‘You choose,’ he’d instructed Percy. ‘I need the loo, though Christ knows why, when I’ve sweated out everything I’ve drunk.’
While Art was gone, Percy ordered two beers and two curries with one large side dish. The seat was near the window, overlooking the street and the open grassy area beyond. For the first and only time while Art was staying with him, Percy’s thoughts turned to Sal. Until not so many years ago, people brought cattle here to graze, she’d told him. Or was it buffalo? Percy couldn’t recall. Either way, it seemed farfetched, but then so was the idea that his wife might have an affair and run off with a married Singaporean named Ethan.
The food had come only moments before Art’s return.
‘So it’s served on a banana leaf?’
‘Yeah. What did you expect?’
‘I thought we were going to be eating the leaf. Shame.’
‘You could eat it, I imagine.’
Art smiled. ‘Looks good though.’
‘It is. Cheap too.’ Percy’s raised his pint, ‘To curry.’
‘To curry,’ Art had echoed, picking up his drink and then glugging it as he sat down, before letting out a satisfied breath. ‘God that feels better already. Mmm… and that looks bloody lovely.’
‘We’re meant to eat it with one hand, if we’re being authentic.’
‘Either hand? Only, it’s usually one in particular, I believe.’
‘Yeah. I forget which. Maybe the left? Or the right? It’s fifty-fifty.’
‘I see you know your subject.’
‘It’s the one you didn’t wipe your arse with, Art.’
Art looked to both his hands thoughtfully. ‘We can eat with cutlery, right?’
Percy was already shoving forkfuls of rice into his mouth. He’d put a thumb up and smiled, but inside felt quite sad that Art’s visit was drawing to an end.
*
All too soon Percy and Art were standing outside Terminal Three of Changi airport.
‘Let’s check in then we can find a bar,’ Art suggested.
Percy looked up into the sky, ‘Storm’s not coming this way.’
‘Probably a good thing at this point, but I would liked to have experienced one.’
‘The big ones are amazing.’
‘Next time,’ said Art.
‘So you’re coming back?’
‘Not much sign of you coming to England.’
Percy paused. ‘Maybe. Not sure what I’m doing.’
‘Well don’t come back yet. I want to see this place again before you leave. What does Sal think about you staying or leaving?’
This was the first mention of the situation. Percy shrugged. Art did not pursue it. The two men went inside, but not until Art had said farewell to the heat, suddenly far keener on it than he had been.
As they searched for the right place to check in, a strange quiet fell over them. The time for chitchat and banter was nearing an end and so now neither had anything to say. They queued for a short time, and after Art’s bag was safely checked in, headed for a bar.
‘There’s probably more choice on the other side of passport control,’ said Art.
‘Dunno. I’ve never been there. I’ve never flown out from here.’
‘I guess not. You don’t fancy a trip somewhere?’
‘Maybe. My last trip didn’t work out too well. Maybe next time you come we can go to one of the islands I’ve heard about, off the coast of Malaysia. Or somewhere else. Indonesia, perhaps. There are lots around, I think.’
‘Here. This place will do,’ said Art, spotting a bar at the far end of the vast building. ‘So you don’t know if you coming back?’
Percy shook his head.
‘Many friends here?’
Percy wasn’t sure what to say. While he had not shared any of the humiliating episodes involving Sal, he’d also not divulged his membership of the Discussion Group. He settled on vagueness, ‘Yeah. One or two.’
The omission of this had not started as a lie, only something Percy did not think to bring up. Then it felt to be embarrassing, because even in his own mind Percy was not reconciled to his more sociable side. Undeclared to Art for so long, it now seemed out of place to mention it.
‘Well you’ve lots to see and do here, so I can’t think you get bored.’
‘No. I never get bored.’
Soon they were at the bar and Art bought two bottles of lager and passed one to Percy. ‘To you Fieldy,’ he said, ‘to you and your wonderful life here in Singapore.’ He laughed, ‘Christ! I nearly said wonderful wife here in Singapore then!’
Percy chinked his bottle against Art’s, and chose not to reply.
Chapter 24
GLENEAGLES
Percy was sitting in a plastic chair outside a single grey door waiting for treatment. He felt foolish sitting there, though to an extent had been reassured by the nurse on the other side, who had popped his head out and confirmed it was the correct thing to do; to wait there, in that chair, in the open air. The room inside was small, Percy noticed when he’d peered in, little more than a broom cupboard. He wondered if this was what Singapore looked like behind the spotless marble veneer he’d known so far. Was this the medical equivalent of Orchard Towers?
As he sat with his hand hoisted up in a sling, so his mind drifted back to the reason for it all.
‘So who is that man?’
Percy had been heading out for an early morning swim, when he’d nearly tripped over the boy from next door. ‘Why are you sitting there?’
The child was on Percy’s step, skinny pig cradled on a towel in his lap. ‘For a change.’
‘Make sure you clear up any crap from that animal.’ The last time the boy had done this there had been a scattering of brown dung left on the step.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Those were tablets.’
‘No they weren’t.’
‘Yes. Dad takes them.’
‘I bloody hope he doesn’t.’
The boy chuckled a little. ‘They were! Special capsules.’
‘Poo coloured capsules?’
Nodding, the boy stifled a laugh.
‘Well whatever they were don’t leave anymore.’
The child moved aside so Percy could come down the steps. ‘So who is that man?’ he asked again.
‘Do you mean the man who was staying here?’ Percy began heading off, appearing to talk more to the air than the boy.
‘Yes.’
‘A friend from England.’
‘Is he your boyfriend?’
Percy stopped dead in his tracks and turned. ‘His name is Art and he is an old mate of mine. He’s gone back now; went the day before yesterday.’ He’d resisted asking what prompted the boy to say what he had, but to no avail.
‘So is he your boyfriend?’
‘Why?’
‘I just wondered.’
‘Yeah right. You just wondered.’
The boy’s smile hinted at victory, the sort only a child can understand.
Percy sighed. ‘He is a friend who is a boy, yes. Does it matter?’
‘So you have friends that are boys?’
Walking away, Percy had mentally kicked himself for engaging in conversation. The kid seemed to enjoy saying silly things.
Aside from the annoying runt, Percy found the condo to be pleasantly quiet. The school holidays were underway and so no busses motored in and out to interrupt the peaceful start. But Percy knew more children would soon be up and about and hogging the pool. So he’d hurried on his way, hopeful that he might achieve a good few lengths of front crawl and a pleasant drift about afterwards, before the sun cream slathered demons descended.
The condo, normally a tidy place where even the hanging of towels and washing from the windows was barred, was that morning littered with toys. The path Percy walked to the pool was particularly affected. Evidently no maid, child, or parent had cleared up the previous day’s mess, and so strewn
everywhere were small metal cars and plastic dinosaurs, pieces of crayoned paper, bottles of bubbles and chalked messages. It was as if some major event had taken place.
Percy’s usually tough view, of what he often thought of as human larvae, softened marginally as he recalled his own childhood and summer days spent chalking in the cul-de-sac where he grew up. He and a friend made it a regular thing to draw a giant the length of the road. Equally regular, was to discover that after tea its stubble-covered head was missing, scrubbed off by the local witch and her besom. Percy’s parents let him roam their quiet village from an early age, seeming keen for him to spend as much time outside as possible. A row with Sal revealed they had in fact grown weary of his griping, which began the moment he was free of the womb. His first word was no. Children, unlike adults, she’d added, cannot soften odium with wit. It had hurt.
Percy carefully picked his way through the debris, not noticing a little bark coloured lizard clinging to the trunk of a nearby frangipani tree, until the lizard – commonly known as a flying dragon – took off to glide to a new location. Percy wasn’t startled, for he liked reptiles very much, and the animal had no intention of coming anywhere near its human observer. But it was distracting, and as Percy watched the skinny creature sail through the air on outstretched skin, so he slipped on a small ball. To prevent a fall, he’d reached out, but this steadying hand slammed down on a wall topped with an arrangement of tiny china cats, and as an orange tabby with oversized blue eyes sliced into his palm, Percy had yelled angrily.
He’d snatched his hand away, and seeing blood pouring from the palm used his large towel to wrap it. Returning home, Percy walked by the regular Indian-Singaporean guard, who smiled and asked him not to shout anymore. Percy glowered and showed the wound while moaning about the mess.
The response was muted. ‘Children,’ was all the guard had said, before shrugging and walking on.
Sitting outside Gleneagles hospital, Percy thanked his lucky stars for the private health cover that came with Sal’s package, otherwise he would have had to trek to a local hospital and wait for hours on end as if he were back in England using the National Health Service. He refused to think about how he knew this fact – Sal – and fiddled with the temporary dressing, already coloured with blood. He looked around, feeling absurd.
Eventually, the door opened and Percy was allowed into the tiny room. There he answered questions and filled in forms, all the while astonished to find he was somewhere so understated. He wondered if it was a temporary space, though it seemed very established. Percy did not think to ask.
When the necessary forms were completed and Percy was moved on, it was not back outside but to the inner sanctum. Cool, carpeted and smartly decorated, Percy felt a bigger fool now than he had waiting to be seen. Of course it would be this way.
Amongst the fitted wooden shelving and divides, there were rows of seats. The place was awash with magazines and books, water dispensers and televisions showing the news. People in white coats or dark suits carrying paperwork walked by, while patients either sat and waited or were guided away.
And there in the middle of it all was a face Percy knew. He couldn’t decide if he should speak.
‘Percy?’
‘Vee.’
‘God what have you done? Let me see?’ Norm’s wife moved from her seat to join him.
He had forgotten how attractive her voice was, husky yet singsong with its Welsh tones. He smiled inwardly and felt his chair shift a little as she sat down next to him. ‘I cut it on a cat, ‘ he said.
‘A cat?’ she laughed, blue eyes sharp.
‘China cat,’ he clarified. Norm’s wife by necessity was sitting very close, and Percy felt a little uncomfortable. Sal had once made him feel this way, her elbow brushing his as they talked, not noticing yet noticing the touch. Surely this was not that? Though in possession of a beautiful face and voluptuous assets, Norm’s wife did not fit Percy’s ideal because Percy’s ideal was never quite so much bigger than himself. Besides, she was Norm’s wife, for what that was worth. More importantly, Percy had no interest in forming a relationship with anyone, however nice or lovely or clever.
‘Have you seen Joyann lately?’
Why was she asking about Joyann, he wondered? ‘Not lately. You?’
‘Me? Why would I?’
For a few moments there was silence. Then Verity drew Percy’s attention to a news report that had just caught her notice. The television was on mute, but subtitles were running across the bottom of the screen summarising international headlines. The pair talked for sometime about this and other relevant topics until Percy asked why Verity never came to the Discussion Group meetings, when clearly she had a lot to say.
‘Cheeky bugger.’
He grinned, ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I couldn’t. It’s Norm’s thing. It’s better that way. Besides, I am away so much that I couldn’t guarantee coming. Anything organised is a nightmare for me.’
‘So? Very few people come to every single meeting. And lots are professionals of one sort or another.’
Verity shook her head, nose wrinkling. ‘I don’t think so. But thank you.’
Just then a sharp painful twinge shot through Percy’s hand, causing an involuntary wince.
‘Looks uncomfortable.’
Percy thought that through the soft dressing and strapping that rose up snugly across his body in a temporary sling, it was impossible for his hand to look anything other than extremely comfortable. He said so.
To his great surprise, Verity laughed again, her face bright. ‘Okay. I imagine it must feel uncomfortable? Is that better? Can I see it?’
‘Not much to see,’ said Percy, as he carefully unhitched the sling and held out his hand. In the palm was the shadow of blood.
Gently, she took his hand and inspected it as she spoke. ‘Seen Norm lately?’
‘Only at meetings.’ Percy wondered what she was looking at. It seemed she was focussed on the dark patch.
‘Must be deep,’ she said. ‘Nasty.’
‘It was. I have to go into theatre, apparently. Check the tendons. Bloody kids.’
‘Bloody cats,’ she smiled. ‘You haven’t heard from him?’
‘Who?’
‘Norm!’
‘Oh him. Of course I have. You know Norm, he’s always in touch.’
Verity carefully returned Percy’s hand. ‘He likes you very much, Percy.’
‘Does he?’
‘Yes.’
Percy smiled meekly and nodded. He fumbled as he tried to return his hand to the sling. Verity helped him, manoeuvring the whole thing until it was comfortable again. Just as she finished, a petit woman in white called her name.
Verity eased herself from the chair, ‘I’ll tell Norm I saw you. He doesn’t like cats particularly, so he’ll be on your side.’
Percy had never been able to help his face. An expression that said don’t tell him, he’ll call me was there before he knew it.
Verity’s own expression changed, moving from lightness to one even Percy could easily read. It said, I know, but hurt him and I’ll crush you.
Without having asked why she was at the hospital, Percy watched Verity hobble after the nurse. When she was gone from view he took out his phone, feeling grateful that it was his left and not right hand that was injured. Unable to type on his screen effectively using his thumb, and convinced future generations would evolve a disproportionately large one, Percy propped it on his thigh ready to tap an email to Art with his forefinger. Then he repositioned the device further away, closer to his knee, so he could better see the letters. Regular upset stomach, badly lacerated hand, and now failing eyesight. This, on top of Sal’s departure followed by the discovery of her affair, left him feeling old and spent.
At that moment of reflection, while Percy was inclined to feel sorry for himself, he decided continuous challenge didn’t make the pace of life feel faster; it was not some race through time causi
ng him to feel his age. Quite the opposite; he hated the loss of power, the sense of being caught in the doldrums.
He pictured himself, bare backside straining over the side of a boat, eyes unable to read the compass his hand was unable to hold, and any hope teased from him by the faint shift of air trampled to nothing under the judgmental frown of a passing albatross. In life, calm waters were meant to be a good thing, yet like everything exception ruled. Why couldn’t living be a steady breeze? It would make everything far easier to navigate. Did this albatross have a family, he wondered? Did he fly back each night for dinner with his wife? When he got there, would another bird be slipping out the back way? Perhaps they might have a maid like Mila; some big faced… but what was bigger than an albatross? He sighed. Was this it? Was this what he, Percy Field, had become? A man sitting alone in casualty feeling jealous of a fictional albatross who was yet to discover that his wife was cheating.
With a long sigh, Percy cast thoughts of big white seabirds and their domestic arrangements aside, and instead returned his attention to Art.
Art. You’ll be home by now I guess, though maybe not. The price of a cheap flight, mate. Just wanted to say thanks for coming and I hope you had a good time. I did. I’m in hospital writing this; you’d like it, it’s nice and cool. More soon. Fieldy.
It had been such a treat to have his closest friend stay that Percy had felt very down the moment Art walked away through the sliding glass doors to join the queue for passport control. Percy was exhausted, but would have happily continued the tour had Art been able to remain. In some ways, he’d envied him flying back to different seasons and warm beer, but in others Percy felt sorry that his friend was forced to leave the warmth and clean comfort of Singapore. He supposed this meant he was settled.
As he pondered, a small smile of admiration formed. Art was amazing, pushing through jet lag as if his life depended on it. How did he do it? Percy found drinking a lot and staying out late had become an old pleasure incurring new penalties, and though only a few years older than Percy, Art did not seem to notice. The closest Art had come to shutting down festivities was the night at Orchard Towers, but since it was a feat for anyone in his position to be conscious by that time, it hardly counted.
Art had always been the more hardcore of the two, Percy knew, smiling more widely now as his mind was drawn back in time. He’d been blind drunk when Percy first met him many years before, in a lift at a party in a fancy club Percy had some how ended up in, knowing no one. Art was desperately trying to select a floor by pressing an ornate number three that was softly illuminated above the doors, alongside all the other softly illuminated numbers. He was stretching up and repeatedly tapping it, before eventually he’d turned to Percy. Whose face wore the more puzzled expression, Percy couldn’t know. Percy, not quite so drunk, had helpfully pressed number three on the keypad. After Art’s own number three had lit up brightly and the doors opened, he’d declared it to be the wrong floor and then vomited, managing to hit both the tiled lift floor, the thick carpet outside and the small gap between. It was a rocky start to the best friendship Percy had ever known; better, he now decided, than what he thought he had shared with Sal.