Shadow Play by Barbara Ismail Page A

asked crossly. “What’s that got to do with anything? Or just nosy?”
    â€œI’m just asking,” Maryam explained. “I’m sure everything went well, but I don’t want to leave anything the police will then want to know more about.”
    The implied threat hung in the air as Faouda debated what to do. Her first choice would have been to tell Maryam and Rubiah to go to hell, but she rejected that early in her deliberation. She decided it was better to tell this old Mak Cik than have police show up. Everyone would talk about that, and she’d had enough of being the most interesting topic in all of Ulu Kelantan.
    â€œMy first marriage,” she began crisply, “was for two years. We just couldn’t agree, couldn’t get used to each other. No children, either, and so we decided to divorce. I was what, eighteen?” She turned to her mother as if seeking confirmation. Her mother nodded.
    â€œThe second was with Abang Yahya. He was a lot older than me, and had a first wife and kids. It just didn’t work out. Too old. He was always tired, and didn’t want to spend any money. It just wouldn’t work for me. Better to end it quickly than drag on something that doesn’t have a future, isn’t it? That’s all. No one’s dead, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
    Maryam nodded. “The next one should be just right,” she said sweetly. “Someone closer to your own age, a nice man.”
    â€œYeah, well I thought it might be Ghani, but it wasn’t. What can you do?” she ended on a philosophical note. “I keep hoping. Maybe a widower or someone divorced, like me. I don’t think I want to be a second wife anymore. It’s just not good for anyone, know what I mean?”
    They all agreed fervently. It wasn’t good for anyone: not for anyone female, at any rate.
    â€œGood Luck, Faouda,” Maryam rose to go, Rubiah close behind. “Thank you for talking to me. It’s very kind of you. I won’t keep you from your work.”
    Her mother rose and asked, as though it had just occurred to her, “Won’t you have something to drink?”
    â€œOh, thank you Kak , but perhaps another time. We can’t trouble you anymore!” Rubiah smiled as widely as she could, and she and Maryam ducked their heads, clasping the hands of first Faouda and then her mother.
    â€œOh, one more question,” Maryam asked suddenly. “When did you get back from Kota Bharu?”
    â€œI left right away,” Faouda answered quickly, looking at her mother, who nodded and leaned over her weaving. Maryam nodded, and she and Rubiah climbed carefully down the ladder, fearing the humiliation of pitching headfirst into the dirt. Luckily, they made it down without a scratch.

Chapter VIII
    Aisha,” Maryam sat with her on the porch of her parents’ house, “We know you were there. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
    Aisha looked tired, like she’d been crying for the past ten days; and perhaps she had. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she wore no makeup or jewelry. She looked at Maryam and then drew her hand down her face, as if erasing something from her cheeks. She continued to do it throughout their discussion, and Maryam found it unnerving, as though Aisha were slowly taking leave of her wits.
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œAt the Wayang Siam performance before Ghani passed away.”
    She sat stonily. “You’re wrong. I wasn’t there. I told you.”
    Maryam spoke to her as sweetly as she could. “Your brother Ali was seen there, Aisha. Did he have a fight with Ghani?”
    â€œI didn’t know,” she said petulantly. “I’m not feeling too well, Mak Cik. I’ve been to the bomoh , I’ve had spells and God knows what else, but it doesn’t seem to work.”
    â€œI can only imagine how unhappy you are now,” said Maryam, and