The Cult of Following, Book Two

by Barbara Jaques

  *

  Hester, Phrike and Meera found themselves seated together, with three women who clearly knew one another better than they knew them. After initial introductions, the table naturally divided, the night’s topic seldom bringing the two halves together.

  Proof of Existence, Schrödinger’s Cat

  All had known the topic ahead of the evening, since it was written on the invitation, but as Hester read it aloud, Meera sighed despondently.

  ‘I know, Meera. Too heavy for a dinner topic,’ Hester agreed.

  ‘Too heavy anytime,’ Meera said. Her eyes met the old woman’s. ‘We could talk about something else?’

  Phrike remained silent, bound up in a tuxedo that was too small, but that clearly had been striking before his muscular frame had thickened with age.

  ‘You do understand the meaning?’ asked Hester.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Meera replied, a little sharply. ‘It’s that cat in a box thing. Is the cat there when you cannot see it? Can it be dead and alive at the same time? This makes for a short discussion, as far as I am concerned, because the answer is yes; it is there because it was put there. And if it went in alive, then so long as a month has not passed, it remains alive. That is the answer: still there and still alive. So silly, lah.’

  Hester grinned, ‘Careful, Meera, you have started talking about it…’

  ‘And finished talking about it,’ Meera said, smiling. ‘Your dress suits you,’ she added.

  ‘Oh, this old thing. I have had it many years.’ Hester smoothed the lacy grey silk sleeve covering her arm. It was a nice dress. Though she did not normally concern herself with such things, she had felt that her own friends had seen it too many times and so stopped wearing it. It was nice to give it an airing. She sniffed the arm, lightly, ‘Smells of mothballs.’

  ‘Meera?’

  ‘Yes Phrike?’ Meera’s black eyes seemed glassy as she looked at him.

  ‘How can you be so sure about the cat?’

  ‘Because you would hear it moving and breathing. Besides, if you opened the box you would find it there. It would probably scratch your eyes out.’

  ‘But what if it wasn’t there when you weren’t looking at it?’

  ‘Hmm, you sound like my little brother when he is doing his homework, lah.’

  Hester took a sip of wine, ‘But how do you answer Phrike’s question, Meera?’

  ‘Uh, hello? I have no intention of talking about this.’

  ‘So you agree the cat might not be there?’ Phrike smiled.

  Meera tutted, and refused to reply, choosing instead to straighten the straps of her dress.

  Phrike watched.

  Hester watched Phrike watching. ‘You look lovely,’ she said. ‘The dress was expensive?’

  Meera nodded.

  ‘Beautician’s clearly make a good living, Meera.’

  ‘It was bought for me.’

  ‘I say this,’ Hester said, ‘that Meera is right and the cat is still there. To suggest something might not exist when human eyes are not upon it is an outmoded view, though possibly that was not the reasoning behind the original statement. I think it was more to do with mathematics. Or was it physics? Anyway, satellites and other sorts of cameras prove that the only thing that happens when we are not present, is that the natural world gets along far more easily and safely.’

  ‘People use it to justify the existence of God,’ Phrike said. ‘You can’t see it but you know that it’s there.’

  ‘Are you a believer?’ Hester enquired.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Meera?’

  ‘My family is Hindu, as you know, but I am not. I am not sure what I believe, except the cat is alive in the box.’

  ‘But do you think there could be a God? Or Gods?’ Noticing Meera’s hesitation, Hester added, ‘If you had to say, either way.’

  ‘Then no. I do not believe in either God or Gods.’

  Hester looked at the pair, and understood that in her earlier assessment she had read them correctly. These were two people who would never believe in a leader just because someone else did. They would never accept the Prophet of God was walking amongst them, because the Prophet of Nothing was nothing.

  ‘Do you believe in God?’ Phrike asked Hester.

  She smiled, ‘I certainly do believe that our first course is here. I am absolutely ravenous. Now, about Schrödinger’s Cat. Why do you think Schrödinger felt this question needed asking?’ Hester looked at the queen scallops that had been placed before her, thinking that if these really were queen scallops then they had travelled a long way, all the way from England. She had eaten queenies before, on the Isle of Man, where the scallop was harvested. She couldn’t remember if this was exactly as the scallop looked then. It must be surely, to be called queen? She wondered if maybe there were other places queenies could be found? She thought hard and recalled it was specifically Manx queenies that she had eaten then. Wherever the precise location, they’d have come from Europe surely, she decided, as she placed one in her mouth. What a long way, she thought again, but then she had seen Devon crab for sale in Thailand. She smiled. Coincidentally, that sighting was shortly after eating Devon crab on the Jurassic Coast in England; Dorset rather than Devon, but very nearby. She enjoyed England, though had never lived there. Would she like to live there?

  ‘Hester. Do you agree with Meera?’

  ‘Say it again, dear. Sorry.’

  Meera began to re-explain what she’d said, but again Hester’s attention was drawn elsewhere. This time, not distant European shores, but much closer to home; to another table.

  Trudy saw her looking and came over, large glass of red wine in hand, long blue dress tight, strapless bodice causing her firm bosom to push up towards her shoulders. ‘How’s it going?’ she asked, dark purple line staining her lips.

  ‘Fine. You?’

  Trudy glanced back to her table, at Norm gazing at Percy, who was talking, frowning and eating all at the same time. ‘Absolutely marvellous,’ she gasped. ‘Percy seems to have an answer for everything. Guess what he thinks about the cat?’

  Meera fell silent, making way for Trudy.

  ‘What?’ Hester hoped it was good.

  ‘He said the question would have more relevance if Schrödinger had asked whether or not the box still existed, if it was inside the cat. Brilliant, don’t you think?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Hester agreed, though in her mind her reply was a question: brilliant or total nonsense? But this was the thing with philosophy.

  As an excited child, Trudy hurried back to her table.

  Hester apologised to Meera for the interruption.

  ‘Hey, not problem, lah. That was exactly what I was saying.’

  ‘It was not!’ said Phrike, cheerfully,

  Meera grinned and took a long slug of wine.

  ‘Delicious,’ said Phrike, eating a scallop.

  All those sat around the table agreed with a short hum of delight.

  Someone walked by the table that Hester knew, though not well enough to know her name. With a disparaging tone, the woman whispered to Hester, ‘What do you think of the topic?’

  Hester wrinkled her nose and shook her head a little. When the woman had gone, she smiled. The topic was splendid, and the reaction to it everything she had hoped for, when she had suggested it to the woman she knew Percy had labelled, Vlad the Impala.

  7. HAW PAR VILLA, AGAIN

  ‘I am telling you that this is the spitting image of Ken Dodd,’ Trudy insisted, as Hester and Norm surveyed one of the giant faces lining a wall of the park. Straggly black hair trailed down some four metres, twisted from storms and fiddling fingers.

  ‘And I am telling you that I have never heard of Ken Dodd!’ Hester replied.

  ‘Well, if it is Ken Dodd, I hope never to meet him, whoever he is,’ said Norm, wiping the sweat from his brow. ‘He looks dreadful.’

  The three were with The Discussion Group at Haw Par Villa. This venue had been chosen before. Then
, as now, it was not the idea of Vlad the Impala. Rather, both times it was Joyann’s idea, a suggestion made for those not working and so able to make a daytime meeting. The plan was to take a leisurely walk amongst the giant statues of gorillas, crabs and Gods, and depictions of religious scenes, soaking up the peculiarly silent atmosphere of the historic theme park. There would be no formal discussion, just whatever was prompted by what they saw, and shared with whomever they happened to be standing next to. Essentially, it was an excuse for a nice day out and a chat.

  In the park somewhere, Percy and Joyann were walking together, but it had been sometime since they had been spotted.

  ‘I wonder what Percy thought of Ken?’ Trudy said. ‘Assuming he’s seen him.’

  ‘Ken who?’ Norm was feeling hot, and now thinking only of buying a bottle of water from the cafe, a short walk back through the displays.

  ‘Dodd!’ Trudy exclaimed, seeming exasperated.

  ‘Would he recognise this face as Ken Dodd’s?’ Hester questioned. ‘Neither Norm or myself have any idea who he is.’

  ‘Of course, he’s a well-known English comedian. For our generation, anyway.’

  Hester smiled, ‘Perhaps he would know him, then.’

  ‘Hot isn’t it?’ Trudy said.

  ‘It is. I think there will be a storm later. It’s been quite a few days since we had any rain,’ Hester was fanning herself with a theatre programme she had pulled from her bag.

  Norm noticed it was for The Tempest. ‘Have you seen it recently?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a favourite of mine.’

  ‘Shall we take a break?’ he suggested, thinking nothing more of Hester’s statement, finding no need to enquire as to why her favourite Shakespearean play was one of illusion manipulating reality. His own favourite, selected from the few he knew, was Othello: love, deception and tragedy. By chance, he’d seen it twice, and on both occasions his emotions heaved and pulled sorrowfully at the terrible injustice of it all. Verity still enjoyed his occasional rendition of it, watching with mirth while her husband dragged himself about their apartment uttering my Desdemona, miserably.

  ‘I am desperate for a drink. I’m glad I didn’t bring Cocoa, she would have been far too hot today,’ he said.

  ‘An ice-lolly, perhaps,’ Hester suggested. As they moved away from the giant faces and began wandering towards the inviting cool of the café, she added. ‘I think Percy might be starting to understand he is more than he seems.’ She said it with a thoughtful air, as if no reply were needed.

  Norm was instantly drawn in, ‘How so?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Trudy, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was recalling a conversation he and Joyann had the last time we came here. Do you remember, Trudy, when we saw them after they’d been through the Ten Courts of Hell?’

  ‘I certainly remember the courts, Hester.’ Trudy’s face moved a fraction, despite a recent Botox treatment, ‘Horrific.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Hester continued, ‘I can’t remember her exact words, but Joyann was saying Percy had just said that suffering for our sins is not right. He thinks we should put our past wickedness behind us and move on.’ Norm listened attentively, as Hester continued. ‘It is quite plain that Percy has some very specific beliefs. I have overheard other conversations where it was made apparent that he does not believe in retribution, but instead the achievement of enlightenment.’

  ‘Like a Buddhist?’ Trudy asked.

  Hester didn’t reply, but stopped walking as if the breath had gone from her. ‘He believes in reincarnation.’ She flapped the theatre programme close to her face.

  Trudy and Norm stopped beside her.

  ‘Are you certain of this?’ Norm asked. Through his own Mormon faith, Norm had in a sense also embraced the idea of further lives, the chosen few moving through new planes after death. Norm wanted to discuss it further, but Hester abruptly changed the subject.