But something else bothered Giles. Nothing could erase from his memory the easy, purposeful, killing of the monkey.
The boy had been in the room many times before because Giles insisted that prior to the meeting he should spend as much time there as possible. On the day, there should be no distraction from the girl, no wandering curiosity. Under observation, the boy had explored, mistreating nothing, carefully handling items that seemed safe to touch, visually inspecting anything too extraordinary. During those exploratory forays, the entrance was left open, but ultimately it would be shut and two security guards placed outside, just in case. Again all but Giles deemed it an overreaction.
*
When the day finally came, Bee’s nervousness spiralled as she sat in the lounge in one of the big soft chairs and waited. She wanted to meet the boy above all else, but like Giles could not help recalling the calm way in which he had broken the monkey’s neck.
She shifted in her seat, trying to settle herself, but once her body was still, so the heel of her foot restlessly jerked up and down. She wriggled again. Her mouth was dry, but there was nothing to drink. Again the macaque came into her mind. With the tiniest of anxious smiles, she vowed not to go to the boy should he start cooing and grunting at her. She wished he would hurry up. She thought of her family and wondered why they had not come and if they even knew she was meeting him. So much had happened, so much worry, so much trust. Perhaps they had been asked to stay away. She looked to the wall in front of her, a one-way mirror. Maybe they were on the other side. Should she wave? Bee fiddled with her hair, tucking behind her ear those strands always too rebellious to remain in her ponytail. She found herself repeatedly smoothing them back in a nervous tic. Eventually she sat on her hands but her heel started jerking again. Time dragged on.
When finally the door opened, Bee’s breath caught in her throat. It had seemed such a long wait, far too long, but now it was all too soon. She did not feel ready and began to tremble. The boy slowly entered and then paused, staring at the mirrored wall with an uneasy expression. He frowned. It was if his vision had penetrated the one-way partition. The scowl deepened. Bee saw a guard move into the still open door, presumably ready to intervene. Suddenly the boy relaxed. His expression lifted and he took a single step. Then, motionless once more, he turned his gaze on Bee. The guard retreated and the door slowly closed. Bee did not hear a click. It had been left ajar.
Everything Bee had been told by Giles was forgotten, all instruction about when to wait and when to move. Gathering her courage, she stood up and slowly walked over to greet him, heart thumping so hard she could feel it throbbing in her neck and mouth. Carefully stretching out her fingers, she waited for the boy to follow her lead and place his hand in hers. Hands, she noticed, that were large. Were they that way on the beach? The memory of that last day always jarred so she rarely thought about. Everything about him was so much bigger than she expected even though she‘d seen him many times. Face to face, in person, the boy appeared huge. Bee waited, hand reaching, beginning to feel foolish, wondering if she should stop. And then he reached out and took it.
It was explosive. The boy’s grip brought it all back: the most spontaneous act of her life, her crude attempt at liberation; too quick for the feel of his touch to be committed to memory yet here she was, reminded of it.
Then hands parted. The culprit this time not a large gloved Malaysian, but a degree of mutual embarrassment.
*
At first, Giles was livid. All hopes of observing a spontaneous greeting were lost because Bee had failed to wait for the boy to come to her. He watched them shake hands and groaned with disappointment, despairing. The first salutation it was possible to witness from the boy, and they ended up with the most common Western greeting imaginable. One thing was clear however – and Giles was no more pleased than he was disappointed – the boy wasn’t planning to break her neck. At least, not yet.
As he watched the children move quite naturally to the chairs, his anger and frustration slowly began to refocus. Had he been unprofessional yet again, he questioned? Usually so clear in thought and purpose, had he been so caught up in glory that he’d become blinded by it? As one discovery about the boy’s physiology came tumbling hot on the heels of another, had he allowed himself to be carried by away by praise, taking credit where credit was not due? The boy had wrongly come to represent personal triumph rather than scientific discovery, as if Giles himself were Creator. Observe and record, analyse, observe again and forget conjecture. Be objective. That is how it should be. But Giles realised somewhere along the way, expectation had infected his work.
With this insight, Giles’ mind cleared and the reason for the boy’s hesitation became obvious. He had been faced with an unexpected visitor, for no one indicated that the room would be anything other than it normally was: empty. What would anyone do but take a moment to think? The thought expanded. Giles considered whether Tuan children did not necessarily regard themselves as dominant despite their predatory heritage, since the boy had not made the first move. He squeezed his eyes shut to think. It proved nothing, for it was equally possible that culturally, the dominant Tuan should not make the first move.
On opening his eyes, Giles took a mental step back. What was it he had missed whilst he had been foolishly willing the boy into reaction? In his mind he reviewed the first moments when the subject had entered the room, the pause, the instant change in expression as Bee walked to him. Suddenly Giles understood what he had seen: a human emotion so powerful it could smother all other instincts, an emotion that rarely made way for protocol. What he had seen in the boy’s face was an undeniable case of love.
*
On first entering the room, the boy had seen nothing except his own reflection. He no longer wore the green gown but what others wore: blue jeans and a plain white tee shirt. His hair trailed over his shoulders, so much blacker than anyone else’s, even those whose faces looked a little like his. He stared at himself. It had never been so long.
Then the boy saw the reason for the occasion. For a split second he was unable to believe his eyes or his good fortune. But he did not know what to do. Had the girl been from his homeland, he would have greeted her as any other welcome visitor and taken her elbows in cupped hands as she took his. But she was not. He realised now that he had failed to observe precisely how plain people normally greeted one another. He knew some shook hands and others kissed cheeks, but with the girl he had seen more than just these two forms of welcome. He had seen her fair hair ruffled,
so fine it made a nest fit for a bird; her sweet face held so her lips puckered; her upper arms gently squeezed or stroked. He had seen her hugged as many times as he had witnessed adults ignore her completely, and once watched with wonder as she slapped an open hand against another’s high in the air, flashing white teeth in a mad grin as she did it. He felt the moment was too important to get wrong but could not think what to do; he wanted to be respectful in a way she would understand. He took a step forward and left it to providence.
Part Two
STEPS
More than two years had passed since Step Two ended the miserable isolation of the macaque, and sometimes it felt to the boy as if time were running away with him. Important decisions weighed heavily, and it was hard not having someone to ask about things.
The Fourth Step, bravery, had been completed but the boy was not satisfied. Three matters left him unsure: firstly, had he really completed the Step? Secondly, was it acceptable to take the Steps out of the predetermined order, for Step Three had been stored away and ignored, too dull to contemplate and never thrilling him in the way a test of courage could. This led to the final question: was overcoming temptation part of the overall test? Had he failed simply by straying from the sequence? He knew of no precedent.
Nor was he clear about what actually counted as bravery. When he first began thinking about Step Four, one of his first ideas was to hold the large and leggy spider he had seen guarding the bath in Bee’s house. It would certainly have presented an uncomfortable challenge and he had shuddered at the thought of it, but he knew it was far from enough and so, at the time, was forced to dismiss the only plan he had.
He needed help, someone to ask, but there was not one person who could truly understand the dilemma he faced, and no plain man he was willing to trust with full knowledge of the Steps, not even Felix whom he loved. Also undecided, was definition. Could bravery be defined as the conquering of fear, or merely by the taming of it? Everything was far more complicated than he ever imagined in those easy days when running his toes through the sand and dreaming of coming glory was all there was.
The Last Tiger Page 9
