*
The four enjoyed further meetings, growing ever more certain of the commonality that by an apparent coincidence had pulled them together, a strange, idealistic, notion striking at the edges of revelation.
Whether over coffee or juice, wine or a cocktail, whether enjoying hainanese chicken rice at a hawker centre or eating oysters in a fine restaurant, they filled the air with a mutual admiration Percy would have found suffocating, even in his direst moments of need.
The group talked openly and, to an extent, honestly. It was not hard to agree that for each and every person, Percy filled a space. Even Hester herself was able to see the benefit. He was unlike any man they could remember meeting. To Norm and Trudy, his off-the-cuff remarks and generally quiet, dismissive, nature were the foundation of what appeared to be a calm authority. It was as if Percy understood things on a level that others could not. This, coupled with the gift of an unassuming guiding hand made him a compelling and natural leader.
For all, whether vulnerable or predatory, little had seemed quite so attractive in a long time.
12. NORM
Although it had developed very naturally within him and moved easily into fact, the idea of Percy being something more than he first seemed was particularly emotive for Norm. Raised within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Norm had been a Mormon all his life, attending church on Sunday, observing Monday evenings as family time, learning the scriptures, aspiring to visit the Temple in Salt Lake City. He had accepted God’s word as delivered by Joseph Smith, with it all its prejudices. Life had been level, difficult at times in terms of controlling his sinful imagination, but always with desire for anything other than the Lord neatly boxed. He’d married, even though his brain did not admire the female form, and he’d gone ahead to perform the necessary ritual to seal the bond, by consummating the marriage. The act had not been repeated many times since, though had not been ignored entirely. His wife, it seemed to Norm, had stopped worrying about it; mostly finding her pleasures elsewhere, whenever it suited her.
Norm was sitting with Trudy enjoying an impromptu smoothie. Both were shopping for gifts, Trudy for her husband’s birthday and Norm for Verity. Their fifteenth anniversary would soon be upon them, and as always Norm intended to celebrate it properly by demonstrating his feelings with expressions of love, for he loved his wife very much. The gift seeking pair had spotted one another between malls, walking along in the cool underground corridors running a good length of Orchard Road. Here, the hustle and bustle of life dodged and darted, concealed from the overheating shoppers strolling the famous street above; the underground train station and acres of shops and cafes always teeming with activity.
Trudy had been gazing through the window of a low-end jewellery store when he’d spotted her.
‘I can’t imagine you finding anything in there.’
‘Hello Norm,’ she’d said, happily. ‘I was just thinking about what I might send to my niece. She and my husband share a birthday, and she’ll be eighteen.’ She looked at Norm and sighed, ‘Can you imagine? Eighteen? How wonderful to be so young.’
‘Maybe.’ Norm did not wish to dampen her moment of nostalgia by saying he would rather be any other age than battling with being eighteen again. This was when he’d invited her to join him for a drink. The juice and smoothie bar was next door, and new.
‘So what will you get your husband?’ Norm asked, before sipping his drink through an extra long straw.
‘Well, if I can’t think of anything else, then some new shirts. But I was thinking of giving him a bag.’
‘What sort of bag? Briefcase?’
‘He has one. I thought perhaps a man-bag.’
‘Would he use it?’ Norm was a very thoughtful giver of gifts, and rarely strayed from that which he knew another person would like. The exception had been the skinny pig, bought for Percy. It was an exception that very definitely proved the rule.
‘I have no idea, Norm. Men are so hard to buy for, aren’t they?’
Norm said nothing. He was wondering why she had spoken as if he were something different.
‘The only problem with buying him shirts is that I gave him some last year. Perhaps an expensive tie would do it? Cufflinks maybe? A watch?’
‘Does he read?’
‘Only the iPad.’
‘A new iPad?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with the old one.’
Norm sucked his straw again, which delivered a welcome hit of ice-cold mango and mint. ‘Does he cook?’
‘He’s a great cook. But he rarely does it anymore.’
‘Book him on a course. There are lots. I did a Thai cookery course once, in Thailand. Amazing. Though he could go anywhere. There are lots of good ones here in Singapore, apparently.’
‘Good idea.’
These two words were at odds with Trudy’s unenthusiastic tone, Norm noted. ‘Okay,’ he went on, ‘how about a weekend away, at a spa. An island retreat? Then you could both go.’ This time he spotted a glimmer of interest rising in her eyes.
‘That would be lovely. But it’s not a special birthday.’
‘Does it have to be?’
‘I guess not.’ She smiled brightly, before sucking up some smoothie, straw held demurely between pouting lips. It was the same flavour as Norm’s, since she couldn’t decide what to have. ‘That’s what I’ll do. I’ll find out some dates and surprise him. Thank you.’ The smile widened, and she wriggled her shoulders. ‘A spa weekend. How lovely!’
Norm said he was pleased to have helped. ‘I wonder if that might make a good present for Verity?’
‘We could go together. A foursome.’
Briefly, Norm pictured his straightforward straight-talking hardworking wife, lying on a massage bed next to Trudy. Verity would eat her alive, and not because Trudy would be basted in cocoa butter. ‘I think your husband might not view a break like that as a treat. He doesn’t know us.’
‘Oh Norm, he’d love you! But you are right. It wouldn’t work. Do you like your smoothie?’
‘Yes, it’s nice. You?’
‘Yes. Very refreshing. So what will you get her?’
‘Something from Tiffany, I expect. That woman loves Tiffany. I’ll go there next. I’ve had enough of browsing for ideas. I knew I would end up there; I always do. I should have gone there first.’
‘She has a very beautiful face, your wife,’ Trudy remarked.
Norm smiled. Often Verity’s beauty was admired in this way; her face singled out. It seemed few people would simply say that she was beautiful, without the unspoken caveat. ‘She is beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘Naked, she looks like a subject from an old master; you know the paintings I mean. Is it renaissance?’
Trudy made a noise as if impressed. ‘Fat women have often been portrayed in art.’
Norm stopped himself from reacting. Though true enough, to him it seemed Trudy’s ignorance had swung from one extreme to the other.
‘Hester’s putting on weight,’ Trudy said, placing her empty glass on the table. ‘Too many sweet treats.’
‘She’s a very fit lady, though. Like a steam train when she walks. You keep very trim, Trudy,’ he added, suspecting this might be the required reaction.
‘Thanks. I like to look after myself. One body, one life, you know. Might as well look after it.’ Trudy ran a finger the length of her nose as she said it. ‘I’d like to get rid of this lump next.’
‘Lump?’
‘Yes. Do you see?’ she turned her head so Norm had a side view of her nose. ‘I’d like it to be straight. It’s like a humpback bridge.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ Norm said, in all seriousness. ‘What lump?’
‘There,’ she rubbed the bone.
‘You have a beautiful nose.’
‘And it will be even more beautiful without the lump.’ She sighed. ‘Do you suppose I should have my chin done? Just a little? For balance.’
‘I’m not really the person to ask.
What does your husband say about it all?’
‘Not much. Well, apart from these of course,’ she touched her breasts, lightly.
Norm decided it was time to change the subject. ‘Will you be going to the next Discussion Group meeting? I hear the idea is a trip to the theatre and then a meal. Someone is suggesting that new bed restaurant afterwards.’
‘Bed restaurant?’
‘Yeah. Bed. I think we’re all meant to sit about on mattresses, crossed legged, casually eating and talking about what we’ve seen. If Hester decides to go along she’ll look as if she’s stepped straight from the desert.’
‘Norman Sullivan!’
‘What? She’s quite ethnic.’
‘She won’t eat sitting on a bed, I can tell you that now.’
‘And I wouldn’t blame her, Trudy.’
‘Goodness. I can’t decide if it sounds like fun or torture.’
Neither could Norm, but he hazarded a guess. ‘Dreadful torture, I expect. I think anything like that very much depends on who you are with.’
‘I wonder if Percy might go?’
Norm shook his head. ‘I doubt Percy will be interested in that sort of thing. And he doesn’t like the new group. He says it’s too prescriptive and I am sure he is right. It’s all very well being given a topic, but that woman has started giving out study notes.’
‘I hope he does go. Not to that particular meeting, necessarily, but another. I miss him.’
‘We all miss him. Maybe we could ask Joyann to arrange something again? He still seems to enjoy those old style sessions, so you never know.’ Norm paused. He’d been about to add that for Percy to attend any of the new meetings would be a miracle, when he was reminded of a theory he’d been pondering the evening before. The concept had formed simply enough, but its effect had been profound.
While showering after a late swim, he’d been reflecting upon a short conversation he and Verity had just shared. As he’d passed her, curled on a sofa watching a magic show on television, he’d stopped and watched it for a moment, pool-water dripping onto the marble floor. He’d commented that the illusion was very convincing; he preferred it when he couldn’t work out how a trick was done. Verity replied by saying she’d never been able to understand how any of it was done, and Norm admitted that he could only guess at it. The conversation was brief and the conclusion easy; they both enjoyed not knowing.
Once in the shower, Norm had begun wondering why not knowing was preferable to knowing. Surely, purely biological beings should feel no affiliation to the mysterious and unexplained, yet faith of any sort was based upon exactly this. In fact, Norm thought, the phenomenal was a foundation for all human culture; the religious and secular alike advocated fascination for existence beyond understanding. His idea gained pace. People looked for miracles because of way they were made, because of the ancestor all had evolved from, that fortuitous being who witnessed wonder and knew its truth.
The sense of relief was so great that Norm was sure he could feel his own blood surging through his veins, as suddenly he realised it was not his faith in God that had been shaken. What had been challenged was his faith in one man’s interpretation of what it meant to believe, and whether Joseph Smith’s interpretation was right or wrong, was no longer relevant. Percy was all that mattered.
‘It would be wonderful to see one of Percy’s miracles,’ Norm said to Trudy. There was no point exploring the idea of a common ancestor with her, of asking what she thought of the notion that miraculous spectacle was once upon a time an everyday occurrence.
‘You’ve felt one of his miracles,’ she reminded him.
‘I know. And the more I think about it the less messy everything else seems. It’s almost as if that day was the first day I’d been able to think clearly in a long time.’
‘So the Messiah has come,’ Trudy said. ‘It makes me feel strange. How can I be part of something like this? It doesn’t feel real sometimes.’
‘Prophet.’ Norm corrected. ‘Messiah is something different. And yes, it is strange.’
‘I meant Prophet.’ Trudy’s gaze drifted, and Norm could see she was thinking. ‘You know what? A weekend away is exactly what we need,’ she said, eventually. ‘I wonder if we might all go somewhere another time? As a group. You, me, Hester, Joyann, Percy… you know… the old group; the original group… Meera, Phrike… it could be fun.’
‘Maybe.’
‘We needn’t go somewhere really posh.’
‘I wouldn’t want to rough it. And nor would Verity.’
‘You wouldn’t have to. We could go to Rawa. It’s tidy enough, for a fun weekend. We could take the whole island.’
‘Verity was there with some girlfriends a while ago. It’s grown; there’s been a lot of building work. There would be other people.’
‘Just an idea.’
Norm said it was very likely to stay an idea. ‘Look. I have to head off in a moment. Would you like to join me? You could browse for cufflinks to go with the spa weekend?’
Trudy clapped her hands enthusiastically. ‘Or some earrings for me,’ she laughed.
‘That’s a point. Maybe I’ll get her some earrings.’ He quickly changed his mind. ‘No. A necklace would be better. You coming?’
Trudy gathered her bags of shopping, ‘I can help you choose,’ she said.
‘Maybe. She is particular, my Verity.’
‘In all things, or just jewellery?’
‘All things, really.’
‘And what does she think of Percy?’
‘I’d say she thinks a great deal of him.’
13. CREATIVITY
Percy felt decidedly uneasy. He thought Norm’s message had an edge to it, if an edgy text were possible: WE need to talk, meet me at Bread Chat on 6th Avenue, 10am.
The message arrived just as Percy, half dressed, had slumped down onto the edge of his bed. Sal had again managed to disturb his comfortably settled mind by calling to inform him that her mother had died. Not so good for June herself, of course, who was a nice enough woman, but why had Sal bothered him with it?
‘Why are you telling me this?’ he’d asked.
She’d hung up. Percy thought that before they were cut off he’d heard a sniffle. Was she still upset? Was this why she had called? But if it was comfort she wanted why not go to Ethan? Ethan.
He lay back to think, soft bed comfortable in the tiring heat. Was the capitalised WE a mistake, or did Norm intend such emphasis? From a different friend, such as Phrike, it would not need to be dissected for meaning, but with Norm it was always possible the words had other connotations. Percy could not deny that Norm was basically a very nice man, even though he was needy to a degree never before encountered, and needy people rarely liked Percy any better than Percy liked them. And he always seemed on the verge of saying or doing something, yet never actually saying or doing a thing. It was, however, an easy friendship in some ways, and an odd one because of it.
Percy thought about Phrike. Phrike had noticed Norm’s attentive behaviour and begun commenting, in that passing-the-time-of-day manner he had about him, breaking his personal code regarding the creation and sharing of gossip. In some respects, he and Percy were very similar indeed, for it was grouchiness and cynicism that cemented their friendship. But then at Sungei Buloh, Phrike had come right out and said it: he fancies you.
Bread Chat was the café Phrike patronised, before he and Percy had come together in The Discussion Group. Located at the bottom of Sixth Avenue it was directly next door to The Bean. Percy was so wary of Norm’s motives that even this choice of venue aroused suspicion, although he could not work out why. Before she had run off with Ethan, Sal had warned Percy that he was becoming paranoid, saying he spent far too much time brooding over how much Norm had invaded his life. This obsession, Sal pointed out, was simply further invasion and something within Percy’s control. But Percy knew what she really meant to say: shut up and stop whinging. Or had she? Had she in fact used Norm’s behaviour? By playi
ng it down, was she deliberately prolonging it, preserving for herself some cruel form of entertainment? Did she enjoy Percy’s discomfort so much? He shook himself. Now he was being silly.
Forcing himself up off the bed, Percy straightened his tee shirt, gleaming white and freshly pressed thanks to The Kraken. He pulled on some navy shorts. There was nothing for it but to find out what it was Norman Sullivan wanted.
The Cult of Following, Book Two Page 9
