The Night Tiger(92)

Acton turned a blandly affable face to her. “Hello, Lydia. Didn’t know you were in today.”

Gone was the guilty distraction he’d betrayed earlier, and I realized it was because a local girl like me didn’t matter. Lydia, however, was different. She was one of his own.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, preparing to slip off. I nodded politely at Lydia—it didn’t seem right to ignore her although she was doing her best to pretend I didn’t exist—but Acton said, “Hold up. I’ll take you into the ward.”

It was no use protesting I could find my own way. He was too quick, explaining to Lydia, “She’s here to visit Ren. My houseboy, you know.”

“Is that so?” Her expression softened. “Poor boy. How is he?”

“Not well. He’s in an adult ward. Ran out of beds in the children’s ward.”

“Oh, that’s why I didn’t see him earlier when I went around with the lending library.” She turned stiffly to me. “Are you related to him?”

I nodded. It was too difficult to explain the fierce protectiveness I felt towards Ren.

“William, we must talk,” Lydia said in an undertone.

He glanced at his watch, suddenly busy. “Now’s not really a good time. I’m due on the wards.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’d like to visit your houseboy as well.”

I trailed after them as he shot me a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. Yi had said to be careful, that the fifth one was the worst of us all. What did Acton want from me?





34

Batu Gajah

Friday, June 26th




It’s Friday, but Ren has no sense of where the time has gone. He’s been ill, though ill isn’t the right word for the way he feels. More like damaged or broken. Some of the bandages have come off, including the bulky one on his left hand. The one that’s now missing a finger. The nurses didn’t want to tell him that, hemming and hawing and eventually roping a local doctor in to say those simple words to him. As if it makes any difference.

Ren longs, suddenly and inexplicably, for Dr. MacFarlane. His shaggy eyebrows, the raspy voice. He would have explained it, clearly and unsentimentally. Better to lose a finger than the whole hand. Or your life. What is it that he needs to remember about Dr. MacFarlane? An invisible counter in his brain hisses there are only two days left to keep his promise, but Ren is tired, so terribly weary that he can barely keep his eyes open. The nurses take his temperature and talk over him in hushed voices. William has been coming by twice a day.

“You’ve had a shock,” he says jovially, though his eyes are grim. “Sometimes the body needs a bit of time.”

“Did they find her?” That gnawing unease again.

“You mean Nandani? Don’t worry, she made it home that night.”

Ren shakes his head feebly. “No, she’s still wandering. Somewhere out there.”

A strained expression appears on William’s face. Abruptly, he takes the nurse aside to discuss something, warning her with a shake of his head before he leaves the ward. A low fever runs through Ren’s veins. There’s another place he urgently needs to go to, though he can never remember where it is until he’s actually asleep. He has the feeling that he’s in the middle of a journey; everything else is an interruption.



* * *



Waking, a painful sensation. The nurse takes his temperature and looks unhappy. With an effort, Ren flexes his left arm, still encased in dressings, and wonders whether he’ll still be able to work: shine shoes and iron shirts and make omelets. What if William doesn’t want him anymore? There are so many other boys who need jobs—older, stronger boys with ten fingers. Ren wishes there was someone to talk to, but the ward is empty, the other beds like white cocoons.

One of the nurses said that Ah Long came by yesterday when Ren was asleep and left a tiffin carrier of sweet red-bean soup that Ren likes so much. Did Ah Long manage to clean the whole house by himself after the party? Ren’s eyes are dry. His bones ache. Time to go, he thinks. But where?

Voices in the corridor. It’s William again, making his second visit of the day. And behind him, someone else. That buzzing thrill that he can’t forget. Ren struggles up. She’s here! The girl from the party. Down the long, whitewashed corridor, he senses her approach. His cat sense flickers, the dullness around him burns away. But she’s slowing, falling back. Why?

William enters the ward. Smiling, pleased to see Ren sitting up for once. “I’ve brought you a visitor.”

But the person who peeks out from behind William isn’t Ren’s girl in blue, but Lydia. “Hello!” she says, in that overenthusiastic tone that people who aren’t comfortable with children adopt. “I’ve brought you some books.”

She wheels in a lending trolley of books and magazines, and Ren immediately feels guilty for misjudging her. “I went by the children’s ward this morning, but I’d no idea that you were all the way over here.”

William looks at Ren’s chart and examines his dressings. Ren’s eyes stray to the book cart. Lydia picks out an alphabet book with a Ladybird logo on it. “How’s this?” she says.

Ren opens it to A stands for Ambulance Train. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to hide his disappointment.