Tiger, Tiger. Philip Caveney

up the short ladder into the house, a head that was supported by the crouching body of a tiger! This was her husband, caught in mid-transformation. What happened to the marriage at this point was generally left as a matter of conjecture. Another popular story involved a brave man, lying beneath the slain body of his wife with a kris in each hand and stabbing the tiger when it came to eat. In the morning, a well-respected villager would be found with two daggers stuck in his ribs. There were countless other stories of course, all so similar that it was a wonder the Malays believed in them as faithfully as they did. Harry had his own particular favourite and he now asked Ché to recount it for him, for he loved to observe the boy’s excitement whenever he told such a tale.

      ‘Well Tuan, since you like the story so much, I will tell you it again. In the days before the tok belang looked as he does now, he was nothing more than a wild little boy, wandering in the jungle. One day, he was befriended by a strange old man who lived in a hut alone. The old man was very kind to the boy and taught him the ways of man, how to eat properly, how to speak and wear clothes, for, of course, up to this time, the boy had been quite naked. Well, the people in the nearest kampong soon came to hear about all this and they sent a man to insist that the wild boy must go to school. The old man was sad to lose his friend, but at last he agreed and the boy was sent to the kampong school. Now, the teacher there was a very stern man and he quickly lost patience with the wild boy, for he was always fighting with the others, biting, and scratching them most cruelly. The teacher had a strong cane which he used to punish bad boys, and he warned the wild one that he must be quiet or he would suffer. But after a little while, the wild boy began to fight again and the teacher snatched up the cane, shouting, “Now I shall beat you, for you are truly nothing but a wild animal!” And he hit the boy very hard with the cane. At this instant, the boy dropped onto his hands and knees. The teacher hit him again and the boy growled. He hit him a third time and whiskers grew from his cheeks. A fourth time and a tail grew between his legs. The teacher was in a rage and he kept striking the boy, so hard that the cane scarred his body with black stripes and then, suddenly, the creature leapt to the door and ran away to the jungle, where it has remained ever since. And to this day, he carries the stripes on his back to remind him of that terrible beating.’

      Ché sat back with a smile of satisfaction, for he felt that he had told the story well. Harry applauded him gently and thought to himself, ‘Lord, how I’d miss this boy if I ever decided to go back to England.’ He sighed gently.

      ‘You are sad, Tuan?’ asked Ché, ever sensitive to the old man’s moods.

      ‘Why do you ask that?’

      ‘Oh … suddenly your face changed, as though a cloud had passed over the sun.’

      Harry chuckled. ‘You don’t miss much,’ he observed. ‘I was just thinking that many of my friends … will be going away soon.’

      Ché looked alarmed.

      ‘You will go with them?’ he cried.

      ‘No. I don’t think so.’

      ‘Good. There are many of your friends here, too. You belong here.’ Ché said this with conviction and seemed to dismiss the idea completely. Of course, the Tuan would stay. The thought of him going anywhere else was unthinkable.

      ‘I … went into Kuala Trengganu yesterday,’ announced Harry slyly.

      ‘Oh …?’ Ché tried to sound casual, but he knew that the Tuan was leading up to something. ‘It is a fine place. I have been there myself, twice.’

      ‘Yes indeed. Many fine shops …’

      Harry took a small leather box out of his pocket. Ché’s eyes lit up.

      ‘What have you there, Tuan?’ he enquired.

      ‘Oh … just something I bought.’

      ‘For yourself?’

      ‘No. For a friend of mine. I wonder if he’ll like it.’ He opened the box, removed the watch, and let it dangle on its leather fob before Ché’s eyes.

      ‘Oh, Tuan! It shines like the sun! I think your friend will like it very much.’ He gazed at Harry suspiciously for a moment. ‘Who is this friend you speak of?’ he demanded.

      ‘A very special friend of mine. A friend who tells me marvellous stories.’

      ‘Me? It is for me, Tuan? Oh, thank you!’ Ché stretched out his hand for the gift, but a sudden rush of perversity took Harry and he moved it away a little. ‘But I cannot give it to my friend yet,’ he continued.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘First, he would have to say something else for me.’

      Ché laughed merrily. ‘What must I say, Tuan? Another story?’

      Harry shook his head.

      ‘Just one word. Just to prove to me that he has his wits about him. I want him to say “tiger.”’

      Ché’s face fell.

      ‘But Tuan, I cannot! It is unlucky …’

      ‘Oh well.’ Harry feigned disappointment. ‘If you can’t say that one word …’

      ‘But Tuan …’ Ché glanced at his feet. ‘You don’t understand. It is an unlucky word. It brings down the t – the creature’s curse onto your head. Of course, I don’t really believe the old stories, but …’

      ‘You mean … I’ll have to take this marvellous watch back to the shop?’

      ‘No, I … uh … I …’ Ché fixed his gaze stubbornly to the floor, then glanced up at the glittering silver watch in Harry’s grasp. ‘Tiger …’ he mumbled, in a voice that was barely a whisper.

      ‘Oh, you’ll have to say it louder than that,’ chided Harry.

      ‘Tiger! There, Tuan, I’ve said it.’

      ‘So you have,’ admitted Harry. And he gave the watch to the boy. Ché’s misgivings were swept aside by the rush of his delight as he held the watch to his ear and listened to its ticking.

      ‘Oh, Tuan, it is a beautiful watch, the most wonderful watch ever! I can hear it ticking so loudly! Thank you, Tuan, thank you!’ He rushed to hug Harry, tears of gratitude in his eyes. ‘May I take it to show my grandmother?’

      ‘Of course!’ Harry was every bit as delighted as the boy was. Perhaps more so. Ché rushed into the house, yelling for Pawn to come and witness for herself the incredible watch. But once he was gone, Harry felt vaguely annoyed with himself. Why had he taxed the poor little devil so cruelly? Surely, in all the years he’d lived here, he’d learned that the one thing you shouldn’t fool around with were the beliefs that people held dear, no matter how ridiculous they might seem. He had enjoyed giving the present and he had simply wanted to prolong the enjoyment, but it had been a rather thoughtless method of doing so. Still, there was no harm done, he was sure of that. He settled back in his chair and closed his eyes, feeling a deep contentment settle over him. Perhaps he might manage a little nap before breakfast. Yes, why ever not? It had been a good day, so far.

      He slept and dreamed of tigers.

      Melissa gazed critically at her reflection in the hand mirror, as she methodically ran a brush through her long dark hair. She had been sunbathing on the lawn with her mother for most of the morning and had become bored to distraction. Nothing ever happened here. Sometimes she felt moved to screaming, such was her dissatisfaction. It was ridiculous, here she was, a free agent, able to do just whatever took her fancy; yet what use was such freedom when life consisted of nothing but interminable bouts of boredom? Social life in Malaya tended to consist of long periods of lounging. Of course, the background varied from time to time. One could lounge on an idyllic beach, or beside the glittering waters of the local swimming pool … well, for that matter, one could simply lounge in the back garden and have done with it.

      For the more athletically inclined, there was always tennis or squash … good