Chapter XXII

The family gathered back at the house. Pak Nik Lah came by to see how his patients were doing – they were both sound asleep. ‘That’s as it should be,’ he said approvingly. ‘That means it’s working.’

Pak Nik Lah himself looked as though he could use some sleep. ‘It’s tiring,’ he admitted, ‘but if it works, then it’s all worth it.’

Rubiah served him coffee and pressed large platters of cakes on his troupe, now packing up outside. They took their time getting their things together, pausing to eat, drink and smoke, speaking softly so as not to disturb those around them who might be trying to sleep.

Maryam and Aliza were put to sleep together in the children’s bedroom, and Mamat turned off the lights and lay down in his own bed, watching the window. It had been an amazing ceremony. He’d seen plenty of main puteri in his time, but this was the first time his own immediate family had been involved, and it was an emotional upheaval.

He never expected to be as moved as he was, watching Maryam and Aliza entranced: so brave, so lovely, so graceful. He’d been near to or in tears since Maryam first stood up. He thought he understood now why it was so often successful – the intensity of the trance, the immediacy of the spirits.

(And until then, Mamat wasn’t even sure he really believed in spirits, and didn’t expect to. But this ceremony had wrenched him out of his everyday existence and into another plane.)

In addition, the anxiety of hoping for a cure, all these things seemed to change the world he lived in. He’d expected a play, to be entertained, maybe be a little frightened. He hadn’t expected to feel transported. But now he felt like a different person.

He thought he would fall into sleep immediately, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing, so he lay there – alert, awake, considering the nature of the world and of spirits. He heard the noises of the kampong at night: the rustle of the doves in their cages on the porch, the settling of the geese in their baskets in the back, crickets and frogs.

It was soothing, after the noise and the crowd of the ceremony. The aftermath seemed so calm, so dark. A slight breeze rustled the palm fronds not far from the house; he could hear Yi turn in his sleep. And then …

He wasn’t sure he actually heard anything; had he imagined it? The softest possible footfall. He looked out the window, making no noise, but no shadows moved. He listened again, but the quiet was unbroken.

He was unable to relax now and told himself his imagination would not slow down. He eased himself up so he was sitting up in bed, leaning his back against the wall. He didn’t want to get too close to the window, lest he be seen. His ears seemed preternaturally alert now, as though he could identify each individual cricket if he wanted to.

He thought he heard it again, and froze in place. Now the shadows seemed to move; was it the breeze moving the trees? He held his breath, and hoped Malek was awake as well, guarding Maryam and Aliza as they had agreed.

He didn’t move his eyes from the window. It seemed an eternity in which nothing moved, no new noises presented themselves. And then, when he had almost convinced himself it was an overactive imagination, he saw a hand slowly come up onto the sill and stay there. And then the other hand. Mamat dared not even breathe. The fingers tightened on the sill, and a head and shoulders appeared, just leaning into the room.

Mamat propelled himself forward and grabbed the head, pulling the body into the room, roaring with rage, calling out to Malek and Daud and Osman, waiting silently in the living room, just inside the door. All the men crashed into the room, there was confused shouting. And then the lights turned on.

Kamal was splayed out on a bed, pinned down by Mamat at his head and Daud at his feet, and Osman already handcuffing him to the bed. All of them were breathing heavily, red in the face, and very angry.

‘Well,’ Osman demanded. ‘Explain what you’re doing here.’

Kamal looked around wildly, but said nothing. The veins in his neck pulsing, Osman pulled his arm roughly and demanded once more, ‘Talk to me! What do you think you’re doing?’

Yi’s voice came to them from under the window. ‘Ayah! Look at this!’

Four of them leaned out to see Yi holding up a tall but thin wooden box placed under the window. ‘He must have been standing on this,’ said Yi proudly.

‘Great work!’ Osman smiled. ‘He’s a smart kid,’ he said to Mamat as he turned to go out and gather his evidence.

‘He gets it from his mother,’ Mamat replied, taking a cigarette from the pack Daud passed around. They all relaxed now, congratulating each other while shooting dirty looks at Kamal, who sat morosely next to the bed rattling his handcuffs. Malek kicked his foot out of the way, looked at him insolently and muttered ‘sorry’ in the most unapologetic way possible.

Kamal appeared to be in for a very long night. Minutes later, they heard the sound of a police car arriving in Kampong Penambang, and Osman coming noisily up the stairs.

‘Look what I found!’ he announced, pushing a dishevelled Hamidah into the room in front of him. ‘She was hiding in the bushes,’ he said disgustedly. ‘Can you imagine? A woman her age?’

Her hair was matted in disarray, her face smudged with dirt, her hands filthy and her sarong black at the knees. And she was smiling – a horrible, lopsided smile which made her look like a ghoul.

Rubiah and her husband Dollah were over soon after, as dawn began to break and the first call to prayer broke the sleeping silence. She brought a full breakfast for everyone, and began making coffee and reheating the mound of curry puffs she’d brought as well, should anyone appear to be faint. The night’s heroics made everyone hungry and elated, and when Maryam and Aliza woke and emerged, they were greeted with congratulations and cheers. Both were smiling broadly.

‘How are you feeling, sayang?’ asked Mamat.

She beamed at him. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it. I didn’t think it would happen. I feel so much better! Like another person!’ She looked at Aliza, who smiled back, more shyly than her mother.

‘I think I’m better,’ she said, running her hand over the stubble on her head. ‘And I think my hair is longer.’

‘I think so, too,’ Yi assured her. ‘I can definitely see it.’

‘When this scar fades,’ Maryam announced, as Malek winced – he couldn’t bear hearing about the enam sembilan mark on her forehead – ‘I’ll be as good as new. No one will ever know this happened. Even me!’

Rubiah threw her arms around Maryam, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I’m so happy,’ she whispered to her. ‘I was so afraid.’

‘So was I,’ Maryam admitted. ‘But I feel like it’s behind me now, or will be soon. I’m going to be fine.’

They both turned to Aliza to admire her. ‘Do you remember any of it?’

‘Not really,’Aliza confessed. ‘Did I dance?’

‘Did you dance?’ her father asked, giddy with relief. ‘I’ve never seen anyone dance so beautifully. Like an angel, like a bidadari! It was amazing.’

Malek nodded enthusiastically. ‘Your feet hardly touched the ground!’ he assured her. ‘It was something to see!’

‘You were lovely!’ Rubiah added, caressing her head for a moment. She then handed her a plate piled with her favourite cakes, and nasi kerabu wrapped in a banana leaf. This latter was a hearty Kelantan breakfast of blue rice cooked in coconut milk, topped with fish and vegetables and egg.

‘Now, you’d better eat and get all your strength back!’ Rubiah was a great believer in the restorative powers of cakes, which she considered a miracle food.

‘Do you remember anything?’ Mamat asked Maryam.

She shook her head. ‘Not really. Not after I saw Pak Nik Lah dancing in front of me.’

‘Well, you danced silat, you know,’ Mamat told her. ‘Like a real warrior. I don’t know where you learned it.’

‘Silat?’ Maryam considered this. ‘I don’t know anything about silat.’

‘You don’t think you do, but believe me, you can do it! I was never so surprised.’

Surprise filled her face, as she applied herself to curry puffs and coffee. ‘It gives you quite an appetite,’ she explained. ‘I’m starved.’

Rubiah looked beneficently on, wholeheartedly approving of this show of hunger. It was, in her eyes, the best possible outcome.