The Last Tiger

  ‘Let’s go up,’ he said, locking the wine under his arm and gathering glasses from the table. At the foot of the stairs he turned back, to collect a second bottle.

  IN THE ABSENCE OF SWEET SORROW

  Over time, Tuan’s grief manifested itself in detachment, resentment and increasing demands upon Char. Shut in a world that contained only him, alcohol and sex, he thought little of college or anything else, and when he asked Char to move in properly she was obliged to say no. She had seen too many relationships flounder into dysfunctional chaos as a direct result of alcohol abuse to even consider taking such a risk, and was equally afraid of the bitterness consuming him. He was a pet turned feral, growling and biting those trying to rally round. None of this she said to him.

  All was intensified by the fact that various sponsors courted Tuan relentlessly, using his vulnerable state and the absence of a guiding hand to cajole him into fulfilling ancient obligations, as well as agree to new, more dubious, contracts. And so for a while his own aspirations fell away as he slowly became someone else’s bitch. Constantly drunk or stoned or both, Tuan posed and preened and went to the best places, advertised endless products and was seen with the right people. The press loved it and the public couldn’t get enough. As the money slipped into his bloodstream, more deeply into his psyche, he became reliant upon it. His attempt at personal annihilation was such that he would have lost all his lucrative contracts had he been anyone else, but Tuan was the man it was not possible for others to be. Invincible he acted and invincible he was.

  Whitegate was a place he refused to go, ending all contact the moment Giles passed away; whitecoat friends abandoned. Other friends reached out and tried to help. Felix and Nan, Bee’s mum and dad, all endeavored to guide him away from the self-destructive path he was careering along, but he ignored them all and dismissed their fears as no more than fantasy. As he staggered in the dazzling limelight, Felix sagaciously offered to act as his manager, to arrange and sort and reorganise, but from Tuan came nothing but derision. Even Bee could not persuade him to join her on various trips and activities, as she tried to remind him of what it was he’d always enjoyed in life; walks, pub lunches, cinema, library. Char noted, with the resignation of one always feelings as if they are playing second fiddle, that his reaction to Bee was often the most resentful. But again, nothing of this she said to him.

  Tuan openly expressed his hatred for Boyce, repeating the same drunken declaration time and time again: the only thing stopping him from joining Giles was the wish to see Ian Boyce’s head skewered on one of the spikes on the conservatory roof. I could watch from the bedroom window, he said, as Boyce’s flesh rots and his face slides off. He made no mention of the spiritual crime of murder, or for that matter, suicide.

  It wasn’t just the prospect of a miserable and insecure future that persuaded Char to refuse Tuan, but the manner in which he had asked. He had not gone down on one knee and certainly had not asked her to marry him, just as he hadn’t spoken of their future and how he could not imagine life without her. Instead he took her by the shoulders as they passed in the kitchen and offered for her to stay with him rent-free while she studied hairdressing, alluding to the extra time they would be able to spend together in bed. It was cruel, and something shifted painfully in her chest as he spoke. His passive reaction to her refusal was worse, confirming her decision; he’d simply shrugged and yanked opened the fridge door to find another beer. Although it was possible to accept being second choice – for Char was convinced Bee was first – Char believed second-class to be totally unacceptable. The house, so beautiful and grand, representing all that mattered, was not worth it and nor was he. The price was far too high. This latter point, she did mention.

  One night, in a rare moment of trust, Char allowed Tuan to persuade her to go with him to a club. At first she refused, saying plainly that she was looking forward to spending time at home with her sisters and nieces, and her mother, time without someone badgering her for sex every five minutes or glaring at her across the room. The vacuum of tension following this statement siphoned oxygen from the air; Char’s breath felt suddenly short and she wondered if she had overstepped the mark. He was, after all, unstable. But Tuan laughed and apologized, and did such a good job convincing her that he wanted to make an effort, that she changed her mind and went.

  Despite the cold, she wore a tiny zebra print dress that showed off her figure and Tuan wore her on his arm with pride. At first he was as good as his word, but then in the early hours of the morning while the club vibrated with life, Tuan went to the bathroom and came back different.

  Without obvious reason, he was offhand and after pulling the nearest girl he could find that wasn’t Char, disappeared to a private room. With previously immaculate hair and carefully made up face now looking as jaded as she felt, Char left and found a taxi, going back to Tuan’s house alone. She packed the few things she kept there and sat outside on the doorstep for almost an hour. But even with everything that had happened, she decided it was better to stay one more night than risk making her way home to the other side of the city alone. So she went back inside, moved into a different bedroom and bolted the door. Sometime during the night Tuan returned, kicked that same door down, picked it up and rested it back in place before going downstairs, his only comment to a terrified Char that it was his house, as were all the rooms in it, and she was not entitled to lock him out of any.

  The following morning she left. Within a week her toothbrush was back in the bathroom and their relationship continued to yoyo as miserably as Tuan did himself.

  *

  Time lifted Tuan’s depression and his spiritual energy gradually returned. Functioning more normally, engaging in standard everyday activities like eating regularly and sleeping, it seemed all at once he was rejuvenated and enjoying a sense of self-worth. When it was time to finally pick up his studies again – with the backing of just one sponsor – he was a near reformed character. And so Char agreed to move in properly, rent free as offered. The whole house was at her disposal and she loved it. No more family, no more noise, just peace, quiet and a chance to live the dream without spending a penny. And things got better. Soon, Tuan left for London to return to his dream of fashion design at Central St Martin’s, and before leaving, he and Char talked. Tuan wanted to make it clear that he regretted the way he had treated her in the past, but it was also clear that whatever it was they shared was over. Char and Tuan said farewell to their long relationship in the only way they knew how, not frantically and passionately but a sustained and gentle love-making; a fond farewell. Afterwards, lying in each other’s arms, they agreed that if it were possible to be friends then they would be. They would try. He declared that Char would always be welcome to share his home, a promise she suspected was not without motive, but it was heartfelt nonetheless. While they dressed, a car waited to take him away, security cars front and back.

  As he left, curtains twitched as the infamous striped neighbour said goodbye with a long kiss to his friend, a person they had all witness change from unruly girl to glamorous young woman.

  Considered by some to be the most handsome man in the world, by others the most shocking, Tuan walked to the limousine attired as he always was, smartly dressed in his frock coat, black shirt and long, dark leather boots. As Char gave a final wave and went inside, he watched until the big blue door was all there was left to see. Turning to climb into the back of the car, one of the perks of his contract rather than something he himself had organised, Tuan caught sight of his refection in the glass. The stripes on his face and neck were darker now than they ever had been, a purer black than those of boyhood. His skin was smooth, his eyelashes thick and long, the whites of his eyes clean with irides so dark they were indistinguishable from the black of his pupil. His ivory teeth gleamed white in contrast with his mahogany skin; canines still the most obvious feature. His face had a square and even look, his over jet long since corrected by Marlene; her suggestion that it was a possi
ble indication of predatory adaptation had been fanciful. He stopped admiring himself and got in; the car slid away but he was not heading straight for central London.

  Tuan was taking a detour to visit Bee. Since recovering from his breakdown, he had become even more self possessed, to such an extent that he could not think of the lives of others as anything but an extension of his own. It didn’t occur to him that Bee might be out, or that she would prefer not to be surprised for whatever reason, or that she may already have left for university herself, for she was heading to Bristol to read English and History. He expected only that she would be at home and would be pleased to see him. He was correct on both counts.

  ‘Hello you,’ he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

  As he’d arrived, Tuan had seen her in the kitchen talking on the phone. After noticing the car pull up, she had hurried to the door.

  ‘This is a nice surprise. Today’s the day then? Back to it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Good. It’ll do you good to get on with things again. Bet you can’t wait. Time to come in?’

  ‘Why not. Your mum and dad here?’

  ‘No, but they should be back soon. Stay for a cup of tea and you might see them. I know they’d love to see you before you go.’

  Tuan followed Bee into the kitchen and he leaned against the countertop holding the sink. She shoved him to one side so she could fill the kettle, and moved him again to plug it in. ‘What is it about kitchens? People are always in the way wherever they stand.’

  He was enjoying getting in her way.

  ‘So it’s okay for you to start back?’

  ‘It’s fine. Let’s face it, Bee, I could do almost anything and they’d still have me back. Do you remember what you said about school once? When we were talking about how we might persuade Giles to let me go to yours, what we’d say about not being in the right catchment and everything?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You said most people would agree to anything just to be seen to be helping me.’

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘Yes. You did. And it was true. It’s still the case, except now people will do anything just to be seen with me, helping has nothing to do with it.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘Where will you stay?’

  ‘A house.’

  ‘Shared?’

  ‘No, just a house.’

  ‘A whole house, in the middle of London? Are you mad, that will cost you a bomb.’

  ‘I bought it a few moths ago. It’s nice. You’d like it.’ He nodded to the entourage half filling the cul-de-sac, ‘This is all a very long way away from sleeping up a tree or on the sand, isn’t it?’

  ‘The good old bad old days, eh?’ she said.

  Her face lit up and he smiled at the sight of it, ‘Seems so long ago, doesn’t it? I still remember seeing those blue eyes of yours for the very first time. It was such a shock. I’d never seen eyes that colour before, which seems crazy to me now! But I knew you wanted to help me. I’d been watching you, you know, and sort of worked you out. I could tell you were nice. Sometimes I would lie on this low cliff just waiting…’

  ‘I know,’ she interrupted. ‘You’ve told me this story a thousand times.’

  He laughed, ‘And I’ll tell it a thousand more. I like it. It’s good to think about the first time I saw you.’

  ‘I like to think of it too…’ she poured boiling water into the teapot, ‘…to think about you.’

  ‘A moment in time, two unconnected lives meeting by chance, and here we are, practically family. Be nice to be a proper family. Wouldn’t it?’

  Bee spun round. ‘We are. You’re the brother I never had,’ she said, broad smile concealing surprise.

  ‘Of course.’

  Bee returned her attention to the tea and put two mugs next to the pot. ‘Still take it the same? A tiny bit of milk and no sugar?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’

  ‘How’s Char?’

  ‘We broke up.’

  ‘Broke up?’ With an obviously pink face, Bee refilled the kettle and set it to boil once again, ‘Incase Mum and Dad come back,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, we broke up. But she’s using the house while I’m away. We’re still friends.’

  ‘Well that’s good… I mean it’s good to be friends. She’s a nice girl.’

  ‘Bee!’

  ‘She is. Okay, at school I wasn’t so keen on her, but she’s grown on me. She’s changed. I admire her, in some ways.’

  ‘She hasn’t changed at all. She let’s other people see the real her now, that’s the only difference. You’re the one that’s changed.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. You.’

  Bee paused for a moment. ‘We all change. Things happen.’

  ‘Really? Nana and your mum always insist they feel the same as they did as girls, that they haven’t changed a bit. Not inside.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s the same for everyone…’

  ‘You do seem different these days, though. Quieter.’

  Bee shook her head, not prepared to talk anymore on the topic, returning the focus to Char, ‘She’s going to be successful.’

  ‘She is.’ Tuan agreed.

  ‘Do you ever run into Kai?’

  ‘He’s inside.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Grievous bodily harm maybe? Or handling stolen goods, perhaps. It’s the third time. I think.’ Tuan paused, seeming to look at Bee for a long time. ‘Maybe it’s just… well, I thought you were like Felix but maybe you are more like your dad.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Change. When I said you’d changed, I didn’t mean it badly, I just meant…’

  ‘You’re digging a hole for yourself. And I’m not like Dad…’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with him.’

  ‘I know. But I am not like him.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Suddenly Bee smirked, ‘Do you remember when Char was caught bunking off and it turned out she’d taken a job sweeping up at that hairdressing salon? What was it called? Cut Above or Down Below or Snip It Off or something…?’

  ‘Kirsty’s Kuts.’

  ‘That was it. Kirsty’s Kuts. God, what an awful name. Poor old Char.’

  ‘Poor old Char?’ Tuan was incredulous, ‘Poor old Char? Bugger that. Poor old anyone who stands in her way. I don’t think I have ever met anyone quite as determined as she is. She’s amazing.’

  ‘If she’s so amazing then why did you break up? Or did she dump you?’

  ‘Nice! Thanks very much! Actually, it was mutual. And it was overdue. Things have run their course.’

  ‘She had a tough time at school.’

  Tuan agreed, ‘She did, but she brought some of it on herself.’

  ‘Do you remember that nickname? What was it? Hard-on-ay.’

  Tuan stared.

  Bee raised her hands, declaring defeat, ‘I was just saying, that’s all.’

  He growled a little, ‘I know. But most of her problems were caused by people “just saying”.’

  With a mumbled apology, Bee began pouring the tea. The landline phone started ringing, so with hands full she asked Tuan to answer it.

  He picked up the handset, listened and then placed it back in its cradle. ‘Wrong number.’

  Bee smiled and gave him a mug, ‘There you go.’

  Tuan took it but immediately placed the drink on the draining board, ‘Actually Bee, I think I haven’t got time for this, after all. Sorry. I’ll send you a text when I get there, or an email. Okay?’

  ‘Hang on! You’ve hardly been here a single minute!’

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry. But I need to get on.’

  ‘Fine,’ Bee huffed, ‘But Mum and Dad will be really upset to have missed you. They’re always moaning that they never see you anymore.’

  ‘Tell them I said hello and I’m really sorry to have missed them too. And say I?
??ll call in when I’m back next, okay? Which I expect will be soon. It’s just I need to see someone about work.’

  Bee walked him to the door. ‘Tuan, how are you going to fit everything in? Working like you do and studying… catching up… it won’t be easy. It wasn’t before.’

  ‘Piece of piss. Just watch me. And loads of people do it, working in bars and shops to get some extra income.’

  ‘I suppose. I hope it all goes okay for you. Perhaps we could meet up sometime, if you can fit it in? I’ll come up or you come to me?’

  His face beamed, ‘Come up, Bee. As soon as you can. You can stay with me in the new house; we can do London.’

  Bee’s expression mirrored his. ‘I’d love to. I think that would be so nice. Let’s set a date after you’re settled.’ She opened the door and stretching up, kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’d better go.’

  ‘I always miss you,’ he said; smile deserting him.

  ‘Why?’ A pink flush crept back into her cheeks. ‘I thought I’d changed.’

  Tuan leaned over her, and then whispered in her ear. ‘Because you make such a good cup of tea. Some things never change.’

  ‘You didn’t even bloody drink it!’ With both hands, Bee shoved him out the open door, laughing.

  Tuan roared happily, reaching back and grabbing her arm, pulling her outside so he could kiss the top of her head.

  Then he was gone. Bee stood watching the empty street, ignoring the ringing phone inside the house because she knew the person calling would call back. Ian always did.

  Part 3

  CREATIVITY

  ‘She had known it. It had been, enveloped, and consumed every tiny particle of her being, before the only tangible element had wrenched itself away, returned itself to itself, and left her emptied of all that mattered.

  Before, long ago, it had been vibrant and inspiring; beautiful in the most outlandish sense of the word, infusing existence with such a melodious tenderness that all might be mistaken for a rare and exceptional dream. But it was real, so real that there was no time for dreaming, no room for fantasy, passion, always giving back more energy than it used; all-consuming yet self sustaining: emotional perpetual motion.