The Cult of Following, Book Two

  *

  Reluctantly, Percy left the relative comfort of a plastic chair and went back into the blazing heat of the day. ‘How can I help you?’ he said. Trudy had again begged him for a moment alone, this time walking over to him. Percy noticed Hester watching, her expression impassive.

  He hadn’t wanted to talk, but was aware that yet again Joyann was ready to leap to his defence. It wasn’t her defence of him making Percy uncomfortable; to have anyone do that was something of a novelty. It was more that this form of intervention was based on assumption, and he loathed assumption. His first serious girlfriend had assumed he would like to waste a perfectly good afternoon with her family; it felt as if she’d pulled a bag over his head and tried to suffocate him. Joyann was assuming he needed a voice to back up his own, and for him, contained within this assumption, lay a suggestion that perhaps she was the wiser of the two. By cutting her off, allowing Trudy his time and so making himself vulnerable, Percy had, of course, proved this particular assumption correct.

  At first, Trudy was silent, and they walked a short distance from the others without speaking at all. But when they stopped, words seemed to tumble from her mouth, unchecked and unashamed.

  ‘I love you.’ She announced it as simple fact.

  Percy was horrified. He turned to walk away but she grabbed his arm.

  ‘Sorry.’ Her voice quivered, irritating him further. ‘Sorry,’ she said again, loosening her grip, though her hand remained. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m not normally like this.’

  Percy groaned miserably, ‘My God, you just don’t get it do you? I am not who you think I am.’

  ‘But I think I would love you anyway, even if you weren’t,’ Trudy said, softly. She shrugged, ‘I’ve said it now, so I may as well say it again. I love you.’ She lifted her chin, as if in defiance.

  Percy shook his head. There were many things he wanted at that moment. Firstly, to turn back the clock and have Joyann tell Trudy to go away, secondly to magically teleport to The Tired Turtle, and thirdly to arrive with a beer instantly in his hand. Fourthly, a second bottle should be lined up ready, because the first wasn’t going to last. What would life be, without The Tired Turtle?

  ‘You don’t love me, Trudy. I don’t know why you say you do, but you don’t.’ He said it kindly, surprising even himself.

  Standing alongside a statue of a large crab sprouting the head of a smiling young man, they were silent for a moment. It was an uneasy atmosphere, and fearing what she might say or do next, Percy suggested they go back to the café.

  ‘It’s too hot,’ he added, implying they needed the shade it would offer.

  ‘Maybe you could cool us down?’ She smiled a little.

  Percy was puzzled. He’d half expected a smutty remark about him being hot. But maybe this was a smutty remark? He couldn’t tell.

  ‘You can do miracles,’ she said. ‘I think today we need a big one. Perhaps a giant ice-cube.’

  Inside Percy’s brain a short battle commenced. One half instructed him to be silent and return to Joyann, while the other half insisted he tell Trudy to piss off and leave him alone. Meanwhile, his mouth took advantage of the dilemma. ‘I can’t do miracles.’

  ‘You’re too modest.’

  ‘No. I really can’t do miracles.’

  ‘You’re a Messiah, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think you mean Prophet.’

  ‘Yes, Prophet, of course. I always get that wrong. Hester told me that Messiah is something to do with Jews, though I looked it up and apparently it can just mean leader, if that person is thought to be a saviour of some sort. No one likes me saying it though. Sorry. I’m waffling.’

  Uncomfortable with her gazing at him, Percy started moving away. Trudy went with him, putting her arm through his. He tried to shake her off, but she held firm. Unwilling to make a scene, he stopped resisting and walked with her.

  ‘You are the one. And I know now why you deny it, why you are making us wait.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ he sighed, eyes rolling.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Again, his brain lost to his mouth. ‘Why?’

  ‘Nothing worth having is easy. My father used to tell me this all the time. Actually, he used to say, “Nothing worth having is easily gained and nothing worth knowing is easily learned”. When I wanted a pony, he said it; if I wanted a new bike, he said it. And when I was doing my O levels, he said it then, too. I used to think it was his way of avoiding helping me, or of not spending money, but he just wanted me to try harder. I was a lazy child. He was right, of course, that nothing worth knowing is easily learned, because that little bit of insight took me years to understand.’

  ‘It’s true, I guess.’

  ‘Not if you’re a kid. He could have easily bought me a pony, we were comfortable enough,’ she looked at Percy, coyly, ‘but of course, in most cases it is true. The thing worth having, whether knowledge or something physical, isn’t easy to get.’

  She was quiet for a moment, and Percy sensed they were on the brink of some terrifying announcement. His heart sank when it came.

  ‘I dream about you, you know? About us. I dream things I can’t bring myself to say out loud. But I wanted you to know.’

  ‘Ah,’ was all he could think to say.

  ‘I know you don’t want me, not like that.’

  He managed silence.

  ‘Or do you? Maybe it’s not appropriate? Is that it?’ She sighed, wistfully. ‘I wish you would tell me what you are… I mean… what you are about.’ She pushed her arm further through his, and locked it there with her other hand, clinging like a monkey might hug a rucksack. ‘Sorry, I’m not making much sense.’

  Percy thought he was going to die from embarrassment if the heat didn’t get him first. She was a human radiator. He tested her grip and again relented.

  ‘You’ve come here,’ she continued, ‘and inspired people. You’ve shown us your gifts, but something about it confuses me,’ her head leaned against his arm. ‘I feel unfocussed. Is this what you want us to feel? Am I the only one not to hear you talk about God?’

  ‘You and several billion others, including me,’ Percy said, stopping. He had walked so she was forced to let go of his arm in order to navigate a protruding shrub.

  ‘You are so unassuming, Percy.’ Trudy’s perfectly shaped eyes glazed over as she stood back and admired him. ‘In my dreams you are just the same. I love it when you come to me in those dreams. Somehow, I think that you already know all about it, because I imagined this moment many times, and then I dreamt of it, of standing in this park with you, and here we are. I…’

  ‘Are you taking the piss?’

  ‘Never. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable. It’s just when you…’

  ‘Stop it, please. I don’t want to hear. Your dreams are just that, Trudy, dreams. It’s not real. What you think of me is not real. None of it is real.’

  ‘I did dream of it, Percy.’

  The neat smile that formed on her face annoyed him. Once again he was reminded of his first girlfriend after she became a born-again Christian, which was shortly before they parted company. The expression was smug and it said: you’re so sweet in your ignorance.

  Percy was tempted to tell Trudy to stop patronising him, to stop being weird, and to piss off, but having returned within sight of the café and feeling Joyann’s eyes upon him, he decided to soften his response. It wouldn’t do for Joyann to watch him torture a middle-aged woman, even a plastic replica of one. It occurred to Percy then how well Trudy fitted in at Haw Par Villa.

  He stepped away so she would be unable to link arms again without rugby tackling him. ‘However you think you see things,’ he began, ‘whatever you think you believe, it is not true. You’ll see that one day, okay? You think you’ve had some kind of revelation, but you haven’t. It is in your mind, Trudy.’

  Her eyes moistened, as she stared. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Percy trawled his brain for an
explanation that might make sense, one that didn’t include the words diseased, sick, mind, and surgery. Joyann was watching closely, Percy knew. He could risk a simple comforting pat to her head and leave it at that, but he wanted to shake her off quickly, to say something to end her nonsense. Given Percy’s natural propensity for sarcasm and flippant remarks, the statement he formulated was never likely to move things in a helpful direction.

  ‘Okay Trudy,’ he said, after filling his cheeks with a hot breath and slowly letting it go, staring at her intently all the while. ‘There will be a revelation, and then you will see me for who I really am. I am human and horribly flawed. And believe me, I am far from perfect.’ He took a step and leaned in, and she responded by moving her head closer to his. His mouth almost touched her ear, so Joyann couldn’t know what he was saying. Trudy smelled of hair care product, the same brand Sal always used. ‘I don’t care if what you do is right or wrong,’ he whispered, ‘because I am a complete and utter bastard. And that, my dear Trudy, is God’s honest truth.’

  Trudy drew back, open-mouthed. Then her eyes lit up, and she grabbed his hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Percy! Thank you.’

  As she hurried away, Percy stared after her shapely form. He was baffled. He could not imagine what he had said to make her so happy. Hadn’t he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her, that he had no interest in anyone else and what they did or did not do? It couldn’t have been plainer that he didn’t give a shit. What had gone wrong?

  Sitting once more with a now smirking Joyann, Percy decided that in future any form of reassurance or explanation would not feature in his dialogue with Trudy or anyone else, because he would avoid discussion with insane people at all costs. He could feel the hairs on his neck lifting at the whispered words being shared behind him. Percy couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but he knew Hester and Trudy were talking about him. And he knew that Trudy was happy.

  Soon, the two women stood up and announced they were off to continue their tour of the park. As they passed, so Hester placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder, and gently squeezed.