Shadow Play by Barbara Ismail Page B

she could. If this were her daughter, her beautiful Ashikin, she’d be wild with worry and helplessness. “It will pass, you know, it always does.”
    Aisha nodded. “That’s what people tell me.” She plucked at her sarong. “You know, Ghani was too young to die; he still has small children.” She rubbed her eyelids almost absently. He didn’t have a chance to really live yet, Mak Cik. And someone else killed him. Not me.” She seemed to drift off.
    â€œBut Ali…”
    Suddenly, she was all attention. “Ali didn’t do anything. Why don’t you go to Arifin’s house down the road?” Maryam tried to recollect who that might be. “The man who plays the gong in the orchestra,” Aisha said impatiently. “Didn’t you talk to him?”
    Maryam shook her head. “Not yet.”
    â€œHe was always jealous of Ghani. He thought his wife liked Ghani, maybe something was going on. It wasn’t though: his wife likes to flirt sometimes, but she’d never go farther than that. And I used to think Ghani wouldn’t either. I was wrong, wasn’t I? Anyway, he used to argue with Ghani all the time, even came over here once to yell at him.”
    â€œWell,” she turned to Maryam, Why don’t you ask him and leave my brother alone? I’ve had enough. I can’t even think about something happening to Ali. Just leave it alone, Mak Cik , please.”
    Aisha rose and drifted into the house without a word. Maryam sat for a moment, wondering what had happened to her, when her mother came out the door.
    â€œDon’t be angry at Aisha,” she said, brushing her hands on her sarong and taking a quick look into the house again. She sat down next to Maryam and produced a cigarette immediately: this was clearly her smoking break. They lit up.
    â€œShe’s been like this for about a week. I’m afraid Kak , look at her. She’s in a fog. I took her to the bomoh , I had the imam come and prayover her, I don’t know what to do and that’s the truth.”
    â€œIt’s so hard to be a mother,” Maryam sympathized. “When something doesn’t go well for your children, you wish you could take their place.”
    â€œIn a moment,” her mother agreed. “Don’t listen to what she’s saying right now. She’s not thinking.”
    â€œIs it true that Arifin came to their house to yell at Ghani?”
    â€œOh, that’s true enough!” Her mother laughed softly. “You should have seen it: his wife hanging on his shirt and sarong trying to pull him back to the house, him dragging her through the kampong. I thought she’d pull the clothes off him.
    â€œIt was nothing, you know. Ghani didn’t do anything with the wife. That time, anyway,” she ended sourly. “Women turned out to be the death of him.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhat do you think I mean? That second wife, she killed him. That was a disaster from the start. Of course she did.” She took a deep drag on her cigarette.
    â€œI don’t know if it was even a real marriage! She married Ghani so soon after her first divorce.”
    â€œI wondered about that,” Maryam answered.
    Hasnah shrugged. “You see how Aisha mourns for Ghani. She’d never hurt him. Scold him, yes, but kill him? Never.” She flicked her cigarette over the porch and rose to return to the house. Her break was over.
    Maryam rose too, ready to leave. “ Kak , one more question, what about Ali?”
    She walked into the house. “He didn’t do it,” she called out toMaryam, “the second wife, or whatever she was, did it. Believe me.”

Chapter IX
    Maryam had only been back at work for the better part of the morning. Her daughter Ashikin had taken over the stall, and Maryam trusted her business instincts, having trained her herself, yet she couldn’t stay away much