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.
“Give him a different one, Lydia,” says William quietly. “He can read quite well.”
“Oh!” Lydia colors. “Well, we’re a bit low today.”
Ren feels sorry for her, being chided like this. Yet the hopeful shine in her eyes says she doesn’t mind. She hands over a book with a girl’s name, Jane Eye or something like that. Who’s Jane and what’s wrong with her eye? Ren thinks. There’s another one, a slim volume that slips out. Heart of Darkness. But Lydia seizes it swiftly, “Oh no, dear. Not that one.”
But Ren catches that electric tingle. It’s moving again, coming to the doorway. His girl from the party, her gaze serious, searching for Ren. And when she sees him, her face lights up.
* * *
Ren is happy. Very happy. She sits next to him, not wearing blue today, but a crisp white cotton dress. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she says, pouring a glass of water for him. William and Lydia are down at the other end of the empty ward, Lydia ostensibly recataloging the books in her cart. Ren catches brief snatches of their conversation. But it doesn’t concern him, because Ji Lin is sitting on the chair next to his bed, smiling at him.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
Ren wants to reassure her that he is much, much better, but a numbing weakness grips him. He gasps, soundlessly. Ji Lin stares at his ashen face in consternation.
“You don’t look well. Shall I get the nurse?”
No, he doesn’t want her to leave, but he can feel it dropping, that blurry grey veil that paralyzes and drifts him away. Back to that other place where he hasn’t finished his task. Alarmed, Ji Lin glances at William and Lydia, deep in conversation at the other end of the ward. The tension in William’s shoulders forbids interruption.
“I’ll get the Sister,” Ji Lin says, jumping up in her quick, boyish way. In the far corner of the ward, William’s head jerks, surprised at her sudden exit.
Lydia tilts her face closer to his. They look nice together, standing by the window. Her mouth moves. What is she saying, that makes William’s expression go hard, his mouth a thin line?
“—know about Iris,” she says.
That’s the name of the lady that William is always writing letters to. Those cream-colored letters on thick, soft paper that dents when you press a fingernail into it. William doesn’t look happy.
“Let’s not talk about this now,” he says, turning away.
“Then when?” She’s following him, careless about being overheard now since it’s only Ren left in the ward. “We’re the same, you and I,” she says. Her eyes glisten, though whether it’s with tears or some other emotion, Ren can’t say. “I want to help. Please, let me help.”
William gives her a forced smile. “I need to go.”
Lydia stares after his retreating back. A breeze through the open windows makes the white curtains flutter; it’s so quiet that you can hear the clock in the corridor ticking. Awkwardly, Lydia wheels her book trolley back between the empty beds. She pauses at Ren’s bed as if she wants to question him, but at that moment Ji Lin returns. She looks troubled, her eyes downcast.
Lydia gives her a long, sideways glance. “You’re Louise, aren’t you?” she says.
A brief pause. “Yes.”
“I was wondering how you knew Mr. Acton.”
“I don’t know him. He just happened to be passing the station this morning and gave me a ride.”
Lydia doesn’t seem quite satisfied with this answer and asks several more questions. Where she works, what her family does, how old she is. Ji Lin is polite but guarded.
“May I ask why you want to know?”
Dazed, Ren stares weakly at their two profiles. One with fair, curling hair, the other with cropped dark bangs.
“I was just curious about your … job. Whether you had any troubles or needed help.” At the word troubles, Lydia’s eyes sharpen with concern. But Ji Lin is careful, saying only that she works part-time at a dance hall, and it’s all right.
Lydia studies her for a moment. “Well, let me know if you ever need a friendly ear. I’m interested in helping local girls find jobs, so they can better themselves. There are so many jobs that girls can do nowadays, if men would only let them.”
“Thank you.” Her words touch a chord, for Ji Lin’s dark eyes go soft and she looks genuinely touched. “That’s very kind of you.”
“We women must stick together—in fact, I teach health classes to the girls on the rubber estates.”
“What sort of classes?” Ji Lin looks interested.
“Well, mostly basic healthcare, feminine needs.” An understanding look passes between them. “If you need any supplies, let me know. It’s one of the ways I can do some good stuck out here. By the way,” Lydia lowers her voice, “be careful around Mr. Acton.”
“Why?”
“He’s—well, odd things happen around him. Have you noticed?”
A curious expression appears on Ji Lin’s face. “What sort of things?”
“Those who get involved with him tend to be unlucky. Especially young women.”
* * *
William inhales sharply. His stomach hurts, leaning over the white porcelain sink in the washroom, both hands gripping its slippery surface. A burning, twisting sensation. He lifts his pale, sweaty face, staring at the mirror.