*
Percy awoke with a start. An enormous clap of thunder had shaken the house giving him such a fright that his mouth seemed to have developed a frantically beating heart all of its own.
He threw off the thin sheet covering one leg and went to the open window, drawing back the curtains. As he stood there, naked, another crash roared overhead, lightning flashing simultaneously. Percy enjoyed the storms though not as much as Sal. With something this big, she would have been at the window with a video camera, or maybe her phone, waiting for the next explosion. Percy thought about some footage she’d taken, where her old camera had shaken with the force of the thunder. She’d been so pleased with it she’d excitedly shown anyone who would look. At last, she had captured that elusive power, the awe-inspiring intensity that ordinarily was not clear on playback. And, Percy recalled, the recording had picked up the depth of the almighty bang.
Unlike Sal, Percy was inclined to live for the moment and had no intention of trying to record a single second, though he thought his friend, Art, would probably enjoy the images. He’d certainly appreciated Sal’s. This was a measure of how proud she was of her film, because she was the one person who had never warmed to Percy’s closest friend, yet she had emailed him regardless.
Percy peered into the darkness. Another flash came, but still no rain. Then he heard a voice, and made out the shadowy shape of someone standing on the path below his window. It was the Indian-Singaporean guard he always seemed to be at odds with. What was he doing up at this time of night? Why wasn’t he lounging in the security box? In fact, he never worked nights anyway. The guard yelled something, but the few words were drowned out by thunder. Then Percy realised he was pointing at a particular part of Percy’s anatomy. It seemed he had accidentally exposed himself again.
‘Cover up!’
Percy took a length of curtain and did as he was told. He did not need reminding that it was an offence to be naked where people might see, since the guard took great pleasure in telling him every time there was a digression. At least it wasn’t his annoying Chinese neighbour complaining again, Percy thought. She had moved away and not a moment too soon.
‘What are you doing?’ Percy called back. ‘Is there a problem?’
The guard gestured for Percy to be quiet, and waved his hands as if to confirm there was nothing wrong. Then the first heavy drops started to fall, and the guard hurried away.
Percy waited for a few moments and watched as the rain quickly turned into a downpour, which soon became so torrential that the few dim streetlights were entirely obscured. He slid the window shut; when the rain was this heavy, it needed closing. Besides, Percy had not forgotten how destructive the wind could be when it gusted through the house. He thought there would probably be no wind tonight, though; it would have come by now. He had followed Sal’s night-time routine of open window, ceiling fan on and curtains pulled shut, ever since she had left. He’d tried only once to use the air-conditioning – that longed-for luxury denied him from the moment they’d arrived in Singapore – but it was too late; despite resistance, he had acclimatised.
With the rain falling hard upon the flat roof of the house, Percy climbed back into bed wondering how he was ever going to sleep. Feet pleasantly cooled by the splashes that had been bouncing in from the narrow balcony, he closed his eyes. There was something reassuring about the sound of heavy rain. Suddenly, another clap of thunder cracked overhead, by far the loudest. Percy again threw the sheet to one side, before stomping downstairs to make himself a drink. He planned to come back up and sit on the edge of the bed with it and watch the storm. He might as well do something, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep.
The air downstairs felt clammy, as it always did once the doors and windows were shut for the night. The price of not using air-conditioning was constant humidity, which meant mouldy furniture and wood if it wasn’t cleaned often enough. Tonight, it felt particularly sticky, and so while he waited for the kettle to boil, Percy opened a door and allowed the cooler air to rush in, along with the sound of the rain and the constant spray. He waited by the open door, anticipating the next flash or bang. Magnificent storms really were one of the bonuses of living somewhere tropical, he felt, and what was the loss of one night’s sleep to a man without a job? As he watched, the rain began to ease marginally, and he noticed someone rushing by on the other side of the slatted wooden gate, along the communal path. It was the guard again, with a sheet of something protecting his head against the deluge. Immediately, Percy cupped a hand over his penis. Once more, he had forgotten to cover up.
The kettle whistled and Percy returned to the kitchen, wondering what it was his sometime-nemesis was up to. He was probably one of the most annoyingly smug men Percy had ever met, he concluded, as he searched for teabags. With his polite smile and irritatingly professional manner, his matter-of-fact tone of voice nagging the average person about everything from draped towels to bare bottoms, the guard was the bane of Percy’s life; Percy, a man simply trying to scrape by whilst suffocating beneath the unwelcome presence of neighbours.
Unable to find any teabags, he began rummaging about to see if The Kraken had hidden any, because monstrous beasts were prone to peculiar behaviour. Then he saw it. A Christmas card, pushed to the back of a drawer filled with odds and ends, left where it had been stuffed in a moment of frustration to stop The Kraken putting it up every five minutes; left there by Percy himself because he hadn’t the balls to throw it away. It was from Sal, the Japanese mountain scene that had so irritated him.
3. THE DISCUSSION GROUP
‘Morning, Percy.’
‘Morning, Joyann.’
‘Beautiful day today, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed it is. Big storm last night.’
‘It was. And so, no better place to meet than here, in the Botanic Gardens, when it feels this pleasant. As you can see, I have laid out some blankets already; if anyone wants a chair then hopefully they will bring one.’
Stopping beside Joyann, Percy smiled. ‘Won’t the blankets get wet? The ground is soaked.’
‘No. They are all plastic-backed. Proper picnic blankets. I had quite a lot left in the shop taking up space. I cannot send them back so we may as well use them.’
‘Are we expecting a big turn out today?’
‘I am not sure, but no, I would not expect very many. The woman who now runs the group…’ Joyann’s voice faded.
‘Ah yes, Vlad the Impala,’ Percy said, thinking himself very clever to have labelled the group’s South African self-appointed leader as such.
Joyann’s brow furrowed. ‘She wasn’t keen on the idea of meeting here so I suspect that she and her friends will not come. They seemed rather cross that I expressed an opinion and organised this without their official approval. You know how huffy some types of women get. These ladies prefer an evening meeting after work. They rarely arrange a daytime meet, I have noticed. They all have jobs, but so do I. Maybe they are trying to push us out, Percy. They will not have to push me very hard because I have almost had enough.’
‘I hope you reminded them who started this group? I hope they weren’t sassing our founding member, Joyann.’
‘Sassing? What is this American word that has found its way into your very English vocabulary, Percy? Sassing.’
‘Sassing,’ Percy repeated, feeling the word in his mouth. He’d heard it while watching a film he was streaming, and for once decided he might help expand British English.
‘No, Percy, they were not rude to me, but it did remind me of why I stopped running the group. It was only how I wanted it to be for a very short time. At first, it was exactly as my grandmother would have wanted, just as hers had been all those years ago. But now… ah… it is not the same. I rarely find the same pleasure in it anymore.’
‘You’re not saying you’re leaving, are you?’
‘No, Percy. Only that…’ for a few moments Joyann appeared not to know what she wanted to say next.
‘Yes?’ Prompted Percy. ‘Only that what?’
Joyann shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I will carry on coming for now, but some of the people here I find a little odd. I suppose this is what I am trying to say.’
As they talked, the first members arrived, settling themselves on a blanket with a small wave and nod to Joyann.
‘Them?’ asked Percy. ‘Are they the odd ones?’
‘No. Not at all. They are very nice people.’
Percy noticed Joyann’s focus shift, and he followed her gaze.
‘Them?’ he asked.
Joyann did not reply.
‘You reckon they’re a bit odd?’
Still she wouldn’t speak.
‘You know that’s just Trudy and Hester, don’t you? You haven’t got your specs on.’
‘I do not wear glasses, Percy! And yes, I can see very well who it is.’
‘You were happy enough to play cards with them, at Norm’s.’
‘I was happy enough to play cards with you, too, yet you are very definitely odd!’ She laughed, and moved towards Hester who was reaching out to greet her.
Swathes of fabric enveloped petit Joyann, as the elderly Hester planted kisses in the air either side of her face. Hester was a different sort of expat than many, an era gone by, bearing the uniform of a white woman living in Asia, rather than a wealthy woman living as a modern expat. Over cards, Percy learned that Hester had been in Singapore for decades. That night, he had marvelled at the number of scarves she had managed to tie about herself, and the great beads and chains hanging there. Today was no different.
Suddenly he realised she and Trudy were heading for him. He turned away but felt a tight grip upon his arm.
‘Percy,’ Hester said, offering each cheek in turn, giving but not receiving an air kiss.
Percy said hello, and nodded the same to Trudy, who seemed to blush a little, before taking her friend and finding a place to sit. Percy noticed that each carried a small foldout chair and umbrella.
As more members arrived, Percy found himself feeling increasingly reluctant to stay. If Joyann hadn’t confessed to her own disillusionment he might have felt better about things. Normally optimistic, her unusually negative view had validated his own. Suddenly, the prospect of a morning filled with discussion with anyone, even Joyann, was far from appealing.
Before he could act upon his instincts, Joyann looped her arm through his and walked him towards a blanket. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Here, sit with me. We can do this.’ She grinned.
The ground was hard beneath his feet, only the stiffness of the coarse-bladed grass, manicured into a huge lawn, making it feel different to the metalled paths. So much rain, yet it was not soft. The meeting was near the centre of the gardens, with a view down to the empty performance stage and lake. Today, as most days, a variety of people were visiting, from elderly Chinese to power walking expats. Although he no longer wished to join in with the group, Percy had been to the Botanic Gardens so many times it could not have felt more like home. All around, umbrellas popped up to shade against the powerful rays penetrating thin grey skies. Joyann was using a huge silver golfing brolly, and shared it with Percy.
After a few moments of settling chatter, it was decided the session should begin and Joyann issued the topic, even though many in the group had, for reasons unknown to him, looked to Percy to do so.
‘Is that it?’ Percy questioned, pleased to have escaped the attention but puzzled by Joyann’s dumbing down. ‘That’s not like you.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘The topic, it’s not very Joyann. Very far from the first one you chose, at our first meeting. Do you remember?’
Joyann pondered for a moment and then said, ‘Ah yes, how can I forget: The Wonders of Biochar.’
‘Correct. Now that is a boring topic, and very you,’ he smiled, impishly.
‘Charming. Well if you do not like my ideas then think of your own.’
‘Oh no, you don’t get me that easily.’
‘Okay then’ she replied, ‘then start talking about The Best Holiday You Ever Had.’
Percy winced, ‘I can’t. Sorry Joyann, but it’s a bloody awful topic. It’s the worst of those sorts of conversations people have at parties, or wherever, that make any sane person want to staple their ears shut. Ooo Bali was soooo relaxing, even the rabid dogs were chilled; ahhhh but Lombok is far nicer, you should go there sometime, if you can afford the extra; have you ever been to that darling little island… what’s it called… no children allowed…. It’s uber expensive, but you know, there’s no harm in a little treat every now and then, and Tarquin loves our new maid, so he was happy to see us go…. Yawn fucking yawn.’
Joyann stared. ‘My greatest holiday was visiting Petra; the cave buildings there are incredible.’
‘Don’t say something like that!’
‘Like what?’
‘That. Petra. That’s already vaguely interesting. Come on, I thought we were going to wing it.’
‘Wing it?’
‘You know. Get by, not actually do the thing. Wing it. You must know wing it?’
‘Do you mean use the time to avoid talking about the topic?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? We may as well just talk about it.’
Percy thought for a moment, and relented with a loud sigh. ‘Jordan, right?’
‘Petra? Yes. It is beautiful; the sandstone is a pinkish colour. Ethan and I went there for our honeymoon.’
Percy suppressed a very large oh my God. Why had he given in? This was the last name he wanted to hear, having spent much of his time actively removing thoughts of his now estranged wife and her lover from his mind. Was this what he had got out of bed for this morning, he wondered, to hear about bloody Ethan’s bloody holiday? Ethan. God, he hated that name almost as much as he hated the man.
‘It dates back thousands of years, and has this incredible atmosphere. I cannot describe it, Percy, not well; it inspires something like awe, but it is greater than that, as if you can feel the soul of every person that ever touched the ground there. We saw the sunset, and the colours were stunning. I mean the colours in the stone were stunning, of course, rather than the sunset, though this was lovely too. It is a huge site, and some people ride camels and donkeys to move around. Ethan did not like the idea of riding a camel, so we walked, which was a great way to see those little details that you miss travelling any other way. Percy? Percy, are you even listening to me?’
Percy’s attention had drifted off around the moment Joyann had chosen to describe Petra as greater than awe-inspiring, and he was looking now at the form of Norm, hurrying along behind his beloved chocolate labradoodle, Cocoa.
‘Percy?’ Joyann repeated, exasperation sounding.
‘Norm’s arrived,’ Percy said.
Seeming to shrug off her frustration, Joyann called out and asked Norm to join them.
The oh my God Percy had suppressed released itself. He hadn’t wanted to stay at all, and now, much as he liked Norm, he would have to suffer this man’s affection as well as every tale of holidays past that he and Joyann could muster.
The Cult of Following, Book Two Page 3
