Spirit Tiger (18 page)

Suleiman was unfocused, but frankly, Puteh could see no difference; he'd always been unfocused. If he moped around the house, what was it to her? She had seven children to take care of, and she refused to allow Suleiman to become the eighth. There were times when she felt she could gladly kill him, and then wondered why she had been so unhappy when he married Khatijah. But it was complicated. Perhaps she had been more insulted that he had gone off with another woman than bereft because she missed him. There was nothing to miss really, an opinion probably shared by most of the people who knew him. As she walked through the house cleaning up, she had to force herself to ask him to move rather than throw large objects at him to accomplish the same thing. Either one would do.

Din was at home, still pondering his options, as he had for several days. He was proud of having gone to the police, and every time he told the story – which was often and loudly – the feat grew larger in his mind, more heroic, more deserving of praise. Hadn't he ignored the danger posed by the Thai gangsters, who surely had no compunctions about killing, and gone to the police instead of staying home, hiding under the
tikar
? He had.

The arrival of the Thais had actually surprised him, as had the assertion that his debt was still owed. He had already decided, unilaterally, that the debt was wiped out by Yusuf's death and would not be dissuaded. No one would get him to pay it, it no longer existed, and if Noriah wanted to pursue it, she'd have to pry it out of him herself.

He could now apply himself to deciding where he might continue to practice his favourite hobby. He leaned toward Tak Bai, since it was in Thailand and there were no neighbours looking disapprovingly at him. He was pleased to have almost come to a decision, and reflected with gratitude on Yusuf's death. Relieved of all debt and obligation, he was now free.

Munira was tired of fighting, tired of living. She had gone to her sister's in Pasir Puteh, actually managing to get herself out of Kota Bharu, but it did no good. She could not see a future for herself anywhere. She had thrown her life away on Ruslan, and not even for love. It was just what happened.

She looked over her pitiful belongings: an extra sarong, a T-shirt, a bottle of shampoo and her
tikar
. It was all she owned now, and would probably be all she'd ever own. She did have a plan of sorts, which she'd been working out in her mind since she had heard Ruslan had been killed.

She left her bundle in the corner – maybe her sister would be able to use something – and walked to the beach. She watched the water for a long time, not even really seeing it, and then, slowly, she walked into the surf, going forward until it was over her head and she could at last feel the tug of the riptide which would carry her far out to sea, where she would never be found.

And Khatijah was fine, home with her daughter and delighted to be there. Yusuf and what he had tried to do to her was a bad dream; Siti Hawa was her reality. She counted herself one of the most contented women in all Kelantan.

Chapter XXV

With Osman ill, Rahman earnestly attempted to assume the mantle of Kota Bharu police chief (acting), and the first thing he did was go straight to Rubiah's house to plead for her – and Maryam – to abandon their malingering and get back to work. He needed them. Kelantan needed them.

News of Munira's suicide had come in from the Pasir Puteh police, where her sister had gone when she could not be found. Sitting on the steps of Rubiah's house in the afternoon, they were both silent upon hearing the news.

‘That poor woman,' Rubiah sighed. ‘What a life, poor thing.'

‘It's a shame,' Maryam agreed, ‘but I think a lot of it was her own fault. You can't just float along, you know. Who knows what Ruslan might have done if she'd taken charge and made him stop gambling?'

Rahman pictured a Ruslan with a wife like Maryam or Rubiah. He'd shape up immediately or find himself back with his parents with nothing but the clothes on his back. Who knew what kind of pillar of the community he might have been if only he'd had the proper encouragement? If he had lived through such encouragement, that is.

‘She might have improved his character,' Rubiah continued. ‘But we shouldn't talk about him – it's Munira who died. Imagine how unhappy she must have been.'

Maryam was in no mood to wax sentimental about Munira. She was sorry for her, but had little respect for people without the discipline to make something of themselves. ‘Yes, very sad,' she said, brusquely dismissing any eulogies. ‘I need to ask Pak Lah if I can finally get back to my life.'

Rubiah looked at her carefully: she understood how anxious Maryam was to get back to work on all fronts, but she feared a hidden weakness that might drag her back into the morass from which she'd just escaped. They would see what Pak Lah recommended.

Rahman was dispatched to bring the
bomoh
to the house, and he arrived in the good mood he almost always displayed. ‘What's this I hear?' he asked. ‘You're wanted back at the police?'

Maryam nodded and tried not to look
too
anxious. After all, she had just recently decreed she was able to enjoy sitting on Rubiah's porch.

‘I think it would be alright,' Pak Lah said slowly, his eyes on Rubiah, to see her reaction. She looked calm, which made him all the more confident, for he knew she would have been the most vociferous dissenter if she thought Maryam unready.

‘I think you can go home.' He smiled, ‘I'll bring some
jampi
to your house later.'

‘Can I see Ashikin?' she asked.

‘If you're cured, you're cured,' he told her. ‘I wouldn't say so if I didn't think you could do everything you did before.'

‘I must see my children first,' she told Rahman as she stood up, stretching in the open air as she had not been able to for such a long time. She fairly hopped down the steps on her way to her house, where she was greeted this time with enthusiasm by the geese who guarded the house. She looked at them, and they returned the look, edgily, as geese do, but clearly recognizing her as the human who owned the house.

This bedlam brought Aliza to the door, and she flung herself into her mother's arms. ‘I missed you,' she mumbled into her shoulder, beginning to cry from relief. ‘I was afraid you were never coming back.'

‘Of course, I came back!' Maryam cried as well, patting Aliza's thick hair. Being away from home had given her new eyes to see her children. Aliza was as tall as she was (admittedly, no great feat) and so pretty, it surprised her. ‘You're so beautiful,' she blurted, crying and smiling at the same time. ‘I didn't really think about you being so grown up and so …'

Aliza smiled. ‘One of Azmi's friends asked him about me,' she whispered. ‘Can you believe it?'

‘What did Azmi say?' She feared everything had gone to hell in a hand basket while she was gone, but a proposal? She wasn't ready for that!

‘No, of course.' She giggled. ‘But it was the first time anyone asked.'

‘And it won't be the last,
sayang
. It's too early for you, you're still in school.'

She was prevented from immediately diving back into her role as mother by Yi's arrival, which was just as jubilant.

‘Ashikin?' she asked. ‘Has she …?'

‘Not yet,' Aliza informed her. ‘Any minute now, I think.'

Maryam feared Ashikin would not want to see her, would turn away from her for abandoning her so close to her time.

‘Rosnah is with her, helping. She and Azmi are taking Nuraini.' She paused. ‘But you're home now,' she squeezed her mother's arm, ‘So Nuraini can stay here.' She beamed at Maryam and even included Yi in the smile, such was the extent of her joy.

‘Where's
ayah
?' Maryam asked. She looked around for Mamat, suddenly reluctant to see him and hear what he might say.

‘He's at Ashikin's. Let's go!' Not even realizing their mother was reluctant, they dragged her the short distance to her daughter's house, where Mamat sat on the steps holding Nuraini. The child shrieked in delight and held out her hands to her grandmother, while Mamat could not have looked more amazed if he had heard one of the geese begin to speak.

‘I'm back. I'm out!' Maryam exclaimed unneccessarily. ‘Are you … glad?' She wondered – after it was too late, of course – if it were really a good idea to ask him such a blunt question.

Mamat looked astounded, and then began to blush furiously. Ashikin came to the door, drawn by the voices, and shouted a hello.

‘
Mak
! Come up! I can't come down now.' She held her back. ‘I think today or maybe tomorrow – I'm so glad you're here to help. Everything is alright, isn't it?' She looked anxiously back and forth between her mother and father. Maryam burst into tears.

Her children swarmed around her, patting her, crying, smiling in their excitement to have her back. In the midst of the bedlam, Mamat stood stock still. The crowd moved upstairs to Ashikin's house, but she lingered on the porch, regarding her father with a frown that usually struck fear into the hearts of anyone around her, but Mamat was oblivious.

‘
Ayah
? What's wrong?'

Mamat didn't answer, but continued to stare into the yard. Nuraini had squirmed out of his grasp during the commotion and shrieked with excitement to see her
nenek
again. ‘
Ayah
, what's wrong?' He waved his arm dismissively, as if to say it was of no importance. Ashikin did not have an overabundance of patience in the best of times, and now she had none.

‘Tell me!' she ordered him.

‘Nothing,' he mumbled. ‘I just hope she's alright.'

Ashikin made a leap of intuition which only she could make, and when she did, it was always with amazing insight.

‘You're embarrassed,' she reported briskly. ‘You thought she asked for this, that she wanted it somehow. I've thought the same myself, and I was angry too, because I needed her here and she was off being cured of being a were-tiger, of all things!' She snorted with disdain. ‘But you know,
Ayah
, she was cursed and we were wrong. Just apologize.'

He said nothing.

‘She'll forgive you. Come on in,
Ayah
.' She turned to go in, and saw a figure coming quickly up the path. ‘It's Azmi,' she said, squinting into the sun. ‘He must have heard she's back. Azmi!' She called to him. ‘
Mak
's inside!'

‘
Ayah
!' Azmi greeted him with great affection. ‘Isn't it wonderful she's back?' He bounded up the stairs to join the others.

Mamat thought about Ashikin's analysis, and agreed; she was right about it all. He should apologize to Maryam, but he was so embarrassed!

Maryam and Rubiah were in the car the next morning, Maryam fairly bouncing with excitement to have her life back. They had been briefed, and knew they needed to get the truth out of Noriah as no one else could. It was
Mak Cik
vs
Mak Cik
, evenly matched.

Rahman had not wanted to interrupt Maryam's homecoming, and he had been plied with so many cakes, he wanted only to go home and sleep – which, in fact, he did immediately upon leaving her house. And now, the next morning, they were all primed and ready to work. Rahman politely left the car to get Maryam, who was blissfully making breakfast for her family, and Aliza came to the porch to ask him to wait.

And then came the thunderbolt.

Rahman was transfixed to the spot. Aliza just stared at him, staring at her. Rubiah could see only Aliza's face, and wondered what had happened to keep her normally bouncy niece so still.

As Maryam walked onto the porch, she could only see Rahman's face: he looked as though he had been hit over the head but hadn't fallen yet. She was concerned, until she walked a few steps and saw Aliza, who was jolted out of her trance by her mother's arrival. With a brilliant smile at Rahman, which fairly staggered him, she wished her mother a wonderful day, hugged her again, and ran into the house, leaving Rahman gaping after her.

Maryam had seen this sort of thing before, when Daud first set eyes on Ashikin, for example, but she hadn't expected it yet with Aliza. Stupid of her, she chided herself – look at the girl! She placed a maternal hand on Rahman's arm and pushed him toward the car. ‘She's going to teacher's college next year,' she began conversationally, ‘she's a very good student.'

‘Perhaps a bit early to be married,' Rubiah added.

‘Indeed,' Maryam agreed. ‘But maybe not to be engaged while she went to school …'

‘True,' said Rubiah. ‘Engagement would be alright. With the right boy, of course.'

Rahman's ears, which they could see from the back seat, turned bright red, so red it looked painful.

‘She'd want someone who was professional, you know. Army, like her brother, or maybe,' she was suddenly struck with an idea which it seemed had never occurred to her before, ‘Police.'

Rahman coughed and attempted to speak.

‘Well, we'd have to see if anyone's parents come to see us. Did you know,' she said to Rubiah, her eyes dancing, ‘one of Azmi's friends asked him about her?'

‘No! Already? Well, she's a nice girl.'

‘People say she's pretty,' Maryam said modestly, employing the most common way of praising your children to someone else. ‘They say it.'

‘And they're right!' Rubiah agreed stoutly.

‘Of course, Azmi told his friend “no”. I mean she's young, and I guess he didn't think this friend would suit her.'

‘There'll be a lot of people asking, you just wait and see. I don't doubt more than one boy will find
nasi dimakan berasa lilin:
the rice he eats tastes like wax.'

Rahman sat woodenly in front of them, hoping Aliza would come out of the house on her way to school, so he could see her again.