“How was the old doctor at the end?” he asked.
The caretaker’s mother fixed her eyes on the grave. I’d noticed she kept glancing at the stick that was buried in it, and finally she made a sharp tch sound and pulled it out. Now I could see that it was quite a bit longer than I’d thought, part of a broom handle about four feet long, with the end sharpened like a stake.
She tossed it aside contemptuously. “Well, he was always odd, but no more than the other orang puteh. He’d buy any rare animal that a hunter brought in. A kind man, though. He treated many people for free. But towards the end, he got so strange that people didn’t want to go anymore.” The caretaker’s mother was clearly enjoying this conversation. “In fact, before he died, I heard that he went to the local police station and confessed to all sorts of crimes.”
“What sort of crimes?”
“Let’s see, I think it was cattle stealing, or killing livestock. Even dogs were taken in this area. Didn’t matter if they were chained close to the house or not. He also said he’d killed those two women who went missing. Both of them rubber tappers who worked at the nearby estate.”
Alarmed, I glanced at Shin; neither of us had expected anything like this.
“So did they arrest him?”
“They sent him home. There was something wrong with his head. He’d have these fits from time to time.” She looked exasperated. “All those things that happened, those were done by a tiger. A man-eating tiger. There were many sightings. Didn’t it come out in the newspapers?”
“That must have been terrible for you.” Shin put on his most sympathetic look, and the old lady couldn’t help simpering.
“They said it was an old male that could no longer hunt. Anyway, it’s gone now.”
“Did they get it?”
“No, although they set traps and even had a pawang come in to charm it. In the end, it just disappeared. Right around the time the old doctor died.”
My thoughts flew to the tiger in the garden, in Batu Gajah last weekend. The man-killer that they said had already taken an estate worker a few weeks ago. Unreasonably, I also recalled the salesman’s death from a broken neck and wondered if something had chased him that dark night until he fell into a ditch. But this was wild speculation. A distance of sixty miles or more separated Batu Gajah from Taiping. Could a tiger range so far?
“What’s that stick for?” asked Shin, pointing at the broom handle that she’d pulled out of the grave.
The caretaker’s mother looked embarrassed. “That’s just stupidity. From time to time it happens. Local people, you know. My son always pulls it out. He says it’s disrespectful to the dead.”
“But why do they do it?”
“Two or three days after the old doctor died, someone or something tried to dig him up. My son found a hole near the grave, like a child or an animal had been working all night. It didn’t get all the way down—we bury them deep. He sat up and kept watch for a few nights, but it never happened again. When the locals heard about it, they said the old man wanted to get out of his grave. Such rubbish, because if you’d seen the hole, it was clearly something trying to get in, not out! But from time to time, people put stakes in his grave to make sure he doesn’t come out. I’m not worried myself; I’m Church of England,” she said proudly.
The light was fading, the grey sky pressed down with almost palpable weight. I couldn’t see how we could possibly bury the finger in the grave with the caretaker’s mother hovering around like this. Would we have to come back at night? The thought filled me with unease.
Shin said, “Is there a public restroom?”
“The vestry’s still open, though I was just about to close it up.”
“Go ahead,” I said quickly. “I’d like to read the inscriptions.”
As soon as they were out of sight, I was on my knees, digging the loose earth up with the spade. Thank goodness Shin had thought to buy one! The earth on the grave was red clay from the tin ore that had made this region’s name. I chose the spot where she’d removed the stake from, since the soil was already disturbed there. Hurry! Pulse racing, I hastily scooped the earth aside, all the while keeping an eye out for the old lady’s return. It had to be deep enough that it wouldn’t be easily found, especially if people kept poking sticks into the grave.
When I’d dug about an arm’s depth in, I took out the glass bottle. It seemed colder and heavier than before. Today was the forty-eighth day since Dr. MacFarlane’s death. Had I made it in time for whatever Ren had wanted? A shadow moved at the corner of my eye. The branch of a tree, whipping in the breeze, but it spurred me into action. Lifting the finger that I’d taken from the salesman’s pocket, I dropped it deep into the hole.
41
Batu Gajah
Saturday, June 27th
Ren is walking, following the faint trail that wavers like a tiger’s stripe through the high grass. He has a vague memory of a hospital bed, but it fades. What’s real is this world of sunlight and wind, with the small pale woman, the one he found sitting in the grass. She’s the one who urges him on every time he pauses to look around.
“We mustn’t miss the train,” she says.
Ren wrinkles his brow. “Is there another one?”
She gives him a sideways look. “I don’t know. Come on!”
He doesn’t like the way she moves, her broken body inching forward, one shoulder bent and a leg dragging. No one should be able to walk with injuries like that, but he doesn’t ask about it. He’s afraid that she’ll grab his elbow again, the way she did earlier in that icy, bony clutch. But he’s sorry for her, and he can’t let her go alone. Besides, there’s a tiger in the tangle of grass and bushes. From time to time, he glimpses a lean striped shape, though whether it’s leading him on or warning him away, he can’t say. Ren has the sudden memory of an old man, a foreigner, wandering among the trees. It floods him with dread and pity and love, that dark loneliness, and he puts his head down and keeps walking.
They head towards the train station in the distance. How long have they been walking—months, days, or minutes? But at last they arrive. The train station is remarkably similar to the Batu Gajah Station. Long and low, with deep eaves to keep the rain and sun off, it has wooden benches and a large round clock. A train is waiting, the big steam locomotive gently hissing. People mill around the station, though when Ren looks at them directly, they flicker and fade away. It’s only out of the corner of his eye that he sees their blurred figures. A shadow child runs across the platform, clutching the hand of its mother who enfolds it as they climb into a carriage. For an instant, Ren envies that warm gesture.
“Hurry!” says his companion.
“Where are we going?”
She looks impatient and distracted. “Just get in!”
“I don’t even know your name.” A moment of doubt strikes him. Why should he follow this strange lady onto a train—after all, wasn’t he looking for someone else? He strains to remember. Yes, Nandani. “I can’t go with you, I’m looking for someone.”
“Don’t be silly! My name is Pei Ling,” she says. “I’m a nurse, so you ought to follow me.” But even she frowns, as though she can’t quite understand her own logic.
“No, thank you,” says Ren politely.
“Heavens! What a silly boy you are! Do come—I don’t want to go alone.” She makes a pitiful face, as though she’s the child and not him, and Ren wavers.
“All right,” he says, putting one hand on the lintel of the train door. As soon as he touches it, he feels a deep quiver, a vibration that shakes his field of vision. In that instant, he can see everyone clearly—all the other passengers who are sitting or standing or getting onto the train. But nobody gets off, and none of them have luggage.
Ren climbs in and there is Nandani, her heart-shaped face looking pensively out of the window. Delighted, Ren slides into the seat next to her. “Hello!”
But to his surprise, she looks frightened. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you.”
“No, you mustn’t! Don’t follow me.”
Ren stares at Nandani, her curling hair and plump, pretty figure. Why isn’t she happy to see him?
“Come here, little boy,” says the nurse, Pei Ling, patting the seat. “Sit next to me.”
He shakes his head. He’d rather sit with Nandani than this pale lady with her crooked shoulder and dragging walk. In fact, the more he looks at Pei Ling, the more frightened he feels. He scoots next to Nandani, but she shakes her head anxiously. “Please get off. They’ll close the doors soon.”
Ren can feel a deep low humming, as though the entire track is a live wire. Yi lies that way, somewhere at the end of that track. He’s sure of it. The two young women are arguing now in harsh whispers. Nandani wants him to leave, but Pei Ling is stubborn and says he should stay if he wants to. She reaches out to grab his hand and Nandani gives a gasp of outrage.