The Cult of Following, Book One

  As before, Art’s reply was instant. 

  Been a very long journey. Dubai airport was nicest of them all. Just got in and having a cup of tea. Yes, had a great time. Stay out of trouble. Art.

  For an instant, the miles grew enormously and the regret Percy felt at Art’s departure fully revived. But soon his mind became caught up in other things, as he sat and waited for his name to be called.

  Chapter 25

  JOYANN TAN

  At first, Joyann was not sure if her partners would agree with her idea, but the more she thought the more convinced she became, so much so that she knew they could not fail to be of the same mind.

  A decision was long overdue regarding whether to expand the hardware company by opening a third branch, or by creating a new store dedicated to pet goods. Both hardware stores were doing very well, but greatest profits came from the pet products they offered. The change to a specialist pet store would mean stocking a few animals, since Joyann had done her research and learned that pet stores containing pets did better than those offering only supplies. People enjoyed browsing the animals as much as they enjoyed buying them, perhaps even more so.

  They would certainly need to keep a few rodents, but dogs and cats too, and this was one area where differing views were most evident. She and her brother could see nothing wrong in it, but their partner had spent much of his childhood and early adult life in Britain; it seemed in Britain, puppies and kittens no longer had a place on the high street. The solution to the problem of expansion had been eluding them all, and to open a new place with an unchanged format looked likely. But the more Joyann thought about it the more it felt like failure, because in her heart she knew none of them wanted to indefinitely expand such an increasingly eclectic business. Of course they could do exactly that. Daiso, the Japanese owned two-dollar store, was already in Singapore selling everything from stationary to socks and seaweed, and there were many similar businesses across the globe. But discount retail seemed to be the modern home of diversity, and discount was not a future any one of the three wanted. On this point, they were in total agreement.

  Joyann was sure she had found the solution. A regular pet store without animals would not prosper, but when stepping inside a high-end canine boutique no one would expect to find a dog other than a client trying on clothes. She could open a grooming parlour alongside it. Who knew that her life might take such a surprising direction? She’d never even owned a dog.

  Norman Sullivan had prompted this idea into life. He had come to the store on Sixth Avenue to buy poo bags. He’d browsed the tiny pet section that had recently moved from a corner behind pots of paint to a larger space near the front, alongside a wide range of brushes and mops. He’d picked over the selection of dog collars with surprising interest and pulled out leads as if inspecting neckties for himself. Joyann had watched with interest. 

  ‘Will you be getting any jackets in?’ Norm asked, allowing a short diamante lead to drop back into place.

  ‘For dogs?’

  ‘Yes. I’d like one for Cocoa. Something thin that will pack away.’

  ‘She would be very hot, Norman.’

  ‘Hmm. Maybe. But I was thinking for occasional use, perhaps when we walk and I know the rain might be heavy. Something in white, perhaps. Thin enough to fold into my pocket.’

  ‘White? For a dog?’

  Cocoa was not with Norm that day. He told Joyann she had been left at home with the maid for no other reason than she wanted to stay. Norm had been offended by his pet’s apparent preference.

  ‘I think it would look good with her chocolate coat,’ he said.

  Joyann pondered for a moment while Norm selected some expensive dog treats from a point-of-sale stand that had arrived only the day before. ‘I could get you one,’ she offered.

  ‘Would you?’ he smiled, but the curve of his mouth soon flopped. ‘But what if I don’t like the style? Or it doesn’t fit properly?’

  ‘Then do not buy it. You will be under no obligation.’

  ‘Well if you are sure.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then thank you, Joyann. How long will it take?’

  ‘Give me a week. I’ll call you when I have found something. Okay?’

  After Norm had gone, having bought the treats and a new collar while almost forgetting what he had originally come in for, she’d wondered why he didn’t try one of the proper pet shops for the jacket. But then, he could easily buy poo bags from the supermarket, so perhaps he was a man supporting local business; or simply supporting a friend. She smiled at this thought; they were friends because of the business.

  Joyann was thinking of all this while standing on the sideline of a pitch at Turf City, watching her son, Lucas, play football for the under ten’s. For whatever reason, he had not joined a Singaporean team but instead played for ANZA, an Australian and New Zealand Association historically set up to support people from those two countries, but which had grown into a large organisation with members from anywhere including Singapore. The sporting opportunities were excellent, and though Ethan had at first questioned his son’s choice, both he and Joyann were pleased with it, satisfied Lucas would be mixing with a diverse crowd. The only issue Joyann had with Lucas’ sporting endeavours was that she and not Ethan seemed to be the one watching him every Saturday morning. Since the affair had come to light, Ethan was barely around, so on the few mornings Joyann couldn’t take him the maid had done it instead.

  It hadn’t been easy continuing to function day to day in the aftermath of what she had seen on Pulau Ubin. Suspicions may have formed long ago, doubts about Ethan that had made her desperately unhappy, but the feelings suspicion roused were nothing compared to those that confirmation slammed upon her. Yet through it all still there was a child to care for, work to be done, places to be gone to, people to be seen. She had continued with life immediately after as if a plastic bag were stuck over her face and her legs were pushing through treacle, yet no one could see it.

  The sensation inside her chest had been terrifying, as if she were verging on collapse. Joyann had once tried to describe how she felt to an old school friend, who had experienced the same betrayal. The friend had empathised and said that in her own case, she felt as if she were an observer, standing outside of her own body, unable to move herself or her life either forwards or back.

  To Joyann, this had sounded almost as light relief. While she herself had managed to function despite it all, she’d felt as if her soul had partially, rather completely, stepped out of her body and become caught, leaving her trapped as both observer and participant. Never before had she experienced anything so painful.

  As Joyann reflected, entirely distracted from the game in which Lucas’ team were being outplayed, she thought of Percy whose grief had turned him to drink. She had not been able to indulge in such freedom.

  *

  ‘Can I get an iced caramel from The Bean?’ Lucas asked. The game had finished six nil to the opposing side, and they’d walked back to the car with Lucas trailing behind talking animatedly with a friend about the other team.

  ‘Of course.’ Joyann smiled affectionately, as she gazed upon her sweaty son. This was fast becoming their Saturday morning routine. ‘When haven’t we? Though you are a little bit dirty.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘So, how was the match?’ Joyann leaned into the car and started the engine, switching the air conditioning to full, before closing the door. Ethan had always moaned when she did this, allowing the engine to run while the car was still parked just so she could cool it off a little.

  ‘You know how it went. You saw it. The new goalie is bad.’

  ‘Lucas! At least he is prepared to do it. When were you last in goal? You seem to think soccer is only about running around and scoring goals.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Come on. Take off your boots and put these on,’ Joyann pulled some flip-flops from the back seat of the car, feeling that already it was cooling inside. ‘G
ive me those, I’ll put them in this bag.’ Two days of heavy rain had left the pitches wet and muddy. ‘When we get to the café I might leave you to your drink. I want to check on the store, and make sure the new girl is managing.

  ‘But we always sit together.’

  ‘I know. I will be very quick.’

  ‘Go afterwards.’

  ‘Lucas…’

  ‘Please.’ He smiled pleadingly. ‘You can have your cappuccino and I will have my iced caramel. Can I have some cake for my lunch?’

  Joyann raised her hands in defeat. ‘Okay. You win. But I am so hot I think I will have an iced caramel too.’

  ‘Then we can go to the cinema.’

  ‘The cinema?’

  ‘Yes. The cinema.’

  ‘Is it your birthday, Lucas Tan? First soccer, then café, and then cinema? When is it homework?’

  Lucas paused, and Joyann looked at him. His face had fallen into a less happy expression, but as she watched he raised it again with purpose. ‘We don’t need him,’ he announced, levelly.

  Joyann felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘Okay. Cinema and then dinner. You win.’

  Lucas whooped with joy.

  Chapter 26

  FLOCKING

  Joyann and Percy ran to the nearest taxi rank and leapt into a cab. It was only a shower, but so heavy the drops seemed to fall as one. Each released a huge sigh once the deluge was shut out, and Joyann began folding her tiny soaked umbrella, while Percy pushed back the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead. He checked under his shirt to make sure the dressing wasn’t wet.

  ‘No shitting, uh?’

  Percy looked up sharply. The taxi driver’s eyes were reflected in the rear view mirror. Hard, black, almond, staring directly at him.

  ‘No shitting,’ repeated the driver.

  It dawned on Percy that this was the same man who, in the middle of the night in the pouring rain, had ejected him. ‘No. No shitting,’ he agreed, gruffly. ‘Perhaps you should have a sign.’

  Manoeuvring slowly into the moving traffic, the driver asked Joyann where they were going. His tone, Percy felt, had become noticeably more affable.

  She looked to Percy, who shrugged. 

  ‘Somewhere far away,’ she said, adding, ‘Percy, thank you for suggesting we have a day out on our own. I need a change.’

  ‘We both do,’ said Percy, thinking back to the rash offer made whilst under the influence of alcohol. A few nights before, the increasingly sociable Phrike had taken several people out for a meal to celebrate his fiftieth birthday in the absence of his wife, who had gone home to visit her parents. For Percy, and perhaps all but Norm, Joyann and Meera, it had resulted in a two-day hangover.

  ‘Airport? I wait and then bring you back?’ suggested the driver helpfully, hoping for a decent fare. ‘You can watch all the planes. So many. Nice day at Changi?’ 

  ‘No. Thank you.’ Percy frowned, racking his brain for ideas.

  ‘Zoo!’ announced Joyann. ‘Or Jurong Bird Park?’

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Zoo, please driver.’

  Joyann turned away and looked out of the window as the taxi sped off to the nearest expressway. Percy saw her turn, but did not consider why she may have done so. He straightened his damp clothes, uncomfortably twisted from diving into the cab, and asked the driver to turn off the air-conditioning, but the driver’s hand did not move from the wheel.

  After ten minutes sitting in silence, the driver began to make conversation. At first Percy ignored him, as did Joyann, but the man was determined to be sociable.

  ‘White tigers at Singapore zoo, they kill a man.’ His eyes flicked to the mirror, seeking reaction.

  ‘They did,’ agreed Joyann, idly.

  ‘They did?’ questioned Percy.

  ‘Mmm,’ continued the driver, seeming pleased to have provoked a response, ‘Two of them. Females. Male too lazy, just watch. Terrible way to die.’

  Percy thought it an unlikely event, and made no attempt to continue the exchange.

  ‘Cage cleaner,’ the driver persisted, ‘very strange. Happy man, his family say, but he jabbed at the tigers with a brush, lay down and put a bucket over his head.’

  ‘It was terrible,’ said Joyann, quietly speaking to Percy only, ‘truly very sad.’

  ‘You know about this?’

  Joyann nodded.

  ‘Seems a strange thing to do,’ said Percy, still not convinced.

  ‘Mmm, very strange. Very strange! In front of visitors!’ Eyes widened in the reflection. ‘People throwing phones and other objects, all to distract the tigers.’

  Joyann sighed, ‘Not just throwing phones. Taking pictures. Some people have no morals.’

  ‘Yes, pictures. In the newspapers. The zoo closed for two days. My friend says now there is a panic button, and also a life belt.’

  ‘It’s true. There is a life belt. And a button,’ agreed Joyann.

  It appeared the evidence was undeniable, ‘Grim. What nationality?’ Percy asked.

  ‘Foreign,’ said the taxi driver, shaking his head a little. ‘So sad. Must have been crazy. Or in big trouble.’

  ‘Not nice,’ Percy mumbled.

  After a brief silence, Joyann suggested visiting the bird park instead. Her voice was dull. ‘I don’t feel like the zoo anymore,’ she said.

  ‘But isn’t that quite a long way from where we are now? Virtually heading in the opposite direction?’

  ‘It is, but as I said, I have gone off the idea of the zoo. Silly, but I don’t think I would enjoy it today, not now. I want to be somewhere distracting, but not distracting me with unhappiness.’

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ She leaned forward, ‘Driver. Bird park, please.’

  The taxi driver grinned. His story had extended his fare. ‘Like to stop and get takeaway coffee?’

  *

  Percy tipped heavily to ensure the annoying driver did not wait for the return fare. He had explained and re-explained to the man that he was not to wait for them, but the old driver was wily and playing ignorant, his English suddenly very poor. His behaviour surprised even Joyann, who could see no financial gain in sitting in a stationary taxi with no meter running, when there was a line of paying passengers waiting at the attraction’s taxi rank. Since tipping more than a few cents was not regular form, anymore than waiting when not specifically asked to do so, the driver was pleased with the money. 

  ‘Pay for cleaning seat!’ he grinned, before trundling off to join the queue.

  Percy scowled. ‘I’ve been had.’

  ‘You have,’ agreed Joyann.

  Jurong Bird Park was quiet, despite the comfortable temperature. Here the paths were dry, untouched by localised storms, and where they wound throughout the park so parties of school children streamed after teachers, while other visitors ambled between exhibits checking maps and drinking water. A few clusters of tourists smiled and joked with one another, ice creams in hand. Nothing was too crowded or too empty. Joyann smiled appreciatively, and Percy found himself again admiring the prettiness of her face.

  He had never been to the bird park before. Under sufferance, he had visited the zoo and the Night Safari but never the bird park, which he could already see was like all Singapore’s attractions: undeniably good. The only problem lay in the number of birds present. The feathered flappy things were not his favourite beasts, and here there were far too many. He thought of the boy next door, and the latest conversation endured.

  The day before, Percy had been forced to sit with him by the pool. The child had cornered him in the way he often did, with endless chatter and questions. At the time, Percy had been drowsing on a lounger enjoying the pleasant weariness of a hangover gone, whilst mulling over Art’s latest email confirming the closure of their favourite pub. Art had found a new one selling ‘craft’ ales, and he hoped Percy would be back soon to help sample some of their wares. Percy had just brought the taste of one very baked bean flavoured beer to his lips,
when the boy’s soggy bottom had pushed against Percy’s leg and ruined the moment. By allowing one eye to meet the boy’s gaze, he had opened the floodgates for conversation. It was becoming the boy’s regular trick.

  ‘I thought you were waving at me,’ he said.

  ‘I have to keep it elevated.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Cut it.’

  ‘Oh.’ The boy used the water running from his fingertips to drip a pattern onto the hot concrete slabs. ‘I went on a school trip today, Uncle Percy.’

  ‘Don’t call me uncle.’

  ‘It’s polite.’

  ‘If you are Singaporean.’

  ‘We are Singaporean.’

  Percy had sighed. He knew the argument well. ‘No we’re not.’

  ‘Yes we are.’

  ‘No we are not.’

  ‘What do you call a person living in America?’

  He sighed again. ‘American.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  It wasn’t worth explaining, Percy knew. He had done so too many times already. He wriggled a little, closed his eyes and let out a comfortable sigh, as if settling himself deeper into the lounger. The boy did not take the hint.

  ‘I went on a school trip today, Uncle Percy.’

  Percy moved to total silence, which occasionally saw the boy off.

  ‘We went to an aerothing farm, and an organic farm.’

  Again, Percy did not respond.

  ‘I said we went to an aerothing farm, and an organic farm, Uncle Percy.’