‘You said you were thirsty.’
‘Thirsty and hungry.’
Percy glanced at the tired sheet of card, and shrank back. ‘Uh. Sal. It looks awful.’
‘Percy!’ Sal’s eyes flicked from him to the girl hovering close by, who stepped forward and asked if they would like a drink.
‘Good idea,’ Percy pounced. ‘C’mon. Shall we just do that? Then eat somewhere nicer?’
Sal rolled her eyes, and again looked to the waitress, this time clearly transmitting an apology. ‘I’m hungry. Here is fine for lunch. Let’s splash out on an evening meal instead. Yes?’
Percy sensed he was defeated.
*
Dinner that evening was magnificent, and over coffee Percy looked lovingly at Sal, who fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze.
He had been right about lunch, and overall the experience was poor. The venue, though pleasantly located, pitched itself entirely at children and young families, and Percy was cornered into having pizza, something he didn’t like. He chose it because everything else came in a basket. Food in a basket was a concept he admired even less than flattened bread smeared in soggy tomato, but the fact was his pizza came in a basket too, pre-sliced and ready to pick up. For him, it was quite literally the worst meal imaginable. Sal had a Caesar salad, which looked so chunky Percy questioned aloud whether it might also be a candidate for basket presentation. For Percy, two pints of lager was the saving grace, but dinner that evening went on to make up for it all.
It had been a long shot whether or not there would be an available table at the grand place they had selected, searching the Internet while sitting together on the low bowed trunk of a coconut palm. Sal had heard much of the restaurant’s fine reputation, and though located quite near to where they were, Sal wanted to drive up to check it out rather than tempt fate with a phone call.
There was, of course, no free table, a great disappointment after stepping with hopeful hearts across beautiful grey slabs that seemed to float in dark water, dotted with lilies. The setting was faultless, the lights of the ships in the surrounding sea once more taking on a tranquil beauty, exquisite against the deepening night. Percy was enthralled by the perfection laid out before him. He was less enthralled to discover that Sal recognised two guests waiting to be seated, her colleague and Joyann’s husband, Ethan Tan, and an American called Buck Cherry. It was with some effort that Percy forced himself into silence on hearing this name. Two other guests were not going to make it, Ethan told them, and so there were two spaces at their table should Sal and Percy care to join them. Ethan added that he hoped they would, and Buck Cherry agreed enthusiastically. Percy’s heart had sunk at the very thought of it.
‘Their flight was delayed in KL,’ said Buck, ‘some problem with the airplane.’
Percy had winced. Airplane. He could plainly hear the lack of vowels. ‘It’s annoying when aer-o-planes are delayed,’ he’d remarked, ensuring emphasis on the extra sound.
No one else noticed or cared, it seemed. Even Sal did not bat an eyelid.
Before sitting down, Percy tried hard to convey to Sal his desire to leave. Unable to speak privately, he had offered his entire repertoire of imploring looks. Sal, he eventually realised, was ignoring him.
So he had been forced to make the best of things. He did not need to avoid conversation with the men, since both were engaged fully with Sal, all three immersed in questions of business. On the odd occasion they remembered Percy’s presence, he politely shooed them back into their own world, as if giving permission to ignore him. For Percy, the situation could not have turned out better, and the food was the best he had tasted in a very long time.
After dessert, Ethan and Buck left, Ethan leaving instructions for Sal to settle the bill on the company when she was finished. Percy barely had cause to look at them or speak with them for the entire evening, but even so was grateful when they’d gone. What he had forgotten was to be grateful when they were there.
‘You could have said thank you, Percy.’
‘What for? For Ethan Tan letting us spend company money? It’s not his money, Sal.’
‘For inviting us to join them. And yes, for allowing us to put it on expenses.’
‘Well I suppose it’s not exactly fraudulent. It turned into a meeting in any case.’
For a moment Sal was quiet. ‘It did,’ she eventually agreed. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘No problem. You know me; I like to keep myself to myself. Apart from when I am with you, that is. And now it is just you and me.’ He reached across and placed a hand on Sal’s.
‘Have you had enough of everything? Anymore coffee?’ she asked. ‘Or a nightcap?’
‘We could have a nightcap at home.’
Sal smiled the sort of smile that after a busy day always expands into a yawn. ‘I am exhausted. I don’t know how you cope with doing nothing all day.’
He ignored the comment.
‘I’ll be going straight to sleep I’m so weary,’ Sal covered her widening mouth, before smiling again, as if she had not just delicately closed and locked her chastity belt.
‘Then I’ll have one here,’ Percy said, disappointed to learn that the wonderful day was not going to climax in the way he’d been hoping.
Chapter 6
GARDEN OF EDEN
The text came from Joyann as promised, so Percy put on his thinnest cotton shorts and shirt, rubbed sunscreen onto his face, and after stepping out through the glass doors, liberally sprayed his limbs with insect repellent.
It was a greasy and rather smelly affair, but he was growing used to the routine. The sun did not look hot through the gauze of cloud, and only once since arriving in Singapore had he thought he could get away with not using protection, almost bragging as much to Sal. That evening had seen him red-faced in more ways than one. So now, unless the cloud was dark and thick, he covered up. On clear sunny days, he even wore a hat, the sort he believed Australians hung corks from, though Percy’s had none since Sal had moved exclusively to screw caps. He’d thought about using them instead, and then felt like an idiot.
Satisfied he was suitably safeguarded against sunburn and bites, Percy locked up the house and set off for the bus stop. He had been many times to the Botanic Gardens, in fact it was his favourite place to be, and so he felt a certain contentment concerning the day ahead. The only apprehension was in regard to Joyann. This was to be the inaugural meeting of her official Discussion Group, which meant he would have to talk, and only to her, plus they barely knew each other.
Once on the bus, he gazed from the window, watching the houses pass by. It amazed Percy how thoroughly new building plots were filled, as if all Singaporean developers were agoraphobic. One moment a pretty old bungalow stood in a delightful green oasis, and the next two glass and concrete mansions covered every last square millimetre of ground. In Britain, there would have been twenty new homes, of course. Maybe thirty. But they all would have gardens; though only big enough to accommodate one pair of size eight feet.
There was nothing to worry about, he soon decided, as the bus rolled on. Joyann was easy company. She wasn’t Art, of course, but Percy certainly felt comfortable in her presence. Art. Percy made a mental note to email him, a task yet to be done.
In a short time the bus drew into the grounds of the gardens, and Percy climbed off. As he did so, his phone pinged. It was another message from Joyann, apologising. She said she was still free to meet, but not for another hour or more. Did he want to cancel?
Ordinarily something like this would have seen Percy snarling, but instead he drew in a long, hot, airless breath and headed for the café, replying to Joyann as he walked.
Take your time. Will have a drink and then a stroll. Let me know when you leave.
It was a comfortable day, cool by Singapore standards, though Percy was glad to be dressed as he was. It was a cloudy twenty-nine degrees that even he could not deny, because for once radio and thermometer were in agreement. As always, w
hen the temperature dropped by a degree or two, the weatherman suggested hot chocolate and cardigans, stopping short of a roaring log fire only because no one in Singapore would have such a thing as a fireplace. Already time was softening Percy’s attitude to heat, but still he could not imagine an occasion when drinking something hot whilst wearing woollen clothing would be welcome, other than in the cinema. Sal had forced him there, and nearly died from hypothermia as her penance. Percy hadn’t felt quite as cold as Sal, but his eardrums nearly haemorrhaged with the volume. With his senses blasted, on leaving the cinema all Percy wanted was a hot bath in silence, although he would have accepted a little moaning had Sal been willing to let him warm her up. But once home, the stifling house temperature dictated a cold shower and when Percy crept into bed Sal was already asleep. At least, she had her eyes closed.
On a seat beneath an African oil palm, one of several situated outside the Botanic Gardens café, Percy sucked up a large fresh watermelon juice before setting off on a walk to fill the time. Ordinarily, he would have used one of the tables and started with a coffee and finished with juice, but today did not feel as an ordinary day. Once on the move, he walked steadily, watching with vague interest the cumbersome form of a man and his dog hurtling along the footpath some distance ahead.
All around him were the usual sights of the gardens, and as he strolled he absorbed all he could. He’d liked this part of Singapore from the outset. In the shade of several huge fig trees, groups of older, local, people were engaged in tai chi classes, slowly manoeuvring, carefully following the positions of their Sifu as she moved. Amongst them Percy spotted one or two white people; how long did it take before an outsider felt able to join in, he wondered. Then he checked himself. Could they be locals, too? How could he know? Coming from a country with a mixed population, it was hard to appreciate somewhere else might not be as diverse. Yet clearly Singapore was, so what was bothering him? He thought a little harder, and recognised the difference. Indian, Chinese, Malay, this was the Singaporean mix. White people were expats. Black people were barely represented. As he pondered, he spotted a group of people copying the tai chi class from a discreet distance. They looked to be locals, he decided, but such cheapskate actions might be found anywhere in the world.
As the planted beds opened up into spacious green lawns, Percy noticed a young model posing in tiny clothes with cutesy hair, a giant cuddly toy clutched in her skinny arms. She seemed so young, but then who didn’t, apart from the tai chi crew, of course? His birthday was coming up soon, something Percy was trying hard not to think about, a denial proving difficult in a country where reminders came in the form of almost every face he looked at; where to him any age other than very old age was indeterminate. By indeterminate, he really meant the majority looked enviably young. He knew about the black hair dye, of course, for Sal had told him and he’d seen acres of it in the pharmacy every time he’d bought sunscreen. Even so, when it came to age, Nature’s hand had not treated the world’s population evenly, he felt.
In the centre of the lawn, where the short, coarse, grass met a lake surrounding a performance stage, a satin and lace bride stood together with her smart, suited, groom. They were also posing. Percy thought the stage was interesting, but couldn’t decide if it looked more like a mushroom or a woodlouse, with its grey, reaching canopy. He also couldn’t fathom what the photographer was trying to achieve by using this backdrop, although he knew exactly where they would all go next. They would stand inside a waterfall, further into the gardens. This was where Percy had first noticed the endless stream of young wedding couples, noticing too, that aside from a photographer, they were entirely alone. Oracles had informed him that these were for Chinese Christian weddings; photographs came ahead of the big day. What if, in the end, there was no big day, Percy had asked. Sal had shrugged and, unsmiling, suggested the bride might use the picture for target practice. Only now, standing in the gardens, did Percy wonder why the bride?
Leaving behind the happy couple, and what he supposed was a big day in itself, Percy walked on. Ahead of him, he could see a camera crew filming youthful presenters who were over-acting embarrassingly. But his thoughts were not on derision. Instead he marvelled at just how much went on here on an average Monday morning. A striding, vest clad, expat mum power-walked past him, clutching the pushchair ahead of her. On a bench, a few of the truly old were resting, hairless and liver-spotted, peacefully gazing at nothing, but perhaps looking back through the many moments of their lives. Percy considered that the gardens were always full of so much more than plants and trees.
As he entered a quieter, narrower section, Percy observed the slim green coils of a snake unfurling slowly as it wandered high in the leafy branches of a bush. He paused to watch, grateful for the sighting, certain that at that precise moment both he and the snake shared the same level of contentment: temporary. Calm was only ever a moment.
He reached up and touched it, for it seemed the natural thing to do. The snake moved away, sliding from sight, and Percy stood for a while marvelling. Here he was, in a tropical foreign country, touching wild snakes. Art would have a heart attack if he knew.
Percy’s phone pinged. Joyann was on her way, saying she would meet him outside the National Orchid Garden, located in the centre of the park.
This was the one section he hadn’t yet visited, partly because there was an entrance fee and it seemed odd to him that the whole of the Botanic Gardens in its splendour was free of charge, but not a few flowers in the middle, and partly because orchids didn’t interest him. He agreed, and ambled off.
*
‘Percy!’
Looking up, Percy saw the sunny face of Joyann Tan smiling down at him. He’d been sitting on a bench under a tree, using his phone to confirm the identity of the snake. It was an oriental whip snake, a shy and mildly venomous animal living amongst branches. Percy felt privileged to have touched it.
‘Hi Joyann.’
‘You looked busy, Percy. Checking your emails?’
‘No. Just looking up a snake.’
Joyann made a shuddering sound. ‘A snake? Have you seen one?’ she looked about.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘An oriental whip snake.’
‘No no. I do not do snakes. Sorry.’
‘It was back there, in a bush. Harmless.’
‘I do not care. Snakes, I have never liked,’ she said, shivering her shoulders. ‘So sorry I am late. It is my day off, but my brother had something he needed to do. I hope you don’t feel you have waited too long?’
‘Of course not. Shall we go in?’ Percy stood up.
Joyann looked past him and waved.
Percy turned. In the distance was a man standing next to a dog defecating, its back curved, tail straight, eyes seeming locked on Percy’s, as a length of brown curled to the ground. It was the same man and dog he had seen earlier. ‘You know him?’
‘One of my customers.’
‘He doesn’t look like the DIY type.’
‘As far as I know he isn’t. But we sell some pet supplies too. Including poo bags. Okay. You ready?’
‘Sure.’
As they passed through the narrow building surrounding the Orchid Garden, Joyann began talking about the flowers with passion, seeming excited to be sharing it all with Percy. ‘There is even an area where orchids named after heads of state can be enjoyed. There is a Margaret Thatcher there, I will show you.’
Inwardly Percy sighed. Outwardly he smiled, ‘So Joyann. What shall we discuss.’
Momentarily she looked blank. ‘Oh yes, I had forgotten about that, I was so excited for the orchids. Perhaps today we can discuss the topic of our next meeting, and how we might gather more members?’
*
The third member of the Discussion Group took the form of the man Percy had first spotted dragging behind what he later discovered to be a Labradoodle, the animal then observed unashamedly relieving itself. It was not an especially large dog, or visually one to fill a man with bum
ptious pride, a curly extension of a gentleman’s fingernails rather than his manhood, but nevertheless the hypoallergenic canine seemed a happy one.
With the Orchid Garden explored to the last sepal, Percy and Joyann bought an ice cream and began walking those parts of the main gardens he had not yet looked at that day. With relatively low humidity, it was possible to walk more briskly and find pleasure in exercise, instead of knowing it would soon become a sweaty mistake. With no sun beating down and the vague hint of a breeze, the day was perfect for marching. But with Joyann taking the more common local pace, better suited to the climate, Percy was forced to stroll.
After sometime, and after finally beginning to talk about the Discussion Group, they headed into some dense woodland and onto the Rainforest Boardwalk. They hadn’t been there long when, after rounding a corner, what looked like a faded brown carpet raced across in front of Percy. The dog’s lead acted as a tripwire, almost causing him to fall. In his effort to stay upright, Percy did not notice the dog-owner’s smooth golden-brown face light up at the sight of him.
‘I am so sorry,’ the owner said, reaching out to help.
Percy waved him away, ‘It’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘Hello Norman,’ said Joyann. ‘I see Cocoa is keeping you busy. You’ve had a long walk today?’
‘Sit, Cocoa, sit.’ Ignoring her owner, Cocoa sniffed here and there, pulling to be on her way once more. Then she flopped onto her belly, panting hard, before jumping up again. Norm smiled at Percy, ‘So we finally meet after seeing each other so many times,’ he reached out a hand. ‘Norman. Norman Sullivan. Call me Norm.’ Only then did he say hello to Joyann.
Feeling slightly puzzled, Percy took his hand, ‘Percy Field. Pleased to meet you, Norm.’
Norm adjusted his neatly pressed lemon linen shirt with a little tug at the hem. ‘You two seemed very caught up…’
Norm and Joyann clearly spoke often, Percy decided. His manner with her was very familiar.
‘Yes. We were just planning something, Norman.’
‘Do tell!’
Don’t tell, thought Percy.
‘We’ve started a Discussion Group,’ said Joyann.
The Cult of Following, Book One Page 5
