The Cult of Following, Book One

  ‘Except if we remembered, then we might lead better lives in the future, and affect others in a positive way.’

  Percy decided not to reply. At least she had not said that he already seemed resigned to life as a slug, which was how he felt.

  As they made their way back into the main park, they saw two other members puffing up the path. ‘Norman is already here somewhere, but Meera can’t come. She has an extra client this morning.’ The woman speaking was the older of the two, and bright pink with heat.

  ‘Have you seen anyone else?’ Joyann asked.

  ‘Oh, I believe one or two are wandering around,’ the woman waved a hand in the direction of the main displays, ‘what’s the idea Joyann? Why meet here? Not that I mind.’

  ‘I have no idea. Percy?’

  Percy hesitated before answering. He did not want to engage with anyone other than Joyann. ‘I think it was felt that a change of scene and a day out was needed.’ He began to walk away, ‘Ten Courts of Hell was interesting,’ he said, attempting to deflect attention, and the possibility that the two women might want to join himself and Joyann. ‘Personally I’d prefer to live as an invertebrate than be mutilated just because I ripped a page out of a book at some point in my life. Take a look inside. See the punishments.’

  The woman’s friend ambled over to the entrance, staring up at the large-eyed figures.

  Joyann shook her head dismissively and smiled at the pink-faced woman, ‘Percy feels that suffering for our sins is not right. He thinks we should put our past wickedness behind us and settle down as slugs.’

  Ignoring the provocation, Percy came back and tapped her arm, ‘Come on, we’ll take a look around up there.’ He walked off once more, knowing this time she would follow.

  ‘Those were the two women I was telling you about, Percy,’ she whispered, once at his side.

  *

  Relieved to have escaped unwanted company, Percy wandered contentedly, relaxing once more amongst the giant figures and scenes. Passing the twenty feet high figures of Fu, Lu and Shou, Joyann explained they were Taoist deities popular with Chinese. 

  ‘They are gods, rather than sons of gods like you Percy,’ she laughed. 

  He ignored the jibe, though wondered when she would stop teasing him about Norm’s comment. He was aware that Norm liked him, and Sal had long suspected the depth of that affection, but Percy could not see how it mattered. While Norm could be a pain, he was no trouble.

  As they strolled on and up to the huge monument dedicated to Aw Boon Par, created in his honour by his brother, Aw Boon Haw, along with the theme park, the figures of Norm and Cocoa appeared. Norm nodded to them both but moved on without a word. 

  With a stricken expression, Joyann asked Percy if he thought Norm had heard her remark. Percy shrugged because he neither knew nor cared.

  ‘I will speak to him later,’ Joyann said. ‘This is why it is important not to talk behind a person’s back. I feel very bad.’

  Percy relented. ‘He didn’t hear.’

  ‘Still, I might speak with him.’

  ‘Up to you, but he didn’t.’ 

  Joyann did not look convinced.

  Percy noticed that beyond the monument was a series of life size scenes; a sequence of action, he assumed. A split second later, his heart almost burst with excitement; and he was happier still at experiencing something positive after feeling trampled for so long.

  ‘Oh my God! You know what this is, Joyann?’ he gasped, ‘this is that television series about Monkey and Pigsy… from when I was a kid. Maybe you didn’t have it here. Monkey, Pigsy and… what was the other one…?’

  ‘Sandy?’

  ‘Yes! Yes! So you know it? Have you seen it?’

  ‘No, Percy, I have not. But this story is an old one. It came about hundreds of years before television. Long before.’ She chuckled. ‘What is it with people from the West? Always thinking you created everything first? Hmm? Bet you don’t know that even your beloved pasta originated in China?’

  ‘I do know that, actually. And some people debate that fact these days, just so you know.’ He looked at her squarely, ‘AND, I never said the series was from the West. I just said I’d seen it.’

  Joyann shook her head dismissively, face serious. ‘So who decided which was to be West and which East, Percy? Think about it. The Far East? Far from whom?’

  Percy took a moment before answering. He was used to sharing banter with Joyann, but this seemed to be an unusual case of straightforward trouble making. ‘Now don’t be too hard on me,’ he said, lightly, ‘it is very difficult to know what came first in anything.’

  ‘Or who,’ she muttered.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  Seeming to consciously shake off the sudden bad humour that had taken her, Joyann smiled. ‘I agree. It is difficult to know what came first.’

  Turning from him, she opened her hands as if personally presenting the display before them. ‘Tell me Percy, what do you think of your story as it is shown here? Same as television? Were they naughty characters in your show?’

  Nearby, a sweaty looking Norm appeared again behind a very lively Cocoa. Again he kept his distance, lingering beside the monument.

  ‘Same same but different,’ Percy said, echoing a widely used phrase.

  ‘Percy.’

  ‘Okay, same same but same.’

  Joyann ignored his attempt at levity. ‘And do you think it is right for immortals to behave in such a way? Assuming, of course, there is such a thing as an immortal.’

  Percy raised an eyebrow but Joyann, even in her slightly improved mood, clearly wanted more from him.

  He thought for a moment. ‘Okay. With that assumption in mind, I suppose it is difficult for gods to behave as such amongst mortals, because human frailties are bound to be an influence. Maybe it is tempting to experience temptation itself? Perhaps that is why they always have human messengers and helpers, to avoid temptation. It would make a change to have a wayward prophet, though, wouldn’t it? They’re usually always so bloody pious.’

  ‘I cannot speak for the gods, Percy, unlike you, but I suppose it is true that most people who preach, for instance about resisting temptation, have rarely been truly tested themselves.’ 

  ‘Exactly!’ Percy exclaimed, pointing a finger at Joyann. ‘A monk half way up a mountain will find it fairly easy to resist a page three model. But put him in a room with one, and bingo!’

  ‘Page three?’

  ‘Topless girls, on page three. You know, in the newspaper. There always used to be…’

  ‘Not a newspaper in Singapore.’ Joyann interrupted.

  ‘I suppose not. Only scenes of dead people, or their grieving relatives, plastered across the front page. It’s all good news here in Singapore, folks, unless running a story offers an excuse for a graphic photograph.’

  ‘We are all different, Percy.’

  As they talked, Norm once more moved on without speaking, Cocoa pulling and sniffing her way up to the top terrace where a series of Chinese proverbs were depicted.

  Joyann watched him go. ‘You know, Percy, maybe it is just that a god doing his own work, with all the magic that would necessarily be available to him or her, would not make for an interesting story. Gods are wrathful and remote by reputation, to keep us wondering and interested.’

  Percy agreed, ‘And to keep people fearful.’

  ‘And faithful.’ She fanned herself with her fingers. ‘My goodness, it is very hot today. Very sticky.’

  ‘Perhaps your God is telling us to get an ice cream back down at the café and finish looking around after that. I feel like I am being steamed alive.’

  ‘My God?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re an atheist.’

  She smiled lightly. ‘No. I believe. But I teeter.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

   ‘Well I am teetering on having a red bean and green tea ice lolly.’

  She laughed, ‘Ah, you are turning in
to a local, Percy. Next you will be eating nasi lemak and drinking with a straw from a small plastic bag.’

  ‘So what will you have?’ he smiled.

  ‘Probably a Magnum.’

  Chapter 16

  PULAU UBIN

  The calm water was not the inviting shimmering sea of a tropical idyll, but the surface inches were clear enough to reveal the prowling stripes and darting shadows of fish hunting beneath.

  With brightly painted hull, the bumboat travelled dead slow away from the small harbour in Changi Village, engines roaring as the aging captain opened the throttle. A short time later it docked at a small island, each of the twelve passengers two dollars poorer for the short ride. All around, the sea was now crystal clear, the grey-green working waters of Singapore a mile behind yet seeming a world away.

  ‘Not exactly a long way to come for a holiday, Percy,’ Phrike commented, as he waited for other passengers to disembark, wiping sweat from his heavy brow.

  ‘As I told Meera, I am not ready for a holiday. But this… something like this… is exactly what I need, just a day away from everything. It’s perfect and a bargain, and in Singapore a bargain is not something to be sniffed at. I mean, two dollars. What else can you get for two dollars?’

  ‘Chicken rice,’ offered Joyann.

   ‘Trip cost four dollar. Two dollar here, two dollar back,’ interrupted the captain, ‘unless you do not want the return boat home! Four dollar very cheap, lah. Come. Come.’

  Joyann reached out and touched Percy’s arm, kindly, ‘Of course this is what you need. Anyway, what you do is up to you. Only you know how you feel, Percy.’ She smiled, and looked out through a window. ‘Goodness, I have not been here in a very long time. You keep taking me back to my childhood, Percy.’ 

  ‘You used to come here?’ asked Phrike.

  ‘Oh yes. It was a quarry when I was a girl, with a large community and a big school. Well, quite big, for the time. My father’s friend lived here and my brother and I would come with my father to visit. It was fun. Now I think there are very few people left, maybe one hundred, maybe less. It’s more a nature reserve than anything.’

  Phrike gestured for Joyann to leave the boat ahead of himself and Percy. ‘Pulau Ubin,’ he said, ‘I never thought I would actually come here, which is crazy when it’s so close. The wooden buildings make it look like Malaysia.’

  ‘Or Singapore not so many years ago,’ Joyann commented, ascending the steps into the increasing heat of the day.

  Once off the boat, the three took a moment to admire their surroundings. Nearby, in the shade of a wooden canopy, a group of school children squatted on the jetty, each painting the scene before them of tangled native trees, huts and sandy shores littered with rocks and driftwood; all very different from the city they had left behind for the day, and nothing like the manmade beaches of East and West Coast parks.

  ‘Okay. Bikes,’ said Percy, scanning ahead for direction.

  ‘Bikes?’ questioned Joyann, looking small next to the two men, and neat in her white cotton shirt and black shorts.

  ‘Bikes,’ repeated Percy, ‘so we can see the island. We can rent them.’

  ‘We’re not going to walk?’ 

  ‘You can ride a bike, can’t you?’ Phrike asked.

  ‘Of course. But it was a very, very long time ago I last rode one.’ She took a deep breath, almost comical in its drama, ‘But it will be fine. I will be fine. Let us go. Come. Perhaps it was here… perhaps it was here I last rode a bike!’

  Phrike, dressed in his usual khaki, rested an arm across her shoulders, ‘I am sure you will be fine, Joyann. It will be cooler on bikes, too. I don’t fancy walking far in this heat. It’s unbearable.’

  *

  With bicycles hired – ten-dollar fancy bikes rather than five-dollar clunking antiques – they rode off, Joyann wobbling at first but soon discovering that riding a bike is like riding a bike. Percy led the way, already feeling the benefit of change to such a degree that he found himself vaguely satisfied. It was almost as if a nice day out with friends was enough. Almost. Would Art enjoy this, he mused? He decided that Art probably would, providing there was a pint of beer at the end of it.

  Phrike also seemed to enjoy the atmosphere, with his huge frame perched upon the saddle. ‘This is a special thing,’ he proclaimed heartily.

  Joyann agreed, poetically declaring that even the humidity was a special thing, a thing of jungles and fecundity and the foundation of life.

  Uncomfortable with effusion and the sense they were becoming The Thrilled Three – much older second-cousins-once-removed to The Famous Five – Percy pedalled ahead.

  The island paths were quiet despite the number of people milling around the restaurants and numerous bike rental outlets located near the quay. Struggling up hills and speeding down slopes, passing small wooden homes with washing on lines and dogs prostrate in the road, muddy mangroves and beautiful blue-green lakes, the trio rolled on happily and quietly. Eventually, hungry and hot, they pulled into the shade of the impenetrable looking rainforest, Joyann and Phrike grinning with pleasure. Just as they stopped, a wild boar trotted out from the undergrowth and across the path ahead of them, closely followed by one tiny galloping piglet. In seconds, both mother and baby had vanished.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Phrike displayed such an unusual level of excitement that both Percy and Joyann seemed more amazed by him than the appearance of the boar.

  ‘How wonderful,’ Joyann said, laughing. ‘And the baby, so cute. I have never seen one before.’

  ‘Nor me,’ said Percy. ‘But do you know what? I would really love to see a snake.’ He slipped off his bag, the back of his shirt soaked with perspiration. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve seen one.’

  ‘Are you never satisfied,’ remarked Phrike. ‘Be glad to have seen the boar!’

  ‘I am, Phrike. But I really want to see another snake.’

  Joyann grimaced, ‘A snake? You are mad. I do not want to see one, so please do not tell me if you do.’

  Like so many, she had not been raised to think meeting a snake could be considered a pleasant encounter. In contrast, coming from a country with so few and where none were especially dangerous, Percy marvelled at the animals.

  Phrike was studying the point at which the boar had disappeared, trying to see beyond the thick wall of green. ‘I must do this more often,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘There are reserves in Singapore,’ Joyann suggested, ‘big ones.’ She feigned a shudder, ‘with huge lizards and boar and snakes and monkeys, crocodiles and goodness knows what else.’

  ‘Then we should go.’ Phrike took off his rucksack. ‘Anyone want an apple?’ His lined face was bright with the thrill of the sighting.

  ‘People-watching from the comfort of a café maybe over for you, Phrike. Maybe pig-watching by bike could be your new thing,’ Percy observed, ‘I think you may have discovered a new interest.’ 

  ‘Rediscovered. God, I loved this sort of thing when I was a boy, much to my parents’ dismay. Academics, you know. History rather than natural history, and very much preferring an indoor life.’ He pulled out a bag of fruit and shared it. ‘This is a good day for me, a very good day. Thank you Percy! Great idea of yours.’

  Noticed but without note, a couple were standing a little way ahead on a bend. They too were rummaging in a bag, but occasionally they pulled each other close as new lovers, interludes of kissing slowing the foraging, aware only of themselves. 

  A certain laugh caught Percy’s attention, and so he took time to observe the pair properly. In a way it began only as an absent glance, without thought or consideration, no more than a reflex action in response to a familiar sound. But the glance soon became something more, as his casual study became a hard and motionless examination. Soon Joyann’s gaze joined his. 

  The next thing either man knew, her barely eaten apple had been hurled into the trees and she was cycling off at full pelt back the way they had come.

  Chap
ter 17

  A REVELATION

  ‘Percy? Where the hell is she going? What’s up?’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘What?’

  Percy turned away sharply, hiding his face, putting his bag on hastily and clumsily. ‘That,’ he said bitterly, ‘is my fucking wife.’ He nodded the side of his head towards the couple, still engrossed in each other and oblivious to the crisis nearby.

  ‘Shit!’ Phrike gasped.

  ‘Shit indeed. I suppose that is the man my fucking wife isn’t fucking.’

  ‘But what about Joyann?’

  ‘What? Oh, I don’t know.’ Percy shook his head, ‘Fuck, what a mess.’ He could feel a tight lump rising in his throat, and fought to contain it.

  ‘Percy…’

  ‘I knew there was someone else. I fucking knew it. Bitch.’

  Phrike put his large hand on Percy’s shoulder. ‘What do you want to do. Do you want to go over? Confront them?’

  Percy wiped away a tear that had defied suppression. ‘No. I’m going to get as far away from that fucking, fucking, fuck bitch as I can. I’m sorry, Phrike, what with the pig and everything. You coming?’

  ‘Yeah. We’d better find Joyann. She looked terrible.’

  Percy nodded, gravely.

  Phrike quickly zipped up his bag and threw it on, ‘Let’s go. She won’t have got very far. You know what girls are like.’

  Ahead of them, Joyann had stopped. Breathless and hot she stood beside her bike, bent over, vomiting into the bushes. By the time the two men were in sight she was off again. Percy called, but she kept going until they caught up and forced her bike to a halt. It wasn’t difficult and she nearly fell off.

  Pale, her face stiff with grief, it was clear Joyann had drastically lost her spirit.

  ‘You okay?’ Phrike asked, for want of something better to say.

  She stood silently. A jungle fowl shot out from the bushes, clucking fussily, before running off along the path.

  Putting what he had seen to one side, Percy dug deep. It seemed no one was going anywhere until a degree of equilibrium was re-established. ‘Back there. You know, it doesn’t matter,’ he lied. ‘It was a shock, yes, but it is over between us now, anyway. Really. It doesn’t matter.’ He stared at Joyann, astonished at her continued distress. ‘It was very sweet of you though, to worry, but no need.’

  ‘It matters.’ Grimly, Joyann shook her head and turned away.