Bob sighed, glanced at her.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, I’m listening.”
She paused for a moment, unsure of herself now that she had his attention. She began again at the beginning, halting and self-conscious.
“Bob Tuan, I must speak of something that is very hard for me to say. You know I care very much for Tuan, but I would not have you think I say this because I want go to Australia.…”
“Well, now I think we’ve had this conversation already, Lim. You know I’ve told you before that there’s absolutely no chance of…”
“But please, Tuan, when you hear what I have to say, maybe you not think that way. Maybe you think of Susie Lim different when you hear what I must speak…”
Bob sighed, shook his head.
“I don’t think there’s anything you can say that can make me change my mind on that one, Lim, and frankly, I’m a little surprised at you talking this way. I thought more of you than that. It’s been a fine relationship in every sense of the word, but when the time comes to go, that’s the way it has to be.”
“Yes, but Tuan, now I am … now I am…”
“The beach!” exclaimed Bob, and he swore curtly beneath his breath. He turned and headed towards the door. “Listen Lim, we’ll talk about this another time right; only right now, I have to go find my luck, savvy?” He waved her to silence. “Now, while I’m gone, I want you to think very carefully about what you’ve been saying. I think you’ll come to the conclusion that you’ve not been very fair. Frankly, I don’t want to hear any more about the subject.”
“But Tuan … you have not listened to me! I try to tell you that…”
“Now, that’s enough, Lim! I’ll be back later on. Why don’t you get working on a nice curry for dinner, eh? See you later.…”
And he was gone again, striding across the porch in his heavy work boots. Lim stared after him helplessly, her face expressionless. After a few moments, she heard the roar of the Land Rover as he gunned the engine, and then the vehicle was accelerating away down the street, leaving her sad and alone in the silence of the house.
She shook her head slowly from side to side. She had tried. She had tried so hard to speak, but he had not let her finish, and in her heart she knew that even if she had been allowed to say everything that was troubling her, still, he would not have heard her words. She returned to her seat by the table. Staring down at her dull reflection in the cheerless brown Formica, she wondered desperately what she should do next.
CHAPTER 30
WHEN THE paper boy brought the copy of the Straits Times that morning, Harry was waiting eagerly. He slipped the boy a silver coin and opened the paper to the appropriate place, ignoring the lead items of world news that usually received his full attention. On page six, he found the article under the resplendent title of “The Hunter and the Hunted.” It seemed to be the same basic article that he had read on the verandah only a couple of days earlier, but fleshed out here and there in the second or third draft. Harry thought it was probably the best piece he had ever read on the Malaysian tiger and he felt a warm glow of pride at his involvement in the project. What pleased him even more though, was a lengthy dedication that preceded the article itself.
The author would like to thank the people of Trengganu whose hospitality during my stay was so generous and heartwarming; also, a special thank-you to Lieutenant Colonel Harry Sullivan (retired), whose insights into the life-patterns of the tiger proved invaluable and without whose help this article would not have been possible.
Harry sighed. He folded the newspaper shut and laid it down on the rattan table. He settled back in his chair and stared thoughtfully off across the garden. The papaya trees seemed to shimmer in the heat haze.
“I’m missing her already,” he thought to himself, and he wondered if he might not act on her advice soon and travel up to K.L. for a brief visit. No doubt she had been correct in her assessment of him. A stubborn old creature of habit, forever patrolling those areas which he had designated as his home territory: the house, the garden, the Mess. Soon now, the latter would no longer be open to him. The modern world was encroaching on his familiar ground, whittling it inexorably away. He had the choice of slinking back into his house for the remainder of his life, or simply changing his habits, finding new ranges to patrol. Perhaps he might even ask Marion to be his wife. At the very worst, she could only say no.… He was tired of living alone. It had been for too long …
He closed his eyes and the heat of the morning settled around him in a heavy, all enveloping shroud. He slept and dreamed that he was young again.
* * *
MELISSA APPROACHED Bob’s house cautiously and was relieved to see that the familiar Land Rover was not parked by the gates. Nestled in her pocket, her hand was clammy around the small metallic medallion. She advanced cautiously along the garden path. The front door of the house was wide open and a radio was playing within, a Chinese pop song, the voice of the girl vocalist harsh and discordant to Western ears. Melissa stood on the porch for several moments, before stepping forward to knock politely at the door. After an interval of a few moments, a pretty young Chinese amah stepped into view. The two girls appraised each other in silence for several moments.
Despite herself, Melissa felt a curious twinge of envy run through her, because the girl was extraordinarily attractive, but then, as she looked closer, she experienced a sense of despair, because it was quite apparent that Victoria Lumly’s ugly “gossip” was nothing short of the truth. Lim was pregnant, as anyone could tell at a glance. Her hair and skin were in poor condition and the baggy shirt she was wearing did little to hide the fact that her tiny waist was beginning to lose its shape. Her eyes possessed the weak washed-out quality that suggested she had shed many tears over the last few weeks. Melissa wondered how Bob could be so blind as to be unaware of the girl’s condition.
“Too preoccupied with himself, as usual,” she thought to herself.
Lim glanced down at her feet, as though she was aware of Melissa’s thoughts.
“Yes, Missy?” she enquired meekly.
“I … I’m a friend of Bob’s … Mr. Beresford,” began Melissa, and was saddened to see an expression of anxiety flare up in Lim’s lovely eyes, as she recognized a possible rival. Melissa felt burdened with an unspeakable guilt. She forced herself not to think about what had happened on the beach the other night. “I … have something that belongs to Mr. Beresford, perhaps you might return it to him for me.” She took her hand from her pocket and held it out, palm upwards, to reveal its contents.
“Oh, Missy, thank you! Bob Tuan will be so pleased. He has been looking everywhere for this…” Her voice trailed away and her eyes narrowed slightly, as she asked, “Please Missy, where did you…?”
“Mr. Beresford came to dinner at my house, the other night. We found it on the floor.” The reply was too quick, too forced. There was an uncomfortable silence.
“The missy … would like to wait?” enquired Lim at last and the reluctance in her voice was barely disguised.
“No, no, that’s quite alright. Just give him the medallion. I’m sure he’ll be glad to get it back.…” Melissa stood hesitantly in the porch, her arms hanging awkwardly by her sides. She felt torn between the desire to get away from the place before Bob appeared on the scene and the natural compulsion to help Lim in some way. Melissa felt desperately sorry for the girl, who was no doubt hanging grimly on in the vague hope that Bob would marry her.
“When will you have your baby?” she blurted out abruptly.
Lim’s eyes widened into an expression of shock. She made as if to run back into the house, but Melissa grabbed the girl’s wrist and held her fast.
“How did you know?” whispered Lim fearfully.
“I have eyes,” replied Melissa simply, not wanting to mention the fact that her pregnancy was such a widely rumoured story. “Soon, you will begin to show, so that even Tuan Beresford will notice. Then he’ll be angry that you didn’t tell him
sooner.…”
Lim shook her head sadly.
“I have tried to tell him, Missy. He will not hear me.”
“Then you must make him hear you!”
“What is the use? He will not marry me and take me to ’Stralia.”
“Perhaps not … but at least it won’t be too late to get rid of the baby.”
A look of complete misery came to Lim’s face and her eyes filled with wretched tears.
“Oh Missy, it is already too late! The doctor warned me to be quick, but time has passed.…” Her voice dissolved into an indecipherable flurry of weeping. Melissa could only stand and stare helplessly at the girl, unsure of what to do.
“Here now, that won’t help at all.…”
Lim nodded, sniffed, stepped back into the sanctuary of the house. It was plain that crying had become a regular occurrence for her lately.
“I am sorry, Missy. I will go now. Thank you for bringing the charm, Bob Tuan will be very pleased.…”
“Don’t forget now, Lim, you must tell him everything, just as soon as he gets home. Promise me.…”
But Lim was gone, bustling into the interior of the house, alone with her tears and her sorrow. Melissa stood for a few moments, gazing in through the doorway. She called Lim’s name a couple of times, but received no reply. After a short while, she shrugged and walked away along the garden path. Abruptly, her own worries seemed small and insignificant compared to the problems that assailed the young amah. What had happened to Melissa was something transient, the memory of it would fade in time, but Lim would be forever burdened by the shame and sorrow of her affair with Bob by the very real and demanding presence of a baby. At a time when her young life should be blossoming into fruition, it was, almost certainly, ruined forever. The greatest irony of all was that the girl so obviously worshipped the man who had brought about her ruination. One thing was for certain: Bob Beresford was not the kind of man to accept his moral responsibilities. Once he found out the way things were, he would be off like a shot, perhaps leaving a little money to salve his conscience. In this country, a white man could buy his way out of anything, it seemed.
Her hatred for the self-centered Australian was now totally compounded; yet the realization that there was somebody worse off than herself had done her a great deal of good. She headed for home with a lighter step, and getting rid of the medallion trophy had served to convince her that now, once and for all, Bob Beresford was out of her life for good. She sincerely hoped that she would never set eyes on him again. With that thought uppermost in her mind, she strode homewards through the lengthening shadows of late afternoon.
CHAPTER 31
IN THE strange hazy light, just after dawn, Haji crept slowly in from the thick scrub jungle that bordered Kampong Panjang, made reckless once again by his desperate need to eat. His injured foreleg was now so useless that it impeded him in everything he did and the vile smell of suppurating flesh was always in his nostrils. His life was a slow, limping misery and yet he clung onto it voraciously, with every ounce of his animal instinct. How simple a matter it would have been to simply lie down in the shadowy shelter of a cave and wait for the great weakness to take him … and yet, whenever he felt its nearness, he redoubled his efforts in a frenzy, gulping down any foul carrion he could find while he searched for more substantial food.
The kampong was asleep and only the odd solitary snatch of birdsong broke the silence. Haji prowled slowly around the perimeter of the village, once, twice, three times, keeping cover every inch of the way, but coming close enough to the open to allow the sunlight to dapple his striped hide occasionally. At last, his persistence was rewarded. A slight movement in the doorway of one of the huts, caused him to flatten himself down against the ground. He watched intently as an old male Upright emerged from within and came slowly down the steps, carrying a water bucket. The Upright moved off to Haji’s right, heading for the nearby stream and his stooped figure was lost for a moment, as he passed behind the hut of his closest neighbour. Without a moment’s hesitation, Haji slunk out from cover and followed in direct pursuit, slipping beneath the stilts of the closest building and moving from one to another as he followed his intended prey. The old Upright was not a fast mover and soon Haji was just a few yards behind him, well-placed and confident of a quick kill. He resolved to let the old one walk on to the stream where there would be less chance of discovery.
The Upright moved out beyond the last hut and passed through an area of secondary jungle. He kept glancing about as though he was aware of the cat’s presence, but Haji kept well out of sight and after a few moments, the Upright reached the water. The stream had grown fat and turbulent after the recent rains. The Upright got down onto his knees and lowered his bucket beneath the surface, watching blankly as it filled with water. He had not particularly wanted to get up early and fetch the water, but he was old and slow now and had to prove to his family that he was capable of doing something. He had detected an air of quiet resentment from his son lately, a resentment fuelled by the expense of providing for an infirm father. The old man was proud and eager to show that his worsening rheumatism had not made him completely redundant. He hefted the water bucket and a dull ache rivered through his back, wrenching an involuntary grunt from him. He was about to rise, but an abrupt powerful impact struck his leg. He could feel the sharp sting as twin sets of spikes clamped deep into the thin flesh of his right shin. His immediate impression was that he had inadvertently set his leg down into a gin trap, but then there was a sudden backward jerk that was of such strength, that it pulled his other leg from under him and he flopped down, head first into the stream. He thrashed about in the water for an instant and then another wrench brought him out of the water and up onto the bank. Bewildered, the old Upright twisted around, coughing and spluttering, to see that a tiger had him by the leg. He let out a scream of pure terror and then, realizing that he still held the heavy iron bucket in his grasp, he struck out with it, bringing it across the tiger’s head with a dull clang. The cat leg go his hold momentarily and reeled aside with a blast of rage, his senses reeling. The Upright scrambled instinctively towards the water, dragging his useless leg behind him, but the tiger leapt forward, snatched the Upright by the nape of his neck and shook him viciously, like a terrier shaking a rat. Neck bones shattered and the Upright went limp, his hand still clenched tightly around the handle of the bucket.
Haji bore the kill unsteadily away. The blow from the bucket had temporarily affected his balance and he stumbled fitfully along, determined not to let go of the meat he had killed. The bucket kept getting caught on various obstacles and the noise of its incessant clanking was a constant aggravation. Behind him, Haji could hear the commotion of shouting voices, the pounding of feet through vegetation. With a supreme effort, he hefted the old Upright’s torso as far above the ground as he could and made off with all the speed he could muster, quickly losing himself in the dense jungle that bordered the stream.
* * *
BOB WAS asleep and dreaming about Melissa Tremayne when the sudden commotion awakened him. There was a flurry of bangs on the front door, a child’s voice shouting his name. The mattress creaked as Lim got out of bed. He peered blearily at her, but she turned her back on him as she struggled into her dressing gown. She was always being secretive with him these days. He shrugged, rubbed at his eyes as she hurried out of the room. That dream now, Melissa Tremayne. What the hell had been happening? He couldn’t remember it now. Funny how that sometimes happened. They’d been on the beach again, the place where the turtles came to lay their eggs and she’d just been telling him something … but what the hell had it been…?
Voices from outside. A young boy talking excitedly, jabbering away. “Harimau, harimau!” Bob came awake in an instant. He slipped out of the bed, grabbed his clothes, and began dressing himself quickly. After a few moments, Ché burst into the room.
“Oh, Tuan … excuse me!”
“No bother! What’s the story, kid?”
>
“The man-eater. He killed an old man in Kampong Panjang, just by the stream there.”
“How long ago?”
“Maybe … half-hour. I borrowed a bike to get here.”
“Good boy! That gives us a real edge.”
“Yes, but Tuan, I saw him, I saw which way he went!”
“The hell you did! Okay. Ché, you’d better come along with me.” Bob snapped one hand up to trace the cool metal of his medallion. “I feel lucky today,” he observed. “You go and wait for me in the Land Rover. Put your bicycle in the back, I won’t be a moment—” Ché grinned with pleasure and raced out of the room. Bob put on his jungle boots and laced them up. Then he fumbled in the drawer of a nearby cabinet and began to fill his pockets with bullets. He became suddenly aware that Lim was watching him from the doorway, a look of apprehension on her face.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.”
She nodded. “Yes … but last night, you said we could talk this morning.”
Bob sighed.
“I know that, love, but I couldn’t have any idea that this would happen, could I? And last night, I was too tired to do anything but sleep.…” He gazed at her. “What’s all this about anyway? You’re always wanting to have a talk these days. It’s not like you.…” He buttoned up his pockets, picked up his hat from the chair beside the bed.
“You make it so hard to speak,” murmured Lim sadly.
“Well look, I’ve got to go now. We can talk when I get home.”
“Then you’ll be too tired!” she retorted.
“For Christ’s sake, Lim, what’s wrong with you?” he snapped.
“Cannot you not guess?” she asked him.
He shook his head in exasperation. “Look, Lim, I haven’t got time for guessing games. I’ve got a tiger to hunt. We’ll talk about it later.” He pushed past her and took three steps towards the door.
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