With an unusual flicker of nostalgia, Percy’s mind settled momentarily on the memory of more British images, drawn from an incident long ago that he would rather forget, one that involved nakedness, cold, an upset stomach and a neighbour’s unread newspaper. Here, it seemed, was an emerging theme. Not his fault, of course. He thought of the dog-eared posters carelessly stuck to the police station walls depicting pointing policemen, scared children with vulnerable faces, and ragged looking burgled homes. He smiled a little. At least in a station like that, nothing would remind you of the better things life could offer.
Percy was sitting in a comfortably padded seat. Around him, people moved almost as if they were in the hush of a library, but none truly displayed the uneasiness a librarian’s eye could cast into one’s heart with the slightest glance for the slightest sound. These people were quiet, but not without confidence, because they knew what they were doing, had accepted their fate, or both. Either way, most would soon be making their way home or back to work. Percy, on the other hand, felt himself to be like the paintings: decidedly out of place. Not only that, he still felt the unnerving sense of insecurity that had been poked into life by the mysterious directive telling him that he should come here, the letter written in a very authoritative manner. When first he read it, Percy thought it must have something to do with immigration, but his own paranoia was forced to yield to the fact that even if something were wrong, it would not be the concern of the traffic police.
The summons had come as a shock. As he sat, ticket in hand, waiting for his number to appear on the digital screen, he pondered his situation. Never would he have believed he would end up in a police station in Singapore, and never would he have dreamed it might look like this. Everything anyone might need was at hand. Clean toilets, drinking water, useful magazines, even a tiny indoor hawker centre tucked around a corner.
Behind him was a thin white woman, make-up so thick it seemed to be all the substance she had. As she argued with an attendant, her husband supported her, both morally and physically, for the made-up face rested upon a frail body. She needed her driving license to get around, she hissed. She needed to come to one of the booths, the officer replied, politely.
Percy folded his arms and crossed his legs. It had been a long wait, and eavesdropping upon the problems of others was losing its attraction. Just then his number came up. Before he moved a single muscle, Sal rushed in.
‘Percy! I’m not too late am I? Haven’t missed anything?’
Flushed from rushing, Sal flapped the neck of her cotton shirt to cool off. As always, Percy could not help appreciating her form. How he missed those oracles. The fancy passed. He got to his feet with his guard firmly raised.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, coldly and not unreasonably.
‘Same thing you are. Have you seen anyone yet?’
Percy slowly revealed the ticket in his hand, ‘I’ve just been called…’
‘Come on then,’ she bustled, ‘in we go.’
Snatching the ticket, Sal scanned for the correct doorway and bundled Percy in the right direction.
He shrugged her off, ‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘No.’
‘You’re my witness, sort of.’
‘To what?’
Before she could answer, they were through the door, arriving at a desk behind which a uniformed police officer was sitting. He acknowledged them with a cheerful good afternoon, before returning his attention to the papers before him. Percy and Sal sat down.
‘Sal?’ whispered Percy.
She gestured for him to wait.
As if having already read the situation through the top of his bowed head, the officer looked up. ‘Mister and Misses Field.’
‘Yes.’
‘Mister Field, do you know why you are here?’ The officer’s face showed no emotion.
Percy’s heart thumped. This was not the local nick; this was a police station in Singapore. They still had the death penalty. ‘No.’
‘I see. There is nothing to worry about, Mister Field,’ the officer continued, ‘and if you wish never to see your wife again, then you are free not to cooperate.’
Percy froze.
The officer’s face broke into a huge smile, and he roared with laughter. ‘So sorry! Just my little joke. Very funny, huh?’ He wiped a tear from his eye.
Percy caught Sal’s look of delight, and scowled.
The man before him was slight, with black hair perfectly groomed, his face smooth, verging on pretty. In his smart uniform he looked a little camp, a surprise then to be confronted by such a deep and hearty laugh.
‘You are separated from your wife, Mister Field?’
Percy nodded weakly.
The officer tapped the pile of papers before him, ‘Misses Field was pulled over for a driving offence, Mister Field. When the officer processed her details it became clear there was an outstanding warrant.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Issued for her arrest.’
Percy gasped, and looked to his wife.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, ‘I’m fine. Sort of.’
Percy wrinkled his nose dismissively. He had not felt concern for Sal. She, after all, was the mother of all cows, proven by her marvellous udders. He was more concerned that, as her dependant, he might be ejected from the country.
‘What this means, Mister Field, is that Misses Field… or rather the courts… require evidence from you.’
‘From me?’
‘Yes.’
‘What the officer is telling you Percy,’ added Sal, her tone less friendly than the officer’s, ‘is that because you did not forward my post, I did not receive either the initial fine, any reminders, or the summons to appear in court. Or, I might add, the notice declaring I should present myself to the nearest police station.’
‘Ah.’
‘Quite!’ she snapped.
‘There are a number of other issues that could be a matter of law, Mister Field. For instance, if you have deliberately disposed of another person’s mail?’
Percy felt his stomach lurch.
‘You haven’t thrown my post away, have you Percy?’ Sal cried, panicking.
‘Of course not,’ he lied, ‘I just haven’t been able to forward it.’ Percy took a moment before continuing, ‘After all, I don’t know where you live.’ A surge of triumph overwhelmed his guilt.
The officer looked to Sal.
‘I haven’t given him my address, it’s true. I thought I had taken care of the post and so on. Obviously not.’ Her focus shifted, ‘And I assumed you might call me if anything came, Percy.’
The officer leaned back in his chair, ‘Clearly you are separated. But I think the best chance of reprieve for you, Misses Field, is if Mister Field signs a statement declaring that you no longer live together, and stating that he has not sent your mail to you since… when?’
‘Sorry?’ Sal asked
‘Since when have you not received mail?’
‘Since I left,’ she said, sharply.
‘So sorry, I meant the actual date, Misses Field.’
Sal agreed to provide a date.
‘And will you cooperate, Mister Field? Will you sign the papers?’
Time slowed magically with the glorious beauty of the situation. Percy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Agree and she would be indebted to him, even if, inadvertently, he were the cause of it all. Refuse, and she could end up in prison. In Changi. He smiled. It was a tough call.
‘What will happen to my w… er… to Misses Field if it can’t be proved?’
‘Up to the judge.’
Percy continued to weigh things up.
‘Percy!’ wailed Sal.
‘What?’
The officer placed his hands carefully on the papers, ‘Mister Field, I should remind you that the situation is serious.’
‘Percy!’ Sal hissed.
‘Steady Sal. It wasn’t me driving th
at car.’
‘Only because you’re too lazy to try driving here.’
‘Only because I would not be able afford a car in Singapore, even if I was prepared to put up with driving nose to tail whatever the speed.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Yes it is. You told me you’d stopped indicating because it was giving the enemy a tactical advantage.’
Sal glanced at the officer, sheepishly. ‘Only because everyone always closes the gap.’
‘Well I still can’t drive here, Sal. I don’t want to and I can’t afford to. Some of us don’t have wealthy boyfriends. Do we?’ Percy darted a look to the officer, searching for support. He realised the startled man thought his sexuality was being questioned after, wide-eyed, he began adjusting his tie.
‘It’s my car, paid for by me!’ she protested.
‘What? What happened to the company car? Or have you got two? Maybe you have three, or four?’ Percy was talking rubbish, but it felt better than saying nothing, which at that precise moment was the only alternative.
Sal shook her head, looking at him with a sneering pity.
‘Mister Field?’ The officer encouraged.
‘Percy, I cannot believe you are thinking about whether or not you should do the right thing. How could you be so heartless?’ An expectant silence hovered briefly, before Sal continued, ‘Percy Field, if you do not help me...’
‘What? You’ll leave me? Run off with another man? Oh I forgot. You already have.’
Sal wrapped her arms around herself, tightly.
‘Mister Field, think carefully about the consequences if you refuse to cooperate. In the back of the station is a special cell. Only cockroaches leave.’
‘Very amusing,’ said Percy.
The officer glared, ‘Is it?’
Percy’s face fell.
The officer roared his deep laugh, ‘So sorry!’
‘For God’s sake, Percy. We’ll be here all day at this rate.’
Percy’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and he groaned a little. It was as if long trapped wind was seeking release, but the relief brought would be offset by the impending stink.
‘Percy?’
‘Mister Field?’
‘Okay. Okay. I will sign a statement.’
‘Thank you. But you’d better do it, Percy. It’s the least you can do after all I have done for you.’
‘Like what? Leaving me?’ He held a finger to his lips thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose that was a fairly big favour.’
Sal huffed irritably.
‘Listen, I have said that I will do it, so stop nagging.’ It had occurred to Percy that if Sal ended up in prison, he really might be put on the first flight home. Also, he sensed there were probably legal means to force his cooperation. ‘If I sign the statement, am I still required to present the letters?’
‘Yes,’ said the officer.
‘Right. Okay. I will try and find them.’
‘Try?’ Sal was exasperated.
‘Try,’ repeated Percy.
‘The letters are important, Mister Field. You will have to do better than try. Look,’ the officer reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope, ‘they look like this. I think it would be better not to open anything. More evidence for the Judge; something to show the letters were never read by anyone. Okay?’
Percy wondered how long he would be able to spin it out, for no matter how hard he looked he would never find the letters. Singapore’s waste disposal department had surely incinerated that small handful of officialdom. Maybe the cool air they were sitting in was fuelled by the energy that burning paper had given.
‘Good. When you have them please bring them here. No need for an appointment, just call in and leave them with a colleague. Here is my card.’
‘Or give them to my wife to bring?’ Percy suggested, not seeing why he should inconvenience himself further.
The officer nodded, before politely ending the meeting. As Percy and Sal stood to leave, he remarked, ‘You should meet my wife.’ The officer emphasised the word wife with an eye on Percy. ‘Very good woman. Your marriage is in trouble, she could be the one for you. Third person can help.’
Percy frowned, ‘Excuse me?’
‘Marriage counselling! She is excellent. Of course I have to say that, otherwise she will leave me!’
Percy was beginning to think this man was merely passing the time of day, his job nothing more than a means of collecting material for a comedy routine. He suspected that one day he might see the officer out of uniform, standing on stage at the Hollandse Club or British Club, killing the Comedy Club audience with his searing wit. Percy certainly would die.
The officer whisked another business card from his desk. ‘Here, maybe she can help you. Cannot, then you know you tried. Yeah?’
Sal smiled mournfully, ‘Thank you, but no. Trying is exactly the reason I left him.’
*
Percy marched away from the station.
‘Do you want a lift?’
‘With a known criminal? No thank you.’ Percy paused and turned to face his wife.
‘Fancy yourself as a comedian, too, Percy? Must be catching. So, do you or don’t you?’
‘I said no. Not with you.’
Sal took a slow breath. ‘Thanks for coming, Percy. I mean it. When shall I come and collect the letters? Seems only fair that I hand them in.’
‘Uh…’ Percy took a few steps back, clasping his fingers together and pushing his palms downwards, as if stretching out the muscles in his arms and shoulders.
Sal gasped. ‘Oh my God. That was a guilty stretch. Like when people are nervous.’
Percy said nothing, his interlocking fingers still clasped and dangling.
‘It was,’ Sal took a step closer, inspecting her estranged husband’s expression, ‘and you look guilty, Percy. For God’s sake, you haven’t got them, have you? I knew it!’
‘Uh. Of course I have got them. Come round at the weekend. Okay? You can have them then.’
Sal took a moment to deliver a hard glare. ‘Just make sure you’re in.’
‘And where would I be?’
‘I don’t know? Out with Norm?’
Percy turned away a little, and composed himself, setting aside the irritation. ‘Thanks for the offer of a lift, Sal. See you when you come for the letters.’
‘The weekend then?’ she confirmed, tone clearly voicing her doubt, ‘you’ll be there?’
‘Yep. See you. SMS me first.’
Crossing the road, Sal turned and cast an accusing eye over Percy, as if this cutting look might somehow uncover the truth.
Percy set off for the nearest bus stop, conscious of the perspiration on his shirt. It was guilty sweat, and Sal’s reproachful gaze had deepened the colour.
On the way home, Percy thought about Norm’s consistent friendship, and the personal interest in Percy himself that a few of Norm’s acquaintances in the Discussion Group seemed to be taking, wondering then why Sal could not see in him what others did.
Chapter 31
THE RETURN OF JOYANN
‘No Meera tonight?’
‘Why are you asking me?’
Norm chuckled at Phrike’s response. ‘Because you spend so much time together.’
‘Do we?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’ Phrike sipped his beer. ‘As far as I know she isn’t coming. She’s probably working. I expect she’ll make the next meeting.’
It was a balmy evening and Norm and Phrike were sitting together in the Polo Club, seats close to the edge of the veranda overlooking the now dark pitch. Despite taking up too much space on the previous occasion, the group had been permitted to come back providing numbers were reduced. Since many people were still away for Christmas and New Year, only ten members had replied to say they might come. The women who normally organised things were absent, and it was looking to be a meeting consisting of just two, when Joyann arrived.
She had been delayed bec
ause Lucas had at last been taken out for the day by his father, but was very late returning. The maid had told her to go, promising to call when he got home, but Joyann felt unable to do anything except fret until her son was safely back. There was never any question of Ethan keeping Lucas from her, for Joyann felt he had made it plain his priority lay with his new life and Sal, but she wanted Lucas back where he should be. With her. He had eventually turned up bursting with tales of Universal Studios and the incredible rides he’d been on, clutching a carrier bag filled with souvenirs. Joyann had been told they were going to the beach. After successfully hiding her irritation from Lucas, she’d gone out feeling anything but relaxed.
On walking into the seating area of the club, it was with some relief she spotted Norm and Phrike, because for a few moments she’d thought it was either the wrong night or the whole Discussion Group had moved on somewhere else without telling her.
‘Goodness. Where is everyone?’ she said.
‘Quiet isn’t it.’ Phrike replied.
‘No Meera?’ Joyann asked him.
Phrike shook his head, but with a strange look that she couldn’t quite read.
‘I’ve got a pitcher of lime and fizzy water. Would you like some?’
‘Thank you, Norman, but no, I shall order a drink in a moment. Are you well, Phrike?’ she asked, in response to his continued silence.
‘He thinks it’s strange for you to ask him about Meera,’ stated Norm.
‘Oh? Well, I am going to ask him about someone else, also. Is Percy coming?’
It was Norm who replied. ‘He said he was.’
‘Is that a new watch, Norman?’ Having noticed his face brighten considerably at the mention of Percy’s name, Joyann wanted to move his attention on. Norm was prone to swing between quiet blushes and effusive remarks when talking about Percy, and since she was feeling near the end of her patience with everyone, she thought it safest to change the subject.
He looked at his wrist, and talked about his Christmas and the ring he had given his wife. Joyann wondered, as he spoke, how it was a man could so ably live two lives. Not as Ethan had done, for many men and women have that kind of double life. It was more how Norm managed to be a husband to Verity when his adoration for Percy seemed insuppressibly strong. But had she misread him? Had she assumed him to be one thing while he was in fact another? Worse, had she fallen into the same trap as the rest of the world and thought to define someone by sexuality when in fact it didn’t matter. Maybe his feelings for Percy weren’t to do with sex, anyway. Then again, maybe they were. Who cared?