Princess Play (10 page)

‘It's just her hair.'

‘Just?' came the indignant cry. ‘How would you feel …?'

‘I know,' Ashikin sought to control her irritation, remembering what Aliza had just been through. ‘Azmi, what do you think?'

‘Well, I'm a man, so what do I know? But if you ask me, you look beautiful even without hair, and as
Kakak
says, it's going to grow back before you know it.'

Aliza did not lift up her head. ‘
Abang
,' Ashikin began, ‘have you ever thought about getting married?'

Azmi stood stock still, and even Aliza was silent. ‘Why?'

‘I'm just asking.'

‘You have someone,' he said flatly, knowing she would never bring this up as idle chatter.

Ashikin shrugged. ‘I could suggest someone, if you like.'

‘You've already started something,' he stated, not knowing whether he was angry or excited.

‘No, just talking to
Mak
about it. You're old enough, you know.'

‘That's true,' Aliza chimed in.

‘You stay out of this,' he commanded her. ‘Who?'

‘Well, I'm not sure. But I was thinking maybe of Rosnah. Do you remember her?'

He thought hard. ‘I don't think so.'

‘She went to school with me.'

‘Is she pretty?'

‘Of course, she's pretty!'

‘Very pretty!' Aliza added, now sitting up on the bed, her hair forgotten. ‘She's nice, too.'

Azmi gave her a gentle shove. ‘How far has this gone?'

‘It hasn't gone anywhere. I'm just asking.'

‘Uh huh.'

*  *  *

Before leaving for southern Thailand, Osman devoted himself to finding out who had attacked Maryam, but the more closely he looked, the larger the body of suspects grew. Aziz said he was home, but no one was there who had seen him. Rahim fled to Thailand, Zaiton was wandering around contemplating mayhem, and her older sister Zainab claimed to have been picking up a few things at a nearby stall, though the timeline was vague.

Murad refused to account for his whereabouts at the time, which Osman took to mean he wasn't anywhere which would definitively clear him, and was therefore possibly the attacker. His wife, whose name Osman could not remember, was almost a wraith, and seemed to have trouble understanding what he was asking her. He wondered whether she was quite sane.

He asked Murad if he could speak to her, and Murad snorted in disgust. ‘If you think it will do any good,' he answered, accurately foretelling how Osman would feel after meeting her.

She was timid, and seemed afraid of her husband, who roughly (and, Osman thought, quite rudely) gestured for her to meet him. Murad then illustrated his contempt for the whole process by stomping off the porch and into the village, not even bothering to stay for the discussion. Osman thought he would be forced to insist that Murad leave so he could speak to the wife privately, but then Murad no doubt knew just how frustrating a conversation with her could be and decided to leave the policeman to it.

‘So,
Mak Cik
,' he began with a smile he hoped inspired confidence, ‘have you heard about what happened to
Mak Cik
Maryam?'

She regarded him quietly, but did not respond. She was small and pale, with steel-grey hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She seemed stooped and old, but when he thought about it, she was probably no older than Maryam and Rubiah, who seemed years younger and infinitely more energetic. She seemed to be melting into the background whenever he took his eyes off her, and perhaps she'd perfected that trick in order to stay out of Murad's way.

‘You know
Mak Cik
Jamillah has passed away.'

She smiled slightly. He took it as a ‘yes'.

‘
Mak Cik
Maryam is helping us with the investigation,' he told her. ‘You met her, right?' Again, she smiled. ‘And now she's been attacked.'

‘Really?' she whispered.

‘Yes!' he said, encouraged. ‘This was, let me see … about five days ago. We've been asking everyone where they were last Thursday night.'

‘Good!' she said softly.

‘And where were you?' he prompted.

‘With my son, Kamal,' she said, so softly he could hardly hear her.

‘Ah. Where?'

‘Kamal? Why, he lives here, of course! With us. He's captain of his own boat now.' She leaned closer to Osman, as though to impart something particularly important. ‘It's about time he got married. I'm looking for a nice girl for him.'

She leaned back and smiled, as though she expected congratulations on her plans. As though every mother in Malaysia didn't feel exactly the same way. No wonder Murad had walked away, if he had conversations like this with her every day. It's a wonder it didn't drive him mad as well.

Osman smiled at her and said goodbye, leaving her sitting on the porch with the smile still on her face.

Only when she was sure he'd left, and no one else could see her, did she relax. The smile disappeared, her eyes became alert again, and she leaned against the roof posts, looking out towards the sea, considering what she'd just found out.

Chapter XIV

The trap was set at the market. Ashikin asked Rosnah to stop in and pick up some cloth there, ostensibly a gift to her mother. Azmi was coming to help his mother on her second day back at work. It was a godsend, really; working to get Azmi married had distracted the women of the family completely. Maryam stopped worrying about the case, Aliza about her hair. They were all locked in strategy for bringing the couple together while Azmi was in Kota Bharu.

Maryam now concentrated her energies on directing Azmi to accidentally run into Rosnah. As he ambled through the market carrying some stock, Ashikin grabbed his arm and swung him around to face Rosnah, introducing them

‘Rosnah! Do you remember my brother Azmi?' she trilled, avoiding Azmi's eyes. ‘You haven't seen each other for ages. Azmi's on leave from the army!'Ashikin then grabbed the package and called, ‘Excuse me! I've got to help' and disappeared.

Rosnah smiled shyly at Azmi. ‘She's really busy,' she said of Ashikin. ‘How long are you back for?'

Azmi admired her smile. ‘Just a few days on leave. I'm stationed in Kok Lanas.'

‘Oh, not too far,' she replied, twisting her handbag slowly. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy yourself at home.'

Azmi smiled back at her. ‘Yes, I am, though this' – he gestured at the hubbub – ‘is a bit crazy.'

She nodded and agreed. ‘Yes, but it's how we make a living, isn't it?'

He kept smiling. She excused herself and ducked away, not wanting to prolong her first meeting with him. Though she hadn't been told, she knew the introduction was not random. She was of an age where everyone was trying to find her a husband, and any man to whom she was properly introduced was a prospect.

*  *  *

Osman met his Thai counterpart at the border town of Sungei Golok, across the river from Kelantan. He'd brought Zainab with him, in case they actually found Zaiton; as her older sister, no doubt she had some influence over the girl and would help bring her back. Rahim he would handle himself.

The Thai policeman, whose name he stumbled over every time he tried to say it, seemed bored and removed from the project. His Malay was non-existent and his English spotty, so communication between the two was difficult. Luckily, however, Rahim's family had finally disgorged information on their relatives here, and he had the name of the
kampong
. He also had Zainab to speak Kelantanese if necessary – the dialect in this very Malay part of Thailand was even thicker, if that was possible, than in Kelantan.

They were driven through Sungei Golok, the neighbourhood Sodom, where all manner of sin existed, many of which did not – or were not supposed to – exist in Kelantan.

During the day, it looked like any other market town, with stalls sprawling throughout, packed with Thai goods ranging from durian (the ‘durian Bangkok' widely believed to be the best variety ever) to kitchenware. In the evening, it would shimmer with lights: neon for the bars, strings of Christmas lights for the brothels, bare light bulbs and paraffin lanterns illuminating the night market.

The
kampong
in question was more utilitarian and a bit more run down than those in Kelantan, with houses closer together and less effort spent on flowers and keeping the yards clean.

Osman showed a picture of Rahim to everyone they met, asking if they knew where he was. Most of the villagers were wary of the police, and even warier of turning someone in to them, and it appeared that no one had seen him, or knew of him, or anyone related to him.

This area, Osman realized belatedly, was considered a hotbed of separatist activity, its inhabitants anxious to leave Thailand and join, or rejoin, their fellow Malays in Malaysia. They'd probably seen a good deal of the Thai police in recent years, and had learned to stay as far away as possible.

Zainab, however, had broken away from officialdom and had gone on her own to ask, telling everyone that she was looking for her younger sister who had run away from home with Rahim and how much she wanted her back. This, at last, was something everyone could understand, and Zainab was taken to the home where both Zaiton and Rahim were staying.

Zaiton greeted her with open-mouthed shock. ‘How did you find me?'

‘I had to come all the way here to look for you! What do you think you're doing?'

‘I'm here with Rahim!' she answered defiantly.

Rahim sought to defuse the situation. ‘It isn't what you think,
Kakak
,' he told her.

‘Really? What do I think?'

‘That I meant to, you know …' he blushed and looked uncomfortable. ‘Because I didn't.'

‘We're married!' Zaiton announced proudly.

‘What?' Zainab screeched.

Rahim's relatives gathered around her to calm things down, several explaining at once that Rahim's intentions were entirely honourable, and marriage was a respectable state, and they had witnessed it, and it was all legal. They had even given a small
kenduri
, a wedding feast to celebrate the occasion, so that Zainab would see this was no backstreet abduction, but a real and official wedding. Congratulations were in order!

Zainab took a firm hold of her sister's blouse and steered her rather roughly into a bedroom, pushed her on the bed and stood in front of her, arms akimbo, chin thrust forward and patience exhausted. ‘Start talking,' she ordered.

‘We're married,' Zaiton said firmly, but her defiance was already melting away. She twisted her hands, and then looked imploringly up at her. ‘I had to,
Kakak
. I'm having a baby.'

Zainab suspected this might be the case from the moment Zaiton had gone missing. ‘
Astaghfirullah
,' she moaned. ‘How could you?'

‘
Mak
knew.' Zaiton now began crying, but found absolutely no sympathy. ‘I told her, just before the
main puteri
.'

‘Our poor mother was already sick, needing to be cured, and you dropped this in her lap?'

‘I had to tell her, so she would understand. She said we would organize the wedding right after the ceremony. She said she was sure she would feel better afterward, and be ready to help me. I know she was angry, but not
that
angry. She understood.'

‘Understood?'

‘I know it was a mistake, really, I do. But now it's been made good. I'm married, we're in love,' – here Zainab rolled her eyes and considered slapping her – ‘and it will be fine. I'm not very far …'

‘Everyone will know anyway,' Zainab informed her. ‘Running away to Golok to get married. People aren't stupid, you know. Just you,' she added under her breath.

Now it was Zaiton's turn to stick out her chin. ‘I don't care. I'm married now. Rahim's parents know. We can live with them for a while.'

‘And leave
Ayah
all alone at a time like this?'

‘Well,' she said doubtfully, ‘I guess we can stay with him if he'd like. I'm afraid he won't want us. But I'd like to stay with
Ayah
if I could. I could help at
Mak
's stall, we can do it together.' She smiled tremulously, on the verge of crying again.

Zainab could see the advantage in that. Of course the two of them could take over their mother's business, it was only right as daughters that they do so. And if Zaiton and Rahim lived with their father, he wouldn't be lonely. When the baby came, he'd be with his grandchild and would no doubt love that. He'd get used to the fact that Zaiton (idiot!) had run away to get married – at least she'd gotten married.

Still, she deserved some punishment. Zainab suddenly leaned over and gave her foolish younger sister a hard smack across the face. Zaiton gasped and cried, holding her hand up to her cheek.

‘That's for getting pregnant before you were married. You know better than that! We'll make the best of it, we have to and we will. But aren't you ashamed?'

She nodded silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I am. I'm ashamed I worried
Mak
the way I did. And now
Ayah
too, and you. I've been terrible.' She cried into her hands.

‘Oh, stop it,' Zainab said tiredly, her mind already running over how to put it to their relatives and neighbours in the best possible light. She wondered if, according to religious law, the child would still be considered illegitimate. Maybe, but once it arrived, everyone would probably forget how it was conceived and Zaiton would be just another young wife and mother.

She'd missed out on a wedding, which every girl looked forward to. The
bersanding
, the sitting-in-state in the splendour
of songket
, with attendants fanning the new couple, the highlight of every wedding, would never be hers. But that was her choice, and she'd have to live with it. Maybe they could get a picture taken of them in rented finery so they'd have something to show their children.