The Cult of Following, Book One

  ‘I tell you what,’

  ‘What Percy?’ Norm observed that Percy was already refreshing his wine glass, only moments after Norm himself had poured him a very full one.

  ‘Let’s talk about being true to oneself.’ Percy’s gaze fell with obvious weight upon several women whose faces were no longer exactly as nature intended.

  Norm felt his world tip. How did Percy know?

  ‘Marvellous idea,’ the older woman agreed. ‘I am sure we can easily find a good opening point.’

  Norm remained silent, studying Percy from the corner of his eye. He could not have known, he decided, for Norm had told no one. He ran through the conversation he and Percy had shared not so long ago, but found nothing there that might have given something away.

  ‘Should we wait for Joyann?’ Percy asked, to no one in particular.

  The members looked to one another for an answer. 

  Norm found his voice, ‘Let’s start. She can catch up, I am sure.’

  ‘Well that was easier than expected, eh Norm?’ Percy said. ‘Good idea.’

  ‘What?’ For a moment Norm thought Percy really did know of his topic choice. He felt his cheeks flush a little.

  ‘Suggesting we decide amongst ourselves,’ Percy continued, ‘the group can be too prescriptive at times. I much prefer just to see where things go, don’t you?’

  ‘Would you excuse me?’ Norm stood up. He was desperate for a few moments alone to think.

  In the apartment, the maid was washing the floor, so he tiptoed carefully across the wet marble and shut himself in the bathroom.

  Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, he pushed his fingers to his lips. Life and faith as a single entity seemed to be rolling away beyond his control. Beyond reach.

  Chapter 28

  KEEP AWAY FROM THE LIGHT

  It was nearly Christmas, and Percy had agreed to meet Norm for a walk one evening in the Botanic Gardens. Verity’s long look of disapproval in the hospital weeks before had made him uneasy, so when Norm said that his invitation was at her suggestion, Percy felt unable to refuse. 

  The gardens were aglow with festive lighting; pathways lined with inventively decorated Christmas trees, something of an annual tradition. Each tree was sponsored by a company, or represented a charity or school, and ranged in sophistication.

  ‘Jeez,’ Percy said, as they passed a primary school offering, ‘Looks like someone chucked a waste paper basket over this one.’

  ‘I like it,’ Norm said. In an unusually quiet frame of mind, Cocoa was sitting by his feet.

  ‘Why? It’s bloody terrible.’

  Norm gave Percy a reprimanding look, as if Percy were a naughty schoolboy. ‘I suppose you prefer the trees that are covered in expensive ornaments, carefully placed by artistic adults?’

  ‘Artistic or autistic?’

  ‘Percy!’

  ‘There,’ Percy pointed to a small sign beneath a pretty tree provided by an autistic society.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And yes I do.’

  ‘Well I find the children’s trees very cute.’

  ‘No. You just don’t like the idea that adults might be competitive with children.’

  Norm stared at Percy, clearly puzzled.

  ‘You don’t like the fact that I won my swimming race against the brat next door, that’s what this is about.’ Percy sidestepped to the next tree, covered in small plastic bottles.

  ‘It’s not about anything, Percy. So you can swim again? Now the stitches are out?’

  ‘Hell yes. And some. But you knew that already. I told you that he kept challenging me.’ 

  ‘You did? I don’t remember that. And anyway, it wasn’t what I was thinking of. No, I just enjoy the simple creativity of children. They have this way of offering quite complex ideas without knowing it, don’t you think?’

  But Percy was caught up in his victory, ‘I thrashed the little shit. I won by almost the whole length.’

  ‘I suppose I have always liked children. I thought about becoming a teacher once, but then I met Verity and we carried on moving about just as I have my whole life. I still think of teaching, of course, but there are lots of hoops to jump through these days.’

  ‘You could work wherever,’ Percy remarked. ‘It’s a transferable job.’

  Norm reached out and touched a huge golden pinecone topping a tree. Cocoa pressed her nose to a smaller, lower one, and took a long sniff before spluttering and repeating the exercise twice more. ‘And you, Percy? Do you miss working?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you do? Before.’

  ‘Me? I… oh my God! Will you look at that.’ Percy strode off along the path, having spotted a tree adorned with snowflake shaped lights that were moving in a sequence and giving the appearance of falling snow. This in itself was not unusual, but by the end of each sequence certain lights remained on giving the effect of snow-filled branches.

  Norm joined him. ‘If you like ornate and professional, you should come to the Temple with me. They have the most wonderful Nativity scenes. Truly beautiful.’

  Percy’s refusal was sharp.

  ‘I am not trying to convert you. You wouldn’t make a very good Mormon anyway. I just thought you might be interested.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you what?’

  ‘Make a good Mormon.’

  ‘You need to believe in God, for a start. Another is you don’t like to be told.’

  ‘Don’t like to be told what?’

  ‘Anything. And I admire it. I wish I were more like it myself. You think what you think and you don’t try and change the way others think, Percy. There is a lot to be said for that.’

  ‘For being a shit?’

  ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit.’

  ‘The Book of Mormon?’

  ‘No, the book of a friend I grew up with, whose mother thought as Mormons we were a pitiful family. But she had a point.’

  Percy, Norm and Cocoa continued their walk, Cocoa occasionally pulling to one side and snuffling at something with short breaths, checking the doggy news about who had passed through and what they had eaten. 

  ‘It’s so beautiful isn’t it,’ said Norm, wistfully.

  Percy had to agree that it was. Whatever his opinion of the few more basic trees on display, most were resplendent; magnificent examples of what made most people feel special at Christmas. Almost all were traditional firs, though a few were tropical shrubs, and none lacked effort. 

  As they walked, so strings of lights seemed to cascade from the high branches of the surrounding flora.

  ‘Where’s Vee at the moment?’

  ‘Jakarta.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Often.’ Norm stopped to admire a red and gold tree decorated with Chinese zodiac characters, its base crowded with glowing paper lamps. ‘Will you come?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the Temple.’

  ‘Vee coming?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’ Percy started moving to the next tree, and before Norm could answer his question, asked another, ‘Why doesn’t your church have a tree here?’

  Norm shrugged. ‘Because we have an amazing display of our own, maybe?’ His voice lacked its earlier cheery tone, for when Percy had first met him that evening, Norm had been almost childlike in his excitement; walking with his usual skip as if life were fabulous.

  ‘Do you have a tree at home?’

  ‘Me or Mormons in general?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Yes. Besides, Verity loves Christmas, too. What will you be doing this Christmas, Percy?’ Norm’s eyes recovered some of their brightness, ‘You’re welcome to spend it with us.’

  ‘That’s charitable Norm…’

  ‘Not charitable. A friend inviting a friend.’

  ‘… but I am staying at home.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Compound living Norm: as you know, you’re never alone, unfortunately.’


  Norm’s arm suddenly shot out after Cocoa. She had clearly spotted a friend. Norm followed her, telling Percy he would be only a moment.

  *

  The following day, Percy decided to invite Joyann to join them for the Temple visit. He’d agreed to go because he could find no reason to say no. And, being honest with himself, Percy was intrigued.

  Also, he wanted to talk with her about lashing out at him at the bird park, so was glad of an excuse to get in touch. He was pleased to have the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone; it was, after all, never a bad thing to do. This way he would not be alone with Norm and he could demonstrate to Joyann that there were no hard feelings. 

  He hadn’t expected resistance.

  ‘Percy, I am not in the right frame of mind to walk around Norman’s Temple and coo over people dressed up as Angels.’

  He had cornered her in her shop, where he found her putting up a stand displaying a colourful range of raincoats for dogs. He’d called in on his way home from The Tired Turtle, after an extended lunchtime.

  ‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘Norman invited you not me.’

  ‘He’d really like you to come.’

  She flashed him a sharp look. ‘I told you before that Norman is very keen on you. It is you he wants there, not me. But perhaps you shouldn’t go either. You are leading him on.’

  ‘Joyann,’ Percy said, edgily, ‘he might be clingy and he might be gay, but that doesn’t mean he has an ulterior motive. He’s a nice guy.’

  ‘And who is this standing before me? Not the Percy Field I know. Who is this new man that suddenly feels sympathetic when before he could not run away fast enough?’

  Percy shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinising eye. By agreeing to go to the Temple he wanted only to demonstrate to Vee that he was not the man she thought he was, though why he felt the need to prove himself to her remained something of a mystery. But he didn’t want to go alone, and for whatever reason this had set off some strange reaction in Joyann.

  ‘Tell me, Percy. Why this change of heart?’

  Percy smiled. It was the way she said heart; so similar to hat, the way she had sounded the word hard in hardware store when they’d first met. Momentarily he was thrown back in time. ‘Please come,’ he said, earnestly.

  She stopped arranging and put her hands on her hips. ‘If I come, then you must promise not to be rude to anyone. I cannot cope at the moment, not with pettiness.’

  ‘When am I ever rude?’

  Her eyes widened. 

  Percy considered her implied doubt to be an absolute cheek, and said so.

  ‘Percy Field, maybe you are not so different after all. I will come, but you must tell Norman first and make sure he does not mind. Because I know he has not invited me. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  She returned to her work and Percy began walking from the shop. He was almost at the door when Joyann called his name.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, turning back.

  ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

  He shrugged it off, and made for home.

  *

  The three friends stood together waiting for their group of six to be allowed to commence the tour. Percy was surprised to find Norm’s account was true, and the church’s Nativity was a slick operation. To avoid crowding they were instructed not to start before they were told to, and then they should move off from each room instantly the sequence they were viewing was finished.

  Norm did not introduce either Joyann or Percy to anyone, and Percy couldn’t tell if this was deliberate or if Norm himself did not really know the other people present. He was relieved, for the last thing Percy wanted was to be forced into stilted conversation with a bible basher.

  As members and guests moved around, so Joyann, Norm and Percy quietly looked about themselves. It was a modern setting, and to Percy very much like any public space of a similar era, and somewhat lacking in atmosphere. Though an atheist, as an adult Percy had always enjoyed the experience of visiting churches when he had Sal had taken holidays, whether in Britain or France or Italy, or some other country steeped in Christian history. The atmosphere old stone imbued – essentially one of damp cool air – to him seemed a unique thing. And the smell of age, the shadows, the beautiful stained glass and intricate carvings, the simple ancient imagery, never failed to make Percy feel as if he were somewhere special, though he’d never felt the temptation to try and believe what these things stood for. For Percy, God was about as likely as two sheep joining forces and passing themselves off as Pope.

  But here, with carpet tiles and plain painted walls, regular looking chairs and neon strip lighting, he felt the place was a wasted opportunity. He supposed the flock liked it well enough. What did strike Percy as interesting, however, was how the religious paintings were both modern and classical in appearance. Style and composition were old, while the faces appeared to be modern America’s idea of perfection. The paintings, he surmised, reflected the religion.

  Eventually their turn came, and they followed the directions given.

  ‘As I told you,’ whispered Norm, as they walked along a plain corridor. ‘Each scene of the Nativity is depicted in a different room. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.’

  They arrived at an innocuous looking door as another group came out. An unknown member of Percy’s group took the lead and pushed it open. Instantly, an ethereally brilliant light struck them, along with the sound of Angelic song.

  Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, the room was draped entirely in white cotton, and so brightly lit that it was almost dazzling. A group of young women dressed as Angels were singing, with one taking the lead. When she had finished, Percy’s group left. The corridor was suddenly an even greyer place to be. Instantly he decided this was the church’s plan: the rooms were faith, the corridors life. Inwardly he bristled, thinking he might leave Norm and Joyann to finish the tour without him. He felt Joyann’s hand in his back, urging him on to the next scene. He was reminded of Haw Par Villa, and the Ten Courts of Hell. Why couldn’t people just get on with things without burdening themselves with religion? Wasn’t life tough enough without choosing to add to the pressure? So many Thou Shalt Nots, whatever happened to the Thou Shalts?

  Room after room was set up as the first, with the whole space given over to the scene and real people acting, so that by the end of the tour Percy’s view had shifted considerably. He was still frustrated by the purpose of it all, but now felt Norm had been right to insist he came. Percy enjoyed theatre and what they had viewed was exactly that. 

  In the final space, an old market scene had been recreated in a large room, with refreshment stands attended by young people wearing nineteenth century North American costume. Percy accepted a cup of juice and found a corner. Joyann and Norm joined him.

  Joyann was the first to speak. ‘Norman, that was really very good. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘Can I get you some literature or something? It’s free. The Book of Mormon, or a DVD? Only if you are interested, of course.’

  ‘No, thank you, Norman.’

  ‘Percy?’ Norm smiled, before adding, ‘silly question.’

  Percy said nothing because nothing needed to be said. 

  ‘Shall we go, after we have finished our drinks?’ Joyann asked.

  The two men nodded and very soon they were dropping their paper cups into a bin and preparing to leave. As Percy walked by a table he looked towards a stack of leaflets, and on spotting his line of sight, a teenager dressed in sackcloth placed one in Percy’s hand. Percy planned to put it on the next available surface, but curiosity made him unfold it. His eyes fell upon what he supposed were the rules, and homosexuality was listed as a sin. At least, accepting it as part of who you are was a sin.

   Not making a deliberate statement, while equally not caring who saw him, Percy screwed up the leaflet and dropped it to the floor, eyes on Norm who was ahead of him and leaving the building. How could he hold dear such
a faith, just because one man, who lived so long ago that not one particle of his being any longer existed, held a view common during that ignorant time? A man, he thought to add, who could spin a good yarn at that. It was like peddling the belief that sniffing fresh flowers saw off the plague, whilst running a flea circus and keeping a rat as a pet. 

  After they had dropped Norm home, Percy said as much to Joyann as they drove along Orchard Road, a detour to see the Christmas lights illuminating a different kind of worship.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘it is more like smearing your face in lead paint in the belief that it makes you beautiful.’

  ‘I thought you believed in God?’ Percy replied.

  ‘I do. My God loves all men, but especially those faced with the challenge of bigotry.’

  Chapter 29

  A CHRISTMAS APART

  For Percy, it was the quietest Christmas he’d ever known but he’d barely noticed. Heat was something he could not associate with the festive season, and so come the actual day he embraced the strange silence that enveloped the condo, and spent time at the pool in the close company of cold beer. 

  The hours had passed pleasurably slowly, with Percy drinking, swimming, lounging and pulling bottles from the cold-box, before doing it all over again. He even lay out in the sunshine to pick up a little colour. The pool was surprisingly quiet, though footfall past it less so, meaning his simple Christmas day was one of greater indulgence than planned, interspersed as it was with offerings of Christmas cake and Panatone and other national treats, shared by kind neighbours. Percy was so well fed that he’d found no reason to leave his comfortable spot, except to use the toilet. Only once was he tempted to pee in the pool, resisting because he remembered a tale he’d heard about certain pools being set up to change colour with the addition of urine. The offender would be enveloped by purple or blue or green, or whatever the magic colour was, a cloud of shame probably in the shape of a giant pointing finger. Percy suspected it was an old wives’ tale, but what if it wasn’t?

  The boy was not there. He had gone away for Christmas to wherever his father’s family was living. Percy had always assumed they were British, but the father never spoke of Britain as home and Percy had never asked. It was the man’s first Christmas without his wife and the boy’s without his mother, just as it was Percy’s without Sal, though she had sent him a greetings card.

  That card. He’d been torn between throwing it away with all the other crap that came for her, or displaying it alongside the few others he’d received, mostly from the Discussion Group though one was from Art. In the end he’d done neither, and it remained lying flat on the kitchen counter, except after Mila had been to clean, when it stood upright and open. Percy always knocked it down again, before repositioning the wastepaper basket.