Princess Play (11 page)

‘Come on.' Zainab yanked her arm and pulled her to her feet.

In the living room, everyone looked relieved when the two came out. It was clear that everything would be alright. Even though Rahim's relatives knew the whole story, Zainab was reluctant to tell it to Osman with a full audience, and she pulled him, together with the young couple, over to a corner of the room. The rest of the family tactfully withdrew outside, or into the kitchen, to give them some privacy.

Osman's face creased with concern as he heard the story. Would it be a motive to kill Zaiton's mother? If she already knew, and Zaiton was telling the truth, then there was no reason. However, if her story was now a convenient whitewashing of the truth, then it might certainly push one or the other, or both together, to murder. Still, Osman could not bring himself to consider that this girl would kill her own mother. It was unnatural, and he hated to even consider it. He looked at them both, trying to divine from their eyes whether they could really be that wicked. He wanted to see that it was impossible, but the policeman in him wouldn't allow it.

Chapter XV

Though back at the market, Maryam was still not herself. She tried to think about the case, but her mind was still blurred, and she became easily tired and even more easily irritated. Mamat had suggested she stay away from the market for a while: ‘Let Ashikin handle the stall – you know she'll do a great job.'

Maryam erupted in fury. He'd never seen her like that, and everything he said in an attempt to pacify merely seemed to stoke her rage. He tried to keep the children out of her way. Aliza was still delicate, and needed tender care. He worried about her. Whenever he looked at her, without her curly hair, her eyes huge in her face, he cursed himself for not protecting her, for not protecting all of them.

Yi was home now, and just a kid, and frightened by this new side of his mother. He sent them both to stay with Maryam's brother Malek and his family, confident they would be comfortable while Maryam had a rest, while he could devote his time to her recovery. After all, without her in the centre of the family, everything would fall apart.

He tried to talk to Maryam as she prepared dinner, hoping to draw her out. She was pale lately, and haggard. Really, she should have been resting, but she refused. Rubiah tried to bring dinner over every night, but Maryam wouldn't have it, and Rubiah would leave without comment.

Maryam squatted on the floor of the kitchen, chopping onions and garlic with a will so vicious Mamat flinched every time her knife hit the board. ‘So, what have you heard about the case?'

The knife hit even harder, threatening to break the board.

‘The case,' she answered bitterly. ‘Well, Zaiton ran away to Sungei Golok to get married to Rahim. I understand she's having a baby. Her poor mother.'

Whack! The onions were already pulverized and she put them in a pan to fry. Now she brought out a coconut grater and began using it. Bits of coconut were spraying around the kitchen. He feared she would hurt herself, but knew if he said anything, she'd probably throw the whole thing in his face.

‘Now, would a daughter kill her own mother so she could get married sooner? It's unnatural. And I thought Rahim was a nice boy, but now I'm not so sure.' She began squeezing out the milk from the grated coconut, with a gusto which made it look like she was strangling someone.

‘And you know what else I think? That wife of Murad is crazy. All her answers are like a code, if only I could figure it out.' She stopped for a moment, and reflected.

‘There's something wrong there. Though, of course, being married to Murad could probably make anyone crazy.' She resumed throttling the coconut.

*  *  *

Mamat made the trip to Bacok while Maryam was busy at the market, so she wouldn't know he'd gone. Rubiah had also urged him to go to
Pak
Nik Lah, and ask what could be done for her. Perhaps Maryam needed a
main puteri
as well – something was changing her, and it wasn't healthy. Mamat prayed the
bomoh
could give him some hope of a cure; he was out of ideas, and felt increasingly helpless watching his wife sink further into unhappiness.

Pak
Nik Lah greeted him with professional courtesy, and Mamat could see immediately why people trusted him with their problems. He was grave, yet easy to talk to, infinitely sympathetic, yet practical too. Without making a conscious decision to do so, Mamat unburdened himself completely, telling him all that had happened and why. The
bomoh
offered him a cigarette, his wife laid out coffee and fried bananas, and for the first time since the attack, Mamat felt a solution might be found.

Pak
Nik Lah leaned over, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes kind.

‘It's a great burden for her, I can feel that,' he told Mamat. ‘She came to see me, with her cousin, was it? And I thought then, what a brave woman! And smart, too, I could see that.'

He sighed, and took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Often it's the people who are the smartest who suffer the most, you see. Other people don't notice things, or they don't always know what things might mean. But someone like your wife, she'll take it all in. She can't pretend she doesn't know. And then, too, she's used to running things.' He smiled at Mamat in brotherhood, and Mamat could not help smiling back.

‘My wife's the same. And then, when she feels she's fallen down on the job, she's very hard on herself.' He leaned back against the cushions, and took a sip of coffee.

‘Spending time thinking about murder, it can't help but upset you. Your energy, your
semangat
, it's bound to be badly affected, and I'm afraid that's what may have happened. She's open to bad influences, and perhaps some
jinn
has taken advantage of that. It's made her angry, or rather, I should say, it's the
jinn
you're hearing when she's angry, not her. The cure would be to get rid of these influences,
these jinn
, so her own soul can come back in balance.'

‘And how …?'

‘A
main puteri
, I would think.'

Mamat looked glum. ‘I don't see her wanting the whole
kampong
attending something like that. She'd be uncomfortable.'

They sat silent for a moment. ‘We could try to do a small one,' the
bomoh
suggested, a touch doubtfully. ‘I can think about it. I see what you mean, but you need the music and all that. You can't do it quietly.'

‘I see.' He really did, but feared bringing it up to Maryam.

‘Let me come and talk to her,' advised
Pak
Nik Lah. ‘Let's see what we can do.'

Mamat agreed fervently. ‘Yes, let's. Tomorrow? I'll try to get her home from the market early.' He wrung
Pak
Nik Lah's hand gratefully, and walked down the stairs feeling better, hopeful that now it was possible to have things improve, and maybe everything would indeed turn out right.

The next afternoon saw
Pak
Nik Lah at their house, with Rubiah, Ashikin, Malek and Aliza in attendance for moral support. Maryam served coffee and snacks, cigarettes were passed around, and
Pak
Nik Lah smiled encouragingly. Maryam looked, and felt, suspicious and uncomfortable. Something was up.

‘
Kakak
, I've heard about your injury, and yours,
Mek
,' he smiled at Aliza, who smiled shyly back, ‘and I'm sorry for it.' Maryam murmured something polite but unintelligible.

‘I see you're tired and tense. I don't think that's like you.' Maryam shot Mamat a look, but said nothing. ‘Such a strain you've been under lately: investigating murder, which is bound to upset anyone, and then this terrible attack. It's no wonder you've been nervous.

‘And, of course,
Kakak
, being nervous, you've been weakened. It happens all the time. I'm so sorry to see you suffering.'

‘I'm fine,' she said curtly, rubbing her hands on her sarong.

He smiled at her again. ‘Those close to you are worried about you. They can see how you're trying to be strong for your family, but they can be strong for you, too. They can help you. You don't need to bear it all by yourself.'

Maryam watched him warily. The others watched Maryam.

‘Perhaps there is something we can do to ease the pressure on you,
Kakak
. To make you feel more like yourself.'

‘
Adik
,' Malek said softly, ‘I'm worried about you. You're too thin, too tired. You've been through too much. I feel I must do something.'

‘About what?' she answered quietly. ‘What can you do?'

‘A cure. A clearing of your heart of this trouble. A rest for your injury, and for Aliza.'

‘Absolutely,' Rubiah chimed in. ‘This has been so difficult for you. Such an injury! Such a case!'

Maryam looked slowly around the circle of her family. ‘You all believe this?'

They nodded – even Aliza, frail as she still was.

To Mamat's consternation, and the surprise of everyone else, Maryam began to cry: heavy sobs which seemed torn out of her. They crowded around her, stroking her arm, her back, her hair; assuring her it was alright to cry, and she need not be strong always.

They urged her to let them help her, to regain her strength and her equilibrium. It could be done; hadn't
Pak Cik
Lah done it for others? And weren't they much better afterwards than they had been? To regain one's peace of mind was the main thing, and then Maryam could continue on as she had been – the mainstay of her family, an admired businesswoman and the saviour of the Kota Bharu Police Department.

Rubiah wiped Maryam's face with a cold, wet cloth when she had stopped crying, and Ashikin sat behind her to rearrange her hair. Mamat looked relieved as he held her hand, and Malek beamed and held Aliza in his lap, though she was really too tall for that.
Pak
Nik Lah smiled beneficently upon them all.

‘A
main puteri, Kakak
, that's what we'll do. You know, when you lose your balance, so to speak,
jinn
can invade you and they'll make you miserable. When you're restored,
the jinn
leave. They don't have a chance.' A soft giggle passed around the group, as much for relief as anything else.

‘When can we do it?' Rubiah asked.

Pak
Nik Lah thought. ‘We will do it for both
Kakak
Maryam and
Mek
Aliza,' he smiled.

‘My hair!' Aliza burst out.

‘I know,' he said kindly. ‘We'll wait a bit so you're stronger. But you must promise me,
Kakak
, you will eat, and you will rest, or you won't be strong enough.' He suddenly looked stern.

Maryam sniffed and blew her nose. ‘I will.'

‘Excellent.' He stood up. ‘I am so glad. I know this will succeed.' He said his goodbyes, and left with Mamat to make arrangements.

Everyone else clustered about her, talking excitedly. Rubiah got to her feet and announced she was going home to cook.

‘And you'll eat it,' she warned Maryam. ‘No more arguments!' She held up her hand as if to ward them off, but Maryam said nothing.

‘And I'm taking over the stall, every morning at least,' Ashikin announced. Arrangements had already been made for Rubiah's daughter Puteh to help out as well. ‘And don't argue with me either,' she warned.

‘I think you're all taking advantage of this to order me around,' Maryam grumbled, but she, too, was deeply relieved. She was loathe to admit it, but her sudden rages frightened even her, and she worried about her inability to focus on the case. And even though no cure had yet been done, just agreeing to it made her more confident. She would rest, she would eat, and she would find the murderer.
Jinn
or no
jinn
.

Chapter XVI

Osman sat stiffly on the bus from Kota Bharu to Ipoh. It left at night, so passengers could sleep through most of the 14-hour ride, although in Osman's case, this was more hope than possibility. He had been afraid about leaving while Maryam was ill, and had postponed coming home, which infuriated his mother.

‘We have so much to do here!' she scolded him. ‘Weddings don't happen in a day!'

Though he explained why he couldn't leave just yet, she refused to be mollified. ‘Are you the only person on the whole police force?' she asked.

Even upon hearing what had happened to Maryam, she remained unmoved, and threatened to come to Kota Bharu and drag Osman home. He actually worried she would do that, humiliating him in front of his men. But thankfully, she had too much to do at home, as she told him; otherwise she'd be there.

He thought Maryam now seemed to be improving. Mamat told him about the
main puteri
to come, and though he was surprised Maryam agreed to it, he felt strongly that she needed it. Now he believed he could leave for a little while to get married, without the whole investigation falling apart. Between Rahman and Maryam, neither at full capacity, but together still formidable, he felt sure things would go well. Especially with those two backed up by a newly invigorated Rubiah.

He felt lighter than he had in months, as though the weight of the job, and of the foreign soil of Kelantan, had lifted from him. He would be home soon, where the smallest mumbled comment would be instantly understood and no one would look to him for advice or orders. His mother would not even look to him for agreement – she would expect her own orders to be followed, and quickly. He sighed with contentment.

He saw his father waiting as the bus pulled into Ipoh. He was a mild-mannered man, accustomed to agreeing immediately with his wife rather than undergoing hours of futile wrangling, and he and Osman understood each other.

Standing with him, with his suitcases at their feet, Osman looked around at the busy street, proprietarily proud of Ipoh's commercial bustle. It was bigger and more energetic than Kota Bharu, and more cosmopolitan, too. He threw back his shoulders and straightened his spine: he was proud to be from Perak – and he was no foreigner here!