‘What then?’
‘I meant what I said. Let me design your wedding dress.’
The frown returned, ‘Don’t start.’
‘I’m not. I mean it,’ he said, levelly.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll make you a suit, or dress, or whatever else you want, if you let me design your wedding dress as well. That’s the price.’
‘Now why would you do a thing like that?’
‘Do you think I’d let you wear something by anyone else on your big day?’
She thought for a moment, ‘And does that mean you’ll come? To the wedding?’
He nodded. ‘We could look at some fabric if you like. Then I’ll run you over to Jermyn Street for what’s-his-name’s shirts. I noticed he’d sent you a text. To remind you.’ He took a swig of orange juice to shift the food that had just stuck in his throat, and coughed a little.
She could hardly believe her ears and her astonishment was obvious, ‘Thanks. You don’t know what all this means to me.’
He raised his eyebrows, ‘It’s fine. We all want the same thing at the end of the day, don’t we?’
FREE ENTRY TO THE FREAK SHOW
This time make-up-free, Tuan was again dressed in blue jeans and a hooded top as he strolled into the museum with Bee by his side. Days like these filled him with gladness, when ordinary activities any couple might share became part of his life. He loved to think that people would assume they were exactly that, a couple even if not ordinary. Providing he did not think ahead to the moment of her departure, he was happy.
She hadn’t changed much over the years, he thought, admiring the swing of her hips as she wandered ahead to pick up a brochure, still slim and pony-tailed and favouring colourful dresses. Had he changed, he wondered, did he look as youthful as Bee? He knew the answer was no, for what had caught Giles’ attention all those years ago still remained, a seemingly relentless race through maturity. There was no thinning or greying of hair and his skin remained crease free, all gifts of heritage. But he was thick set about the neck and jaw, across his back and through his waist, and his gums were less fleshy than once they had been. Most worryingly, his scrotum was beginning to think the floor looked like a mighty fine place to be. In general, he had the body and voice of a man more than fifteen years his senior.
Tuan walked up behind Bee, placing his hand in the small of her back, the intimate contact masquerading as something else. Bodies touching, his guiding hand urging her nowhere, they studied the booklet and whispered their plans. Deciding to attempt a complete exploration of the enormous museum, with a rest and coffee before finding the exhibition that was the purpose of their visit, they moved on.
As they walked, Bee smiled as she watched Tuan peer up in awe at the enormous reconstruction of a Diplodocus skeleton, as if he had never seen it before.
‘Is it real?’ she asked, in a gentle tone.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, quietly, ‘it must be a replica. Where’s the sign?’
‘Can you imagine when it was alive? Can you imagine something that big walking up and down Oxford Street? Especially at Christmas!’
He shook his head, ‘I don’t think Oxford Street existed in its current form a hundred and fifty million years ago do you?’
‘You don’t think it did?’ she laughed.
On they walked, absorbing wonders, captivated by hall after hall of artifacts and tombs and treasures, some secured behind alarmed screens some free to touch, paintings and pots, sculptures and fossils, interactive displays inundated with children on school excursions, all manner of items whose worth lay in the fact that a precious past was confirmed by their presence. Finally, the time came to sit down.
*
‘I am absolutely knackered,’ Bee declared as she flopped into a seat, watching Tuan bring a tray of coffee and cake to the table.
‘No staying power some people,’ he remarked, handing her a chocolate brownie and sitting down himself. ‘Although I agree, wandering is tiring. More tiring than marching along, for some reason.’
She gave the brownie back, ‘How can you eat? I am still stuffed from breakfast.’
‘Save it for later.’
‘No, you eat it.’
He smiled broadly, ‘If you insist.’
So far it had been an excellent morning, they agreed; the museum brimming with interesting displays and still so much more to do.
‘Islands of Southeast Asia exhibit next, as we agreed?’ Bee asked. ‘It’s why we came, after all. Not sure I am going to make the whole museum, though. I’m exhausted already.’
‘It’s just over there.’ Tuan pointed across the open hall to a large doorway, adorned with images of Komodo Dragons, ancient temples and dancing men in tribal costumes. ‘Should be interesting.’
‘Might be a bit weird for you, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t see why. I know I was born in that part of the world, but leaving when I was ten… you know… I was just a kid. It’s a long time ago. I feel very English… British… if I am honest. Still, it will be good to see it.’
‘Did anyone get in touch with you about the exhibition? Ask you anything? Someone must have, surely?’
‘Yeah,’ Tuan tried to sound casual, ‘there was this guy, really excited about the Pulau Tua exhibit, said he knew Giles and that he wanted some input from me, you know, memories and things. I didn’t have time.’
‘So what… you said no? I can’t believe it. Come on Tuan, this was a chance to… I mean… you’re the only one…’
‘Bee, you have no idea how busy I am. Our little breaks are the only time I ever have off. Be fair.’
There was little point challenging him, so she conceded that he was indeed always very busy, ‘And do you think there will be much from Pulau Tua in there? Did he say?’
‘I let him have access to Giles’ collection, so you might be lucky enough to see my old plastic bag full of shells, or my animal skin loincloth. Fascinating stuff, eh, other people’s underpants.’
Bee put her hand on his arm, ‘Do you think he knew about the Steps?’
‘The Steps?’
‘The rituals...’
‘Bee! I know what the Steps are. I meant why are you wondering?’
‘It just came to mind. You don’t talk about them anymore. I thought you might prefer not to be reminded.’
‘You just reminded me.’
She smiled, coyly, ‘True.’
Tuan chuckled to himself, before eating Bee’s brownie in one mouthful.
‘Did you complete them?’
Mouth crammed, Tuan simply stared.
‘Here you are, a grown man. So did you fulfill everything you needed to, or did you turn into a man anyway?’
Tuan shook his head.
‘It may sound silly, but now we’re here I am worried about what might be in there. What if there is something about rituals and you come out feeling you haven’t completed what you should have?’
‘Bee! If I wasn’t worried, I would be now!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Joke. There certainly won’t be anything in there like that, how could there be. No one else knows, and there would’ve been very little evidence of anything on the island. Probably none. That’s not how we were. Anyway, how do you know what I have and haven’t completed?’
‘How do I know? You’ve got a short memory, Tuan. I spent quite a lot of my childhood taking with you about it, seeing you through some of it.’
‘You did?’
She was aghast. ‘You can’t have forgotten.’
‘I just don’t think about the past too much anymore.’
‘You mean you have forgotten, more like.’
‘Alright, Brain of Britain. You can remember everything, can you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Prove it.’
Bee placed her coffee on the table, and counted off the rituals on her fingers. ‘Number one was leaving behind childish wa
ys; number two was sacrifice, poor little monkey; number three was enlightenment, don’t thank me for the library, will you; number four was…’
‘Bravery. Don’t thank me for the library, will you…’
‘Touché. Number five… number five was love, wasn’t it?’
‘Sort of. Understanding love would be more accurate.’
‘Char.’
He shook his head, ‘No. Not that sort of love. I told you, I’m sure I did, that it was Giles who made me understand what real love is. And I suppose you and your family did too.’
‘You did. I’d forgotten, and it seems you haven’t forgotten after all. Okay, Six … Char… amongst others… many others… helped you with this one… ‘
‘You can say it, if you like…. sexual encounter. There, I said it for you, Bee.’
‘You quite enjoyed that Step didn’t you? Or should I say, you still enjoy it.’
‘Well, a chap has to keep his end up, so to speak.’
‘Tuan!’
‘I didn’t start this, you did.’
‘Okay, but seven? You see, just as I thought, you haven’t done it. Step Seven is incomplete.’
‘Does it mean anything to you if I say I can’t complete it?’
She shrugged.
‘The whole point of any coming of age ritual is the reintegration of the improved individual.’
Bee feigned a yawn, and rolled her eyes.
‘So you know this already?’
‘It was a joke. Carry on. I’m interested. Honest.’
‘Bee!’
‘I am! Carry on.’
‘Okay. So. At first the child separates from the family or community or whatever, then he or she goes through a transitional period where they develop independent thought, and eventually they are re-incorporated as worthy adults. Step Seven is meant to be a stage that will take me back to my people.’
They both sighed, dismally. It was difficult.
‘I have no people to go back to.’
Bee shook her head, ‘Except when you are dead yourself, if you believe in the Stars and the Ancestors and things. True?’
‘Maybe, yes.’
‘But you told me that you need to achieve all seven Steps to ascend. How can anyone ascend if the final Step can only be death?’
‘Oh this is cheerful.’
‘I’m only commenting, that’s all. I’m not trying to bring you down.’
He laughed, ‘Come on, don’t look so serious, Bee. The Ancestors could hardly be expected to account for their own people’s annihilation when they decided the rules, could they? Besides which, it’s more flexible than just completing the Steps. What about all the young children and babies that die before they even have a chance of living, let alone follow a few Steps? Anyway, it’s probably a load of mumbo jumbo. You know how every society wants their kids to grow up into responsible, brave, right-minded adults. What better way to ensure compliance than using the constraints of an ingrained belief system? And London is no different, not really, except here what kids have to try and survive is religious propaganda, drink, drugs, underage sex and gang warfare. Give me the jungle any day.’
‘You used to think only of the Steps.’
‘And you used to think only of ponies and playing your electric piano, Bee. The Steps happen regardless, people mature. How about we change the subject.’
Growing in his voice was the same tetchiness he had in the car just before talk of Ian Boyce blasted out of control. Bee silently sipped her drink.
When both had finished they made ready to move on. But a small group of children arrived. One little girl rushed up to Tuan. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ she said, her small face glowing with enough courage for the whole class. ‘Could you sign this for me, please? Um… and for my friends?’ She turned to her classmates with the beginnings of a triumphant smile.
Tuan nodded and excited children began gathering about him, all waving a variety of postcards, handkerchiefs, photographs and pens, skinny arms like seaweed flowing with the tide. Somewhere in the background a bashful teacher hovered hopefully.
‘I’ll pop to the loo,’ Bee said, ‘meet you inside? Okay?’
Tuan sighed good-naturedly and began signing.
*
‘So, what are you looking at, Shrimp?’
‘Ah, there you are. How did it go? All done?’
‘For now, until the rest of her school finds me,’ he stood close, looking over her head and into the cabinet that had been holding her attention.
‘You’re very good. Some people would get really angry about the constant intrusion.’
‘I don’t see why. They’re kids, why wouldn’t I sign a few photos? The sort of person that gets funny about a few fans shouldn’t seek celebrity status in the first place.’
‘Ah, but that is my point, because it was thrust upon you. You didn’t seek it.’
‘Bee, how can you say that with a straight face?’
‘Well, you may have gone along with it all…’
‘Enthusiastically.’
‘Okay… but what choice did you have? And you weren’t that enthusiastic to start with.’
Tuan raised his hands in defeat, ‘So what have we here?’
‘A shrunken head.’
‘So I see.’ Tuan looked at the head for few seconds and then wandered away, eyes scanning. Suddenly his stride quickened. Bee followed. A little way off, a small area entitled Pulau Tua: A Vanished Society was a hive of activity.
*
Tuan paused for a moment to allow a large group to move off. His mouth was dry. Here it was. For the first time in eighteen years he had a view of his home. He thought it a small display for such a special place, but he could see that exhibit size was of no consequence to anyone else. Even with the large group gone, people were everywhere, many queuing to view a concealed exhibit set in the centre. A few pairs of eyes shifted his way and then were gone again. He looked about. There were others here like him, two Chinese men, their creamy faces and necks tattooed as a tiger. He supposed people thought he was like they were; the schoolchildren were better observers. He looked across a sea of heads and scanned the space. It should not be as it was, he decided, tucked away in this themed place, but out in one of the huge auditoriums he’d already seen; a permanent feature. Undeniably Pulau Tua was such a unique place that it warranted an exhibition without artifacts and memorabilia from the surrounding island cultures overwhelming it. The metaphor did not pass him by, or the irony of moving it into a more obvious setting.
They pushed through the crowd and browsed the neatly labeled displays. As Tuan followed in Bee’s wake, a surrealistic fascination hovered, but mostly he felt only crushing disappointment. And guilt. Much more could have been made of the unique way of life; the seemingly self-imposed isolation, the rich culture, the spiritual faith enjoyed by a devout and devoted community. Everything seemed sparse, minimal, uninspiring. What did he expect, he wondered, given that he’d never shared information with so called experts even when begged; as a child hoping to save what was left of his home by saying nothing. This aim was never achieved. The protection he’d hoped his silence would provide in fact served only to further the island’s destruction. When finally it came to creating an official archaeological site most relics had already been pilfered, any other vestige of local life destroyed. Had the island been off the coast of Europe or America then the Western mass media’s attention might have ensured recognition as one of the Great Wonders, but a place half the world could only ever view as less than third world and therefore no world at all, would only ever mean nothing. For most, it was the man and not the birthplace that provoked real curiosity.
Tuan silently gazed at a set of red beads. He recalled a neighbour making such things but couldn’t remember how she had done it. They shuffled forwards. A second glass cabinet contained a variety of utensils, all of which were immediately familiar to him, instantly taking him to his mother, to her cooking, to comfort. Latent sent
imentality stirred and he feared he might cry, but he swallowed until it was gone. Next there were loincloths and other garments, simple footwear, combs and beads of animal bone, leather necklaces and pouches.
‘No plastic sandwich bags,’ he said to Bee, quietly.
It was the very item as a child he most treasured and regularly scoured the shore to find. Where was it now, he wondered, the last bag he had found and filled with treasure? Hadn’t it been the best one ever, no holes and a sliding mechanism to seal it that still worked. He discovered it floating just below the surface at the edge of the shore. At first he thought it a jellyfish.
Bee slipped her arm in his and squeezed reassuringly. This gentle act of unity was a fortuitous move, for they had joined the queue to view the centrepiece. It was a modest yet intriguing sort of temporary structure: understated yet obvious. It had a way in and a way out, each doorway covered by a black velvet curtain that seemed to sway in perpetual motion as people passed through in a steady stream. Red rope was strung through chrome posts to encourage orderly entry. They moved forward with the queue. Soon they were at the front. Then inside. There stood a tall glass showcase surrounded by more looping red rope, and a sign warning of an alarm plus a picture of a hand with a red line drawn through it. As the pair entered the darkened chamber Tuan froze. Bee’s small act of support now held up a giant, for without it he would have collapsed.
Contained before them was a complete skeleton, clean ivory white bones illuminated by soft spotlights. Tiny transparent ties and posts connected the pieces and a narrow frame supported it all.
Homo virga. Affectionately named: MARTHA.
Martha was discovered beneath a large, woody shrub, partially buried in a shallow grave. Both the radius and ulna of her right arm reveal severe injury in early youth. The radius also shows signs of chronic infection and it is likely Martha had limited movement. Three toes are missing from the right foot, and it appears these were surgically removed. There is some damage to the remaining toes. Martha would have walked with a pronounced limp.
Little is known of traditional Tuan burial, but records suggest that Martha may have elected to bury herself. It is not known why.
Tuan was not numb, for he felt too much acid horror clamping itself around his bones as he stared at those of his mother. An insurmountable wall had found him and instantly everything that ever was, everything he had ever been, had come to an end.