The Harmony Silk Factory

Early one evening when the sun had calmed to a deep amber, a thought came into Tiger’s head which made him shiver gently with happiness. He had spent the day planting papaya seedlings he had grown from the seeds of his own fruit. Though the work was not heavy, it was enough to make a man of his age feel as if he had earned a rest. After dousing himself with cold water he sat in the cane armchair in his library with his supper of cold noodles. When he finished those he poured himself a small glass of cognac. He had not been to the shop at all that day. He thought of Johnny, he thought of the customers; he tried to fill his ears with the noise of the shop, the smooth-sharp sound of heavy scissors cutting through cloth, Johnny’s low mumbling voice, the clink of coins on the glass counter. He wondered how the shop looked without him in it, and the image of the Tigerless place did not trouble him. He knew then that the Tiger Brand Trading Company would survive his death and, more than that, would flourish. His whole world — which he had created — would grow unendingly. That thought was cemented when, at that moment, he saw Johnny running up the stairs at the front of the house, leaping two steps at a time. Elation mixed with relief, that is what Tiger felt. Now he knew there was no more reason for him to continue the struggle.

“Johnny,” he called, no longer able to keep his thoughts to himself.

“What’s the matter, Tiger? Are you alright?” Johnny’s brow creased with uncertainty.

“I want you to sit down with me,” Tiger said.

Johnny sat perched on the edge of a chair facing Tiger. He could feel the frame of the chair pushing through the thin upholstery, cutting into his buttocks.

“Corvoossier?” Tiger said, holding up the bottle of cognac.

“No, thank you.”

“It is said,” Tiger said, his face glowing and puce-coloured, “that tending to your garden is good for your soul. I can certainly testify to that. After a day’s work I feel cleansed. Funny, isn’t it?” He chuckled gently.

Johnny looked mystified.

“I don’t know how to explain this feeling to you. It is as if the work I put into looking after my plants makes me a better man. It makes me feel that I am a good person—”

“You are a good person.”

“—and for those few hours that I am in the garden, none of the bad things I have done in my life matter very much; they do not exist in my garden.”

“You have never done any bad things.”

Tiger smiled. “Don’t speak. Listen. You know I have worried about the shop. You know I am an old man now. That does not mean I do not care about the future of the shop, the future of everyone who works there, everyone who depends on the shop. I care. But I am old and tired, and soon I will die. I have spent much time in my garden lately, I know, but I feel no harm can come from this. Why? Because I have you, and you are ready for greater things.”

“Greater things,” Johnny repeated in his blank monotone.

“Yes, greater things! Tell me — what would happen to the shop if I was dead?”

“Do not say that.”

“But what if? What if? What would you do then?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” Johnny’s face was stubborn and dull.

“Do you think the shop would survive?”

“Yes.” Johnny’s reply was instinctive.

“Why do you think it will survive?”

Johnny did not answer.

“Because of you. All that is mine will be yours upon my death.”

Johnny did not protest but remained expressionless as before.

The following weeks saw a small revolution in the textile business in the Valley. Following the example set by the larger companies in KL and Penang, Johnny introduced village-to-village selling. It had always occurred to him that there were many people who might have wanted to visit the shop but for one reason or another were not able to. In many parts of the Valley, the roads were little more than dirt tracks twisting through the jungle. When the rains came they washed mud onto the roads, and in the hot season the dust was so heavy and the sun so strong that a traveller could barely open his eyes. If these people could not come to the shop, Johnny thought, the shop would go to them.