Julie Pierce
Christopher Golde
Chapter twenty
The Reflection 1
Date: 15th June 1996
Location: Singapore
A light breeze lifted the edge of her skirt as she walked; her hand instinctively suppressing its flight so delicately, it was not noticed by her two male companions. She dodged a table and indicated for them to choose where they would like to sit. The water from the river sparkled and the same light breeze that had attempted to embarrass her now offered her respite from the intense humidity of the Singaporean summer.
‘Here,” politely asked one of her male companions?
He was a tall fellow, with a head of thinning brown hair, a rather large nose, and a polite English accent. Both men were from the Stromberg Media Group, the company that owned her newspaper and both were British; not uncommon in Singapore. The other, a smaller, more rotund man, with a head of thick black hair, wearing thick-rimmed spectacles that framed his rounded face, smiled at Julie lecherously, chose a table closest to the water and pulled out a chair offering it to her. Julie politely accepted and seated herself, then stared out over the river through her dark sunglasses, wishing to avoid mundane conversation.
It had been her boss’s idea for her to entertain his guests. They were only staying in Singapore for a couple of days and he suggested they go for lunch at the famous café strip down by the river. Reluctantly, she had agreed. She had other things on her mind lately and small talk with visiting head office personnel was not one of them.
As the two men talked among themselves, the café chatter around her began to fade as her mind drifted out across the water. The hypnotic rippling rhythm of light and shade on its surface, accentuated by her polarised lenses, soon blocked out everything except her deepest thoughts.
On the other side of the busy street, she saw her papa standing talking to another man in uniform.
‘My papa looks so fine in his uniform,’ the little girl thought, as she sat waiting patiently for him to cross the street and get back into their family car.
She just couldn’t wait to get to the church and show off her beautiful dress that her papa had bought for her. Then, best of all, they were going to pick up mummy from the airport.
Julie knew her mummy was from Japan and would fly back there regularly to visit her parents. Even once, she had been able to go as well and that had been just so special. She wished she could go every time, but her papa had told her he needed her at home to look after the house, and that she thought, was probably true. Her daddy was a good soldier, but not very good with the housework, or so she heard her mummy telling him all the time.
“Would you like a drink of something Miss Pierce,” asked the fat man with the spectacles?
“Why yes please,” answered Julie, snapping back to the moment, “a Singapore tea please.”
The fat man turned to the waiter standing at the other side of him.
“Make that three please,” he said, squinting at the waiter who stood directly between him and the sweltering Singaporean sun.
He left and Julie smiled appreciatively to the fat man, who then continued talking about whatever he had been before the waiter had arrived. Julie looked back over the water
Sitting in the church, Julie was awestruck as always by the spectacular high roof of the cathedral-like ceilings and the rows of paintings that lined the walls. The paintings were mostly of an almost naked man being tortured and beaten by men in helmets and robes, but others depicted angels caressing and cuddling the same man, with only a slightly few more clothes on.
She had asked her papa about these in the past and he had said they told a story about the son of God. It seemed to her a funny way to treat the son of God, but then again, on reflection, she had seen people on the TV news behave even worse with people they should respect, so maybe it was normal for adults.
‘Adults were extremely hard to understand,’ she thought to herself. It worried her that maybe one day she would become like that, after all, her mummy often spoke about when she was a little girl and her dad always said she could do things when she grew up. She couldn’t believe she would ever want to hurt someone.
The priest was beginning to speak now and she looked up at her papa who listened intently. She would hear bits and pieces but for the most, she just liked looking at the paintings. She heard the words ‘beast’ and ‘Satan’ mentioned often and for some reason, these seemed to stick in her mind. She didn’t know what they were but she knew they came from ’hell’ and evidently, lots of people went there.
Julie smiled to herself, remembering how she used to think of ‘the devil’ and ‘hell’ when she was a little girl going to church with her father. It was real then, but it was a different reality. It was real then, just like Bugs Bunny and the Road Runner, not like the person sitting next to her, or someone she passed in the street.
Her smile retreated quickly, as she thought about what the Priest had told her. ‘The Priest’, she thought smiling again, this time a wicked smile. Father Aldo Dominique, he was quite an attractive man and she was shocked that she would think of him that way, but it was her little secret, a girl’s secret.
The waiter brought back three long glasses of sweetened ice tea, which he placed in front of them. Julie took a sip, savouring the coolness as it quenched her dry throat. The fat man was still talking and she wondered for a brief moment what he had been saying all this time.
‘Oh well, can’t be that important, the other taller man looks board as well,’ she thought, taking another sip of her tea and smiling sweetly at the fat man as he gesticulated enthusiastically a point he was making.
The little girl walked from the entrance of the church holding her father’s hand tightly and looking up at all the adult faces smiling down at her.
“What a sweet little thing.” She heard from several women with hats on.
At last, they came to the priest who had been talking about the church and her father shook his hand warmly thanking him for a good sermon. The priest bent down to the little girl's face and breathed on her an air that almost seemed sterile. She would always remember that smell; there was something old about it.
“How are you little Miss,” he asked, in an accent strange to her? Did you enjoy church? My, you do look pretty in that dress.”
Julie was not given a chance to answer, it was almost as if she didn’t have to; the priest switched his attention straight back to her papa and asked how his wife was.
Those church days with her father represented in total her life experiences with the priesthood, with only one exception and that was when her Grandmother had passed away. She had been close to her Grandmother. Apart from her mother and father, it was her doting Nana that had looked after her when she was growing up. Julie still missed her. Her Grandmother had been a reasonably well-known author in her time, with several published books that could still be found in the stores. She had introduced Julie to creative writing and since neither her mother nor her father had been artistically inclined, she had always credited her Grandmother for her creative genes.
At her funeral, Julie had sobbed bitterly and she remembered that it was the same sterile smelling priest that had consoled her then. For the rest of her life she had associated priests with three words, depressing, sterile and old, but then along comes Father Aldo Dominique.
“Julie,” she could hear a distant English voice saying, “I say, Julie.”
Startled, Julie turned back from looking out over the water and stared blankly at the short fat man sitting next to her smiling.
“I say, would you like anything to eat,” he asked, continuing to smile?
“Sorry,” apologized Julie, “I was a million miles away.” “Would you like something to eat,” he repeated politely? “Okay, sure let’s eat, the seafood here is fantastic,” she continued, somewhat overacting. Both men smiled and enthusiastically started making suggestions from the menu. Julie nodded from time to time and smiled, but her mind was still on the priest. Deep down she knew it could even be a bit more than just her mind, but the thought of that was a bit scary. Equally scary now, was how the myth was fast becoming reality. Her logical mind was struggling with her creative senses and her heart was struggling to come to terms with her instincts.
If ever she had needed her Grandmothers advice, it was now.