The Night Tiger(76)

Ah Long is disgusted that so many people have invaded his kitchen, but he wipes his hands on his grubby white apron and peers at the piece of paper.

“Wei Li An.”

“There you go.” William smiles awkwardly, wanting to get away from the kitchen and Nandani as soon as possible. “It’s my name—‘William.’”

“But what does it mean?” asks Lydia, staring at Nandani, who shrinks further into her seat.

Ah Long says something in Chinese to Ren, who nods.

“He says most Chinese names for foreigners just copy the sound of their name, but this one has a meaning.” Ren points at the middle character, the one that looks most complicated. “This word is Li. It means doing things in the proper order, like a ritual. And this one, An, means peace. If you put them together with Wei, it means ‘for the sake of order and peace.’”

The kitchen has fallen silent. Ren, raising his eyes from the paper, discovers that everyone is staring at him and looks frightened.

“Is this your houseboy?” Rawlings breaks the stillness.

William nods. Despite itching to get away from Nandani, who sits frozen, like a mouse, he’s proud of Ren’s soft-spoken, clear explanation.

“Where on earth did you find him?”

William ushers everyone out of the crowded kitchen. “It’s a long story,” he says, “best told over a stengah.”

Someone puts a record on the gramophone, and outside there’s the ebb and swell of conversation. Two guests linger in the kitchen: Lydia, who has gone over to chat with Nandani, and Rawlings. Making an excuse to the others, William returns. He has to stop Lydia from talking to Nandani, in case she sniffs out their relationship. Lydia’s good at things like that.

But when he edges into the kitchen, Lydia is already turning to go. Catching his eye, she smiles, assuming that he’s come back for her. He manages a weak grin as she passes through to the drawing room, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him.

Rawlings is still talking to Ren, and not wanting to follow Lydia or speak to Nandani, who watches him with miserable eyes, William leans against the doorway and listens to them.

“The Li in your master’s name—isn’t that one of the five Confucian Virtues?” Rawlings says.

“Yes,” Ren replies. “Actually my name is one of them, too.”

“Is that right?” says William. “Which one are you?”

“I’m Ren.” He fidgets with the cuff of his white houseboy’s uniform.

“Ren is benevolence isn’t it? Yi is righteousness, Li is ritual or order. Zhi is wisdom and Xin is faithfulness.” Rawling counts them off on his fingers as he recites, “Without Li, what is there to distinguish men from beasts?”

Ren looks impressed. “How do you know them all?”

“I studied a little.” Rawlings regards him thoughtfully. He has a surprisingly easy manner with children, unlike himself, thinks William. Of course, Rawlings has children of his own.

William sneaks a quick glance down the hallway. Lydia is still standing there, ostensibly chatting with someone. If he goes out now, she’s bound to catch him and ask all sorts of questions about why Nandani is sitting in his kitchen right now.

“Ren, Dr. Rawlings here is our chief pathologist,” says William. To his surprise, the boy gives a little twitch, like a start of recognition.

“Do you take care of the pathology storeroom? The one at the hospital?” Ren asks hesitantly. It’s not his place to question guests.

“Why, do you want to see it?” Rawlings looks amused.

Ren shakes his head. A baffled expression appears on his face, as though he’s unaccountably disappointed.

There’s a commotion at the front door.

“Ah, our visitors,” says William in relief. “Did you hear about Leslie’s surprise?”

“What is it?” asks Rawlings.

“Some dance-hall girls from Ipoh. Ren—get the door.”

But Ren is transfixed. Eyes wide, his thin, childish shoulders almost quivering. He looks like a bird dog, William thinks. Exactly like a dog that, though disappointed at first by a false lead, has now locked onto the correct scent. Then, like a small sleepwalker, Ren walks straight out of the kitchen, down the long narrow passage, and opens the front door.





27

Batu Gajah

Saturday, June 20th




There were five of us girls on Saturday night: Hui, Rose, Pearl, myself, and another girl called Anna. She usually worked Thursdays and Saturdays, so I’d never met her before. Anna was very tall—taller than me—and plump in a voluptuous way. The Mama said that she’d chosen Anna for this private party because foreigners didn’t like to stoop when they were dancing.

“Is that why you picked me as well?” I asked as we waited for the hired car. She gave me a hard stare, as though she thought I was being cheeky, though I was quite serious.

“Of course not!” said Hui, squeezing my arm. “She picked you because you’re popular.”

The car that the Mama had hired was large, though not as long and graceful as Robert’s. Anna sat in the front seat because she was the biggest, and the rest of us squeezed into the back. One of the bouncers, the one with a mole on his chin called Kiong, would be our driver and chaperone.