In the Mouth of the Tiger (25 page)

Closer to home, one of my friends at the Convent once told a dreadful tiger story that had given me nightmares for weeks on end. She told it to a group of us sitting cross-legged on the lawn between the Baby House and the sea as late afternoon shadows gathered under the frangipani trees. Her father had been an assistant manager at an isolated rubber plantation in Johore. One night her mother woke to hear a curious snuffling and a padding sound coming from the lounge of their bungalow. Thinking one of the village dogs had got in and was looking for food, she took a walking stick and raced into the lounge, intending to send it packing. They had no electricity but the moon was so bright that she hadn't bothered to light a lantern. Imagine her shock when she was confronted not by a cringing dog but by the biggest tiger she had ever seen. Petrified with fear, she had stood silent and helpless as the beast walked arrogantly past her and entered her children's bedroom. Then her screams had brought her husband, his gun in his hand. But after sniffing both the sleeping children, the tiger had simply bounded out the open window of the nursery to disappear into the jungle. It was only next morning that they learnt it had already killed two women from the kampong that night, and had then gone on to kill a sleepy rubber tapper going out to work in the grey light of dawn.

Denis took me to a play at Princes Theatre that evening. I have no idea what the play was about because I spent the two hours of darkness during the performance marshalling my spirits. I knew that we would be planning the trip to the jungle later that evening, and I was determined that Denis would not find me a whining, frightened child unworthy to be taken into the ulu but a bright-eyed girl mustard-keen to be coming along.

‘What about this tiger you mentioned?' I asked casually as we sipped coffee at Aladdin's after the play.

Denis chuckled. ‘Krani Hondai is a panic merchant,' he said. ‘Apparently, one of the local tigers has been a bit too active for his liking. Killed a few dogs too old to get out of its way, and frightened one or two women on their way to get water from the river. So he's asked us to pot the poor beast as a precaution.'

‘And will you?' I asked.

‘Probably,' Denis replied. ‘But I'll take a jolly good look at it first. It's only the older beasts, or those with some problem like a gammy leg, who deign to prey on humans. If it's a fit and healthy animal I'll pat Krani Hondai on the back and tell him not to be an old woman.'

‘If you do have to shoot it, how exactly will you go about it?' I asked. I had a rough idea from reading adventure stories, but now the technical details were important.

‘The Temiar will have a pretty good idea where it has its favourite lair. My guess would be smack in the middle of a local patch of durian trees, because tigers are addicted to the fruit. The Temiar will build Pat and me a platform in an appropriate tree, we'll tie up a goat underneath to attract the tiger, and then simply wait for it to come along.' He paused thoughtfully. ‘We'll take a good look at it before we shoot, Nona. Don't worry that we'll bag the thing if it isn't necessary.'

I obviously did look worried, but it wasn't concern for the tiger. ‘Where exactly will I be when all this is happening?' I asked.

‘Safe and sound in Krani Hondai's longhouse,' Denis said with a grin. ‘Being mighty well looked after by Anjang, if I know the young lady.'

I took a deep, deep breath. Bright-eyed girl, mustard-keen to be involved. ‘I'll be with you on the platform or I'm not coming,' I said as firmly as I could. ‘You can't expect me to walk all that way into the ulu and then let you go off with Pat and hog all the fun.'

Denis reached out and tweaked my nose gently. ‘You really are a little tiger yourself, aren't you?' he said. ‘It's probably why I love you so very much.'

Denis spread out a survey map on the café table. ‘We're going to make this a bit of a holiday,' he said. ‘The closest point to the Telom is a hill station at Cameron Highlands, so I thought we might spend a day or two up there playing golf before we go into the jungle. There's a delightful new place to stay, the Smoke House Inn. All mullioned windows and roaring log fires. More Olde England than England itself.'

‘While we're up there I'd like to pop in on a tea plantation I used to own near Tanah Rata,' I said casually. ‘Would you mind?' It was a delicious feeling to lean back in my chair, the picture of studied elegance, looking for the surprise on Denis's face. This young lady is more than meets the eye, I could imagine him thinking.

‘Burnbrae? Robbie's old place? There was some talk he'd left the estate
to you. Of course we must drop in and see how it's going.'

My mind was of course on Happy Valley. I really would walk down that track again to the smiling meadowland below. And Denis would be by my side.

Denis ran his finger across the survey map eastwards from Tanah Rata, the small town at the top of Cameron Highlands. ‘We have about a twenty-mile walk down the Telom Valley to the Temiar settlement. We'll spend a couple of days there dealing with Krani Hondai's tiger and a seladang or two, then raft down the Telom and the Lipis rivers to Kuala Lipis. Ismail will have to drive the car around and pick us up. He'll hate that because it will mean he won't be able to come into the jungle with us, and he fancies himself as my gun-bearer.'

Rafting down jungle rivers, gun-bearers – images from a hundred books I'd read began dancing before my eyes and I found myself actually looking forward to our expedition despite the tiger. I looked around the crowded café, and it suddenly seemed immensely sad to me that all these people would never see the emerald world of the Temiah, where the elusive sun bears live and little Malayan elephants graze on exotic orchids.

Denis wanted me to get in a few early nights and dropped me home about eleven o'clock. As soon as I opened the front door I knew that Tanya must have dropped her bombshell.

‘You are a viper at my breast!' Mother was shouting. ‘I bring you up from a spotty child to a gracious woman, provide you with a home, give you your own salon to manage, and what do I get in return? Betrayal! You run off with my closest friend, leaving me broken-hearted and alone . . .'

‘Hardly alone,' Tanya said tartly. ‘Nona will still be with you.'

‘And who will manage Salon Tanya? I am to learn new tricks at my age? Get up at dawn to open our doors? Learn how to perm hair . . .'

‘Of course I will still run the salon,' Tanya said, with just a hint of uncertainly in her voice. ‘I would not leave you in the lurch, Julia. You know I would never do that. I owe you far too much.'

‘A few weeks as the high and mighty Mrs Eugene Aubrey, and you will tire of our poor salon, Tanya. You know it and so do I. What will I do then? People come to Salon Tanya because of you. When you leave, our custom will be cut by half.'

I suddenly felt desperately tired, the excitement of the day having drained me completely. All I wanted to do was to slip quietly to my room,
block out the shouting and the drama, and go to sleep. But of course I couldn't. Both the claims of sibling loyalty and of self-interest dictated that I make an appearance. After all, I would soon have to go through the same business with Mother when the time came for me to leave.

‘My poor Nona,' Mother gasped when I appeared. ‘It is such sad news I do not know how to tell you. Our happy home and our little business are to be torn apart! Tanya is leaving us. She is going to marry Eugene, who I thought was my loyal friend!'

I put my arms around Mother but gave Tanya an encouraging smile over her shoulder. ‘I suppose we have to face the fact that Tanya has her own life to lead,' I said. ‘I'm sure we'll manage, Mother. It's not the end of the world.'

Mother abruptly shoved me to arm's length. ‘So. You are on her side, perhaps? You have discussed this together, have you not? And I am the last to know! Such ingratitude from both of you.'

I really didn't know what to say to that and so sighed with assumed exasperation. Then I had a minor brainwave. We Russians, in these sorts of circumstances, tend to fall back on a bit of emotion to clear the air. I straightened my back. ‘I am ashamed of you, Mother,' I said firmly. ‘You of all people! This is Tanya's most important day, the day she tells the world that she has found her love and will be getting married. But what do you do? You who have been her loving mother all these years? Instead of wrapping her in your arms and kissing her for joy you think only about yourself and your salon.'

Mother stared at me, uncomprehending, so I pressed my point. ‘Rather than fighting, shouldn't we be celebrating?' I asked. ‘After all, Tanya has been a part of our family for so long. She looks on you as her mother, and on me as her sister. She has no other family in the world who can lift a glass to her on her engagement, and wish her a happy life.'

Mother continued to stare at me blankly, and for a second or two I thought my tactic had failed. Then her breath caught in her throat and she rushed to Tanya, taking her in her arms. ‘My baby!' she cried. ‘I have been so thoughtless and so selfish, thinking only of myself! I should have been thinking of you, and blessing the gods that at last you have found a man who will make you happy!'

Even Tanya was caught off guard, and while she disentangled herself quickly from Mother's embrace I saw her wipe a tear from her eye.

A lot of tears were shed in the next hour or so. We opened a bottle of vodka, and toasted Tanya, and Eugene, and their wedding. We did it properly,
with a pinch of salt on the tongue between each tiny glass of the fiery liquid. Then Mother put on a Russian dance record and we danced with each other in turn. Towards the end my head was swimming and it was all I could do to stay upright. I gave Tanya a final embrace and headed for my room. For hours I heard them, two maudlin half-drunks singing together in soft discord in our kitchen.

But at least Mother had accepted the situation. It only remained for me to make my own escape with as little bloodshed.

Chapter Ten

I
told Mother about the trip into the Telom Valley at breakfast the next morning, and she was of course horrified. ‘Into the jungle? You are going to go into the jungle and camp there? You are mad, Nona. And Denis is more than mad to let you do this. Is he trying to get you killed?'

‘I want to see the high ulu,' I said. ‘And this is the only way I'll ever get to see it. I believe it is beautiful, Mother. There are green meadows, and strange birds and animals, and exotic flowers. It is a lost Eden complete with its noble savages, the Temiar.' I didn't mention the tiger: that would have been much too much for Mother to handle.

‘Malcolm has his faults, but he would never have let you risk your life in the forest,' Mother grumbled. ‘I really do not understand this Denis of yours. If he loves you as much as you say he does, how come he can risk your life, just for a whim, to see some jungle full of savages?'

Mother would never understand how it was between Denis and me. Not in a thousand years. We were playing a game. A brilliant game, full of dazzling colours, and movement, and the spice of danger, but a game nevertheless.

Then Mother waved her hand dismissively. ‘But you do what you like. I have too much on my mind to worry about your silliness.' She emptied an aspirin powder into a glass of water and stirred it with her finger. ‘While you are in this Eden of yours I will be fighting to keep our business together. I do think Tanya could have waited a year or two, but young people today are so thoughtless . . .'

We left the following Monday, Ismail picking me up in the Ford just after breakfast on a cool, clear morning that promised a hot day. Denis had gone down to the Riding Club early to exercise his horses, and the arrangement was that he would collect Pat Noone on his way back so that we could get away
from Ampang Road by about nine o'clock.

‘Aren't you excited, Ismail?' I asked, getting into the front with him.

‘Every time Tuan goes into the ulu he takes me to carry his guns,' Ismail answered shortly. ‘But not this time. This time all I do is to drive the car. No, Mem, I am not excited.' He slammed the car into gear and we roared off. The gesture was slightly spoilt by the fact that there was a rickshaw directly in front of us and he had to brake immediately. Language flew between the sweating Chinese rickshaw man and the haughty Malay syce.

The syce occupied a unique role in the social order of colonial Malaya. Almost all of them were Malay, because the lifestyle appealed to the Malays' love of style and elegant indolence. Distinctive in their immaculate white jackets and black
songkok
caps, they were to be seen everywhere, either driving their tuan about with grave looks on their faces, polishing their cars outside the important buildings, or lounging with their fellow syces in dignified camaraderie while their tuans ran the country.

Their relationship with their tuan was a special one. The English in Malaya liked to think of themselves as easy-going, but they were completely outclassed in this department by the Malays, who had made indolence into an art form. As a consequence, the English admired the Malays above both the Tamils, who worked too hard, and the Chinese, who were too clever and successful by half. For their part, the Malays preferred to work – if they had to work at all – for the English, who prized nonchalance as much as they did. But the nonchalance had to be the nonchalance of minor gods, ennobled by a sense of honour. And so wise tuans gave their syces all the tasks requiring loyalty and courage, such as carrying the guns on a tiger shoot.

And then I had come along and spoilt it all.

‘Aren't you coming into the ulu with us?' I asked with affected surprise.

Ismail didn't even bother to turn to me. His answer was an elegant shrug of the shoulders.

I thought quickly. If we could hire someone in Cameron Highlands to drive the car to Kuala Lipis, Ismail would be able to come with us. I was sure Denis would agree to such a change of plan, and I cleared my throat. ‘Ismail,' I said sincerely, ‘I would feel much safer if you came into the ulu with us. Is it because you are needed to take the car to Kuala Lipis that you cannot come with us?'