The Last Tiger Read online

  ‘So what would it involve? What would she have to do?’ asked Felix, running a hand over his thick grey hair. Giles began subconsciously rubbing his own, bald, scalp.

  Patrick put down his cup. ‘Hang on. Both of you. This is moving way too quickly.’

  Giles wondered aloud where Patrick got his character. Certainly he cut an intimidating figure, as did his father, but he had none of Felix’s composure or self-assurance. Giles knew he had hit a nerve, and Patrick looked ready to kill.

  ‘Steady, Pad. Okay Giles, let’s cut the crap. Describe exactly what the favour would involve.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not a favour, Felix. It’s the price.’

  ‘Okay, the price then. Same difference to me.’

  ‘I would need access to all her medical records, she would then have to be quarantined at Whitegate. When I am satisfied Bee poses no risk she will meet with the boy. Providing he doesn’t try to kill her, I would then want her to spend time with him under observation. Live with him for a while, perhaps.’

  ‘Kill her? A joke in poor taste, I assume,’ said Felix

  ‘Indeed,’ agreed Giles, quietly.

  ‘Even if I give in, her mother will never agree,’ said Patrick, ‘I’m sorry Dad, but she won’t.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her. Think of the boy, Pad. What if he were your son? It’s a first step. It’s not such a bad offer.’

  ‘First step to what exactly?’ enquired Giles.

  Felix shrugged, ‘Well, you can’t keep him forever, he’ll have to come out at some point.’

  ‘Will he?’ said Giles, derisively. Recognising his own pompous tone and not wishing to aggravate, he added, ‘Of course. He will integrate eventually.’

  ‘Quarantine?’ Patrick’s voice trailed slowly, ‘I mean, she has school and things… you know, quarantine? How long?’

  Giles could not help himself, ‘The boy’s quarantine is for a total of six months…’

  ‘Six months! She can’t. No way. I’m saying no. No, no, no. Sorry Dad.’

  ‘I said the boy. Hers will probably be no longer than ten days, it depends entirely on what illnesses she’s already had, how fit and well she is. The boy needs special protection, of course, and so Bee will have to follow lab procedures… in her dress and so on…’

  ‘But she will be safe? I mean there is no real risk, right? Not from him or catching something from him?’

  ‘None. We can be certain the only risk is to the boy’s health, and as I have said we are taking all necessary precautions. I wish to say this to you Patrick, that you must not feel pressured into making a decision,’ Giles softened with effort but not without purpose, ‘Certainly, let us not forget that it was you who chose to approach me, yet I can appreciate your perspective. Although not a father myself I quite understand your worries for Bee, your reluctance, therefore, to help the boy.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to help him…’

  ‘Of course. Not at all what I was suggesting. You have the boy’s interests at heart, after all that is what brought you to me…’

  ‘When can she start?’ said Felix.

  ‘Dad! She’s not your daughter.’

  ‘As soon as you give the word.’ Giles was about to comment that Felix seemed very keen to commit another man’s child, but thought better of goading when the unexpected prize was so nearly in the bag.

  As if reading Giles’ thoughts, Felix turned to his son, ‘I was just asking. Of course it is up to you, Pad. What do you take me for?’

  ‘Take your time Patrick,’ Giles added with the silkiness of a worm, ‘you don’t have to decide today. Perhaps you should speak with your wife… someone to guide you…’

  Patrick thought for a moment. His face set determinedly, ‘No. Bee will want to do it. Dad’s right. I’ll talk to her mum.’

  ‘So we are agreed, gentlemen?’

  Patrick nodded and Felix thanked his son, as did Giles. Standing up, Giles moved promptly to usher the unwelcome guests from his home, ‘Follow me, gentlemen. If you could give me your telephone number, Felix, I will be in touch tomorrow.’

  The remains of morning tea were placed on the tray.

  Giles moved swiftly through the house, ‘One more thing. You will never again come here. From now on you must wait for me to contact you, and if we need to see each other we shall meet somewhere neutral, do you understand? This is my home, a private place, and I do not welcome intrusion.’ Opening the door, he urged them out with a wave of a hand, ‘Until tomorrow, gentlemen.’

  Giles suddenly threw his head back and grumbled loudly. Two men in dark suits, each carrying a bible and a magazine, strode up the garden path. Quickly, he shut the door. His patience had been tested enough.

  THE WORDS

  Another day. The boy turned to the clear wall, seeing through it properly for the first time that morning, finally noticing one amongst the group who had been watching him. He froze, looking for a moment as if his mind were thrown back in time, confused by what he saw in relation to where he was seeing it. As he approached, one or two instinctively backed away despite the barrier between them, but the one who had caught his eye came to meet him.

  Bee placed a hand on the Perspex, hoping he would do the same. She did not entirely understand what she had seen in the video she’d watched the night before, but she had recognised that killing the macaque was not a malicious act. There was something crucial in the way the boy had done it, a sense of vital significance visible in the muscles of his face. Giles had spoken in exactly this grown-up way, telling them all to look for it; he never amended his language for the benefit of Bee. So she had looked and it was there, the complicated expression described. It brought tears to her eyes. But another guest, some young woman with too much make-up and a whining tone that grated, declared that by killing the monkey, the boy had behaved no better than an animal. We’re all animals, Bee thought. Idiot. She thought of Pappy, always so clear on this fact.

  To discover it was Pappy who had been keenest for her to work with Giles was such a shock Bee had asked her parents to repeat themselves almost ten times over. When finally it sunk in and the excitement settled she worried about being with him. But from the outset Giles was different. He spoke with her directly and not at all in the patronising way of some of the scientists she’d met. After her father left Whitegate, staying only three nights to settle her in until her mother could come, Bee found Giles’ newly approachable manner made her feel almost comfortable, contrasting sharply with the feelings of embarrassment and inadequacy he’d roused in her on Pulau Tua. During a late night talk she’d told her mother this. Her mother’s response had made sense: Giles, she said, is in his element now. On the island, he was out of his depth. People act differently when they are afraid, and from what I hear, I believe he was. Her mother had fallen silent then, Bee also. They must not forget or forgive what he had done – this is what silence meant. Despite it all, Bee felt sure she could never properly like him. She didn’t want to; the very idea of it horrified her. But at least now she could tolerate him.

  Quarantine for Bee was almost over and during the previous night, lying in bed inside Whitegate, staring at the ceiling following the unlikely footage, her homesick-induced wakefulness was compounded by uncomfortable thoughts regarding the dead monkey. Her thoughts were more ill formed feelings of unease than conclusive opinions weighting her view. There was no new, unwelcome bias. Lying in the darkness, Bee remained as keen as ever for morning to come, desperate as she was to see him. But now, standing on the opposite side of the see-through wall, shoulder to shoulder with strangers that she was not sure she liked, Bee found herself to be a reluctant voyeur.

  ‘Where are his own clothes, I mean the cloth, you know, and the bits of fur and things?’ she asked Giles, quietly. Bee had brushed and tied her hair well that morning, deliberate preparation for seeing the boy, but already wisps were freeing themselves and dangling about her face.

  ‘The gown is more appropriate for our purposes. Fo
r now, at least. He’ll get them back eventually,’ Giles replied.

  ‘He looks so different like that. Strange.’

  ‘I suppose he does.’

  Bee looked at Giles. There was a question she wanted to ask but couldn’t be sure if she should. Her mother had said ask it, but still it felt hard to say.

  ‘A problem?’ Giles enquired.

  She took a breath, insides tickly with nerves. ‘Why do you want to study him?’

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t reply, that she had said something wrong, but after staring at her for a long few seconds, Giles spoke. ‘To see who he is.’

  Bee mumbled a noise suggesting she was satisfied with this answer. But she wasn’t.

  Before she could ask anything more, Giles continued, ‘I imagine you know that a donkey is a species of horse, a member of the Equus genus?’

  She didn’t, but she nodded.

  ‘And a regular horse, the sort you might ride, is also a species of Equus. The two together can make a mule, but mules are not a species because they can’t reproduce. Do you see?’

  Bee said nothing.

  ‘So that is the sort of thing we are looking at on a technical level, but it’s good to know other stuff too. Like how he sees us, what he does in certain situations and so on. Okay?’

  Confused but not willing to show it, Bee smiled.

  Giles moved away as the boy threw himself back into what looked like play. For a moment Bee was disappointed. He had come forward but not put his hand to hers.

  The room the boy used that morning was not his own. For reasons unexplained, he had been placed in the empty monkey enclosure. Bee’s disappointment at her hand being ignored dissolved to nothing as she watched him roll away and explore the cage, lifting his own body weight easily as he clambered up ropes and poles. His strength and flexibility were incredible to her, bringing to mind the monkey bars in the school playground and what now seemed her own inadequate performance there.

  Bee had already viewed his usual room, when he was not in it, but seeing him here she suddenly understood it was too clinical and bare for a person who had lived their entire life in a wilderness of trees. Perhaps bringing him here was part of a greater plan, for she had discovered that Giles Patterson never did anything without purpose. Being at Whitegate revealed a world Bee had not known existed, where adults showed things and talked and tested because they wanted something. Like school, but different.

  Periodically the boy ceased activities and returned to her, standing a few feet away, watching. She did not know what it was that made him stare so intently, but occasionally he would step forward and gently tap the glass in front of her eyes and make her blink. Then he would smile broadly, revealing large teeth, only to tumble away once more.

  *

  Not long before Bee and the boy finally met without anything to separate them, a dentist came to evaluate his teeth. Heavily sedated and strapped to a chair with his mouth wedged open the boy looked every bit the darted animal, rousing affectionate sympathy from those who saw him.

  Shrouded in pale green with a large white mask, the tiny and extremely excited dentist began her assessment without ceremony. Alongside Giles, Bee observed from beyond the ever present partition, watching as deft hands carefully prodded inside the boy’s crowded mouth, tugging and pushing each tooth, tapping, counting, swabbing, as an equally small but impassive assistant smoothly juggled suctioning saliva and note taking. Bee’s own jaws ached in sympathy and just when the examination seemed to her as if it would never end, the anaesthetist emerged from the background and started shuffling about his patient as the dental assistant began clearing up. It was over. The dentist affectionately patted the drowsy boy on the cheek.

  Outside the room, free from her oversized medical garb, the dentist approached Giles with such a look of levity that her aging face glowed in a revival of youthful enthusiasm, her greying head shaking with delighted wonder. Bee watched anxiously as the boy was wheeled away to the recovery suite, knowing he never left the safety of the sterile inner rooms but wishing with all her heart that he could. She was desperate to be with him properly. His obvious vulnerability made her uneasy, as did everything she had seen so far, for although people were kind to him, it was as if he were a wilful pet. She turned to listen to the assessment. The dentist could hardly contain herself.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself, Marlene.’ Giles beamed, with the pleasure of expectation.

  ‘I am. It is very interesting Giles. Very interesting indeed, potentially.’

  ‘Potentially?’

  ‘Well, we must not jump to conclusions, must we?’

  ‘Of course not, but I think it is safe to assume some differences, old girl. Don’t you think? The boy’s markings don’t wash off, you know.’ He chuckled and Bee heard the same pompous tone he’d used on the island. Was he frightened now? She didn’t think so. Excited perhaps.

  Marlene grinned, ‘And nor do moles, freckles or tattoos my dear friend.’

  Giles laughed, ‘Or hair, teeth, nails…’

  Bee wondered at the word dance, wishing they would just talk sensibly. Giles was normally so straightforward.

  Marlene’s grin widened, pink gums shining, ‘That maybe so, Giles, that maybe so; but back to business. There are indeed a few notable things about this young man, and so thank you for asking me to come and see him. It really is a once in a lifetime opportunity to examine such an unusual specimen.’

  ‘And what did you find?’

  ‘A great deal, in short. Firstly, his are all adult teeth. There are no deciduous teeth left at all so either your estimation of his age is way off the mark or his dentition is unusually mature.’

  Bee felt a surge of surprise. There had been no mention of his age to her.

  ‘It is not totally unheard of, of course,’ Marlene continued, ‘for a boy of this age, what did you say… around ten or so… to have all permanent teeth, but it is very unusual. How did you arrive at that number, Giles?’

  ‘With great difficulty. He showed us. Pictures. I have no doubt about what he was telling us.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I am convinced. I think he’s pulling your leg.’

  As they talked Bee stood open mouthed. Ten years old. It was not possible. He was too big. Yes, he was a boy and not a man, but ten?

  ‘What would you expect to see, Marlene? Ordinarily.’ Giles manoeuvred them all to a seating area with lockers where the dentist had stored her personal belongings. Bee was captivated.

  ‘I would expect mixed dentition. Adult incisors, adult first molars, possibly emergent adult canines but still with some deciduous molars – what many people call milk teeth. Of course what is amazing is not only does he have all his permanent teeth, but they are all fully erupted, apart from one group which I will come to shortly.’ Marlene sat down and removed the plastic covers from her shoes, ‘As you said on the phone, he has slightly elongated canines but a little elongation is not that uncommon in the general populace, therefore we must not feel too excited by that particular variance.’

  Marlene spoke in the same manner as Giles, Bee observed. She didn’t mind.

  ‘It’s the boy’s first molars that are truly interesting, Giles, for they really are most unusual. They have what is known as the cusp of Carabelli, basically an extra cusp to the tooth, and it’s quite pronounced on each affected tooth although doesn’t seem to be causing any problems. The upper and lower teeth in question fit together very nicely. Given that you believe him to be a hunter, it would be a useful adaptation for chewing raw meat and so on.’

  ‘Like carnassials in big cats?’

  ‘With a stretch of the imagination, I suppose.’

  Giles’ face flushed with excitement, but he was puzzled, ‘It is not unknown amongst the general population though, is it? I mean I assume… as the condition has a name…’

  ‘Oh yes. You are quite right, Giles, I certainly wouldn’t want to mislead you about its rarity. Carabelli’s cusp
is an anomaly that about two percent of the population share. But I should tell you that personally I have never before seen a cusp with quite such extended growth.

  ‘Of course in terms of new discovery, the problem I can see you have is this: a sample of one means very little, interesting as the boy’s anatomy is. As you know, even if he is genetically different and even if these presentations are fundamental, it’s hard to prove with a sample of one. You need more, Giles, further evidence that this boy is truly representative of a people and not just the equivalent of a two headed snake.’

  Bee bristled, feeling the boy was being belittled, and with Giles’ response she felt a chill creep across her shoulders and slide down her back.

  ‘Actually, my man is gathering examples as we speak, although apparently it is not proving to be an easy task, far from it in fact. One body so far.’

  ‘Oh?’ the dentist began to gather her belongings.

  ‘Finding the damn things is near impossible. He found this single set of remains near what appears to be a fairly recent camp, probably some connection with the boy I shouldn’t wonder, but nothing else. The body was partially buried, apparently, right underneath a bush of all places. From what I gather, my man was lucky to stumble on it, but I doubt we will ever know for certain what it was all about,’ Giles shook his head, ‘Damn shame we’ve only got the boy left.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sadly yes. No doubt about it.’

  ‘What about burial sites? You obviously haven’t found any, but there must be some, although I don’t think it is entirely moral to dig up another people’s dead, Giles, even a lone body beneath a bush.’ Bee noticed an uncertain tone edging Marlene’s voice. She studied the woman’s face as she continued talking, ‘Every person has a place they draw a line, of course, and everyone is different. I know that as well as the next person.’

  Bee couldn’t understand what was meant, but she noticed Marlene’s face sadden while glancing back in the direction of where they had just come from, in the direction of the boy.

  ‘That maybe, Marlene, but you needn’t fret. So far there is only the one.’