Suleiman started this whole thing,’ Maryam announced, ‘and since he’s gone home to Puteh, we’ve got to speak to both of them.’
Rubiah nodded absently. ‘Why did Suleiman start it?’
‘Because he got married. That’s when everything started to happen.’
‘I think it all started with Ruslan, when he lost all his money. That’s where Yusuf was going when he was killed. Not to see Suleiman’
‘Suleiman set him off,’ Maryam dismissed her objections, and Rubiah, as she often did, decided to let it go rather than argue.
Puteh’s place was not far from where both Maryam and Rubiah lived, but this was not where the owners of the kain songket emporia lived, or even the successful sellers of fabrics. This was smaller, cheaper, flimsier, and Puteh’s house, though solid, still gave the impression it might collapse, given an excuse. The house was packed, with seven children and their parents. Suleiman was moping on the front porch, acting the part of an upright citizen home with his family. Puteh, Maryam surmised, was inside cleaning or cooking or caring for the children, which Suleiman would not have seen as his responsibility.
The women hailed him as good neighbours and stood at the bottom of the ladder, watched by several small children distracted by the new arrivals. Suleiman removed the cigarette from his mouth and, acting as a benevolent host, gave them a large smile, beckoning them to climb the ladder and join him on the porch.
‘Teh,’ he called into the house through the open door, ‘look who’s come here to see us! Get your mother,’ he ordered one of the boys peeking out through a window. He turned and indicated a place for the women to sit. He smiled jovially and produced a package of Rothman’s cigarettes, offering some to his guests. How could he afford that, Maryam wondered? She would never allow herself the luxury, though Mamat did, and she was far better off than Suleiman, who was living hand to mouth at best, Perhaps this was part of the whole gambler’s attitude: living on dreams and hope rather than on the money you actually had.
Suleiman’s wide smile was pasted firmly on his face, overlaying the fear he felt seeing these two prominent Mak Cik come to see him. He was no longer a child, he continued to remind himself, and could not be summarily scolded, but part of him dreaded it nevertheless. He believed he could read the judgement in their eyes, that they disapproved of him and all he had done, and his coming back to Puteh was not a mark in his favour, but only the last option of a man at the end of his tether. Reprimanding or not, he could do nothing more than entertain them as best he could. He looked nervously for Puteh, hoping she could carry this off better than he could: they would not consider her at fault.
‘When did you get back?’ Rubiah inquired sweetly, causing Suleiman to blush bright red and stare at his feet. What did he have that two women wanted him? She couldn’t imagine.
‘Yesterday,’ he mumbled, thinking the lecture was now at hand.
Rubiah would not be constrained by decency. ‘So, you left Khatijah now?’
He nodded cautiously, unwilling to set her off.
‘And Puteh’s taken you back?’
‘What else can I do with seven children?’ Puteh answered spiritedly as she walked out the door. ‘They need a father.’ Even this one, she implied, but it remained unsaid. ‘Mak Cik, let me get you something. You must be hot! Come, don’t sit in the sun, cool off in the shade.’
She shooed them over to a shady corner as if they were well-dressed chickens, giving her husband a look clearly ordering him out of the way. He sloped out of the shade into the less desirable sun, squinting against the light while trying to seem soigné. Puteh gave rapid-fire orders to her oldest daughter, then turned amiably back to her guests.
‘So nice to see you.’
‘And you too, and I’m happy it’s in better times,’ Rubiah said with a significant look towards the lightly sweating Suleiman. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to see that everything is back to normal.’
Puteh smiled and shrugged. What can you do, she implied, when you’re already graced with seven children and no income? At least with him back, it was always possible he might make some money and actually bring it home.
‘We got married again yesterday.’
‘I couldn’t leave my family, I realized that,’ Suleiman interjected with a note of pride, even though Maryam and Rubiah believed it was probably Khatijah who realized that, not him. Nevertheless, someone had realized it and acted upon it, and it was all for the better.
But enough chitchat, Maryam thought, once the tea and cookies had arrived and Puteh graciously put forth the best the house had to offer.
‘We are here on a delicate matter,’ she began, looking earnestly at both her hosts. ‘You know Che Yusuf has been killed, and, of course, we must speak to everyone who knew him … professionally.’
She wasn’t at all sure this was really what she meant: after all, professional seemed to imply someone far more accomplished than Yusuf, but she was loathe to immediately jump into the problems of gambling. ‘I know you knew him well, and had for several years,’ she said neutrally to Suleiman, ‘so I wanted to ask you about him.’
Suleiman sat silent, smoking his cigarette, his shoulders slightly hunched as though expecting a good dressing-down.
‘Suleiman?’ Rubiah prompted him, hoping he would begin on his own. He looked up, startled. ‘Oh! Yes! Yes, I mean, I did know him. Of course.’ He smiled all around, and Puteh looked quite murderous as she considered him.
‘You spent a lot of time at his place.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you often win?’ Rubiah asked, cutting through any politeness.
‘Sometimes,’ said Suleiman. ‘No,’ said Puteh at the same time.
‘Where did you get the money to gamble?’
Perhaps it was none of her business (though Maryam did not consider anything to fall into that category), but she was so curious!
‘I work,’ Suleiman said defensively.
Puteh snorted. ‘He works as a porter sometimes at the market. Not that often, though.’
‘And then you use it to gamble.’
‘No! I use it to support my family!’ he cried. ‘I don’t spend it all on myself.’
‘Most of it,’ Puteh corrected him. ‘His parents give us money sometimes.’ There was a world of hurt, disappointment and humiliation in that sentence.
‘So tell me,’ Maryam leaned over and dropped her voice, ‘did you ever owe Che Yusuf a lot of money? Did he ever try to collect from you?’
Suleiman stared at the floor, but Puteh grew scarlet with indignation. ‘All my jewelry! All my gold bangles! Not that I had such a large collection,’ she admitted, ‘but it was mine! And I had to give it to him so he wouldn’t beat Suleiman.’ Her colour had not subsided.
‘Maybe I should have kept them,’ she spat, ‘and just let him do what he wanted. We had to pay up. I mean, we knew what would happen if we didn’t. Maybe even the children would be hurt. I don’t know. All my jewelry, and a small piece of land Suleiman inherited. Coconuts. Anything we had we didn’t actually have to eat.’ She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself down.
‘Is that how Yusuf worked?’ Maryam asked. ‘Finding the people who had something, anything at all, and then letting them get in deeper and deeper until he could take it all from you?’
Puteh nodded. ‘I don’t think he’d let you run up too much of a debt if he didn’t think you had something he could use. He was smart that way. And mean.’
Suleiman tried feebly to protest, but Puteh overruled him immediately. ‘You think he was a nice man? You think he was forgiving? He knew you were weak and he used it to get anything we had. But you gave him the opportunity.’ She glared at him and he shrank back. ‘And,’ she added venomously, ‘he introduced him to Khatijah.’
‘He had nothing to do with that,’ Suleiman cried, stung. ‘No one introduced us. She was just … there. And anyway, it’s over and I’m back. Aren’t you happy about that? That I came back, to take care of you and the children?’
Are you taking care of us,’ she asked ominously. ‘You’re in charge now?’ Her voice had been rising as she spoke, and she suddenly became aware she was now audible to many of her neighbours, and she dropped it to a low growl, which Maryam thought was even more intimidating than a shout.
‘Then maybe you should go to work. Because you can’t go back to gambling, even if Cik Noriah opens the place again. You have nothing! We have nothing! And no one will let you run up a debt without any land to give away. You realize that, don’t you.’
With great effort, Puteh calmed herself into silence, though she was still breathing heavily. Maryam pitied her and the burden of anger she so clearly held. It would be so hard to get rid of, and it was deserved. She wondered how Puteh would ever be able to live contentedly with Suleiman after all this. It didn’t seem as though she had many options either.