Gilding The Lily

Percy Holloway always looked forward to spring time. It was the highlight of his year for his hobby. He had got first prize in the flower show again last year, in spite of the intense competition.
Percy was well known for the colours of his exhibits, and everyone wondered at the varieties he achieved. The jet black rose of last year had caused a sensation. He caught Fred Perkins trying to snip off a piece, but instead of being angry had presented him with a cutting.
Percy knew that Fred would have no success because Percy was a cheat. Percy did not see himself as one; He was just a little bit more devious than the rest. He had seen his fellow competitors perform a number of nefarious deeds, and some said the sales in the florists would double in the days before the show, for example. He knew all about Fred, and his ways. He had spotted the movement of the upstairs curtains in Fred's house, and had caught a glimpse of him sitting there with a powerful pair of binoculars. Percy had spent the day preparing a special compost, knowing he was being watched. All Fred had managed to get that year was a measly 4^th prize. Our Percy was infinitely more cunning than that!

Percy had never forgotten his school days. Of particular fascination had been how they could take an ordinary flower, add a little dye to the water, and transform the bloom to something nature did not intend it to be. Later on he had gone to university and studied biochemistry. A Civil Service post had followed, supposedly doing work on plants that would resist radioactivity. In reality Percy had carried his own experiments for his own satisfaction.
It became so easy. A little pinch of this chemical, a little dash of that one, and let nature do the rest. Yes, true, the results were a little erratic, but it was usually possible to produce something different each year. He would spend hours in the potting shed each day, often forgetting his meals, until Gwen would come and remind him.
This year was going to be particularly memorable. One of his experiments had produced some startling results. The plant had remained sick and weak all summer and developed no flowers. He had eventually thrown it onto the rubbish heap. It was Gwen who noticed it growing, after it had survived the winter unattended.
“You know, there's something awfully peculiar about this,” she said. “You had better take a look.”
As they bent over the plant, it was obvious that something strange had occurred. The colour, texture, and tone of the new leaves could not fail to inspire curiosity. Instead of being green they had acquired an odd metallic red sheen, and the stronger the plant had become, the more it gained the appearance of polished copper. This was uncanny. It was not a mere resemblance to the metal, but a convincing substitute for it.. Once the plant had flowered Percy realised what he had done. If any one else had seen it, apart from himself and Gwen, then they would have described it as unreal. Choosing the appropriate moment he transferred it to the shed. By golly, he had really done something this time !
“This will knock 'em dead in the next show,” he told Gwen.
Over the next few months he tended the plant carefully. He did not dare let a word get out about, and so he set up lamps in the shed. Fred was watching of course, and when they spoke, tried to discover what was going on.
“Wait and see, “ was the only answer given.

When he saw Fred peering through a knothole into the shed one morning Percy moved the cupboard and stuck a photo of surgically enhanced Silvia Lamb onto the back of it. Maybe this was why Fred came back a few more times, and he smiled to himself about it. As the day of the show approached he became more excited about the sensation he would cause.
He always left the arrangements to Gwen.... she knew about that sort of thing. She would choose the right vase and attend to the arrangement herself. It would be easy for her this year with only a single bloom to display, and so as usual he let her do it.

He was careful not to go to the show early. He liked to arrive after the judging and then he would be able to bask in the glory for a shorter and more intense period. With a carefully calculated casual look on his face, he strolled into the marquee. He could see Fred among the chattering crowd and so he walked nonchalantly over to him.
“What , no exhibit this year Percy? That's not like you. “
Unable to grasp what Fred meant he looked across at the displays. With horror he realised there was no sign of his precious bloom. No vase with its gleaming treasure among the other flowers.
“Wondered what you were doing with all them lights an' stuff,” Fred continued blandly, “thought it was a big year for you again.”
Unable to speak, Percy thrust his way through the throng and frantically searched among the flowers for his prize exhibit. There was no sign of it. Instead of glory, all he was nothing. No congratulations, no self satisfaction, nothing. Triumph had become despair.
He found Gwen with the ladies at the cake stand.
“What happened? Didn't you bring it. It's gone, what ever....” The questions came flooding out in a jumble.
“Of course I did.” She replied. “To the secretary, yesterday, of course.”
He knew there was some mishap. Gwen would not have let him down. She looked at him, knowing she had to calm him down.
“Go and find it, it must be somewhere, it must be a mistake.”
He broke away and almost ran out of the tent, and began scouring the show ground for his exhibit.
He would never have gone there normally, to the handicraft section, but it was there he found his flower. It was there among the prize winners. He picked the card up to read the judges comment.
“5th Prize. Although impressed with the workmanship, the judges feel it displays no individuality or artistic sensitivity, and is more of a facsimile of the real bloom.”

This story of mine was first published in "The Astonished Hill". new rural writing Ross-on-Wye. Red Earth Books. 1998. ISBN 0-9532535-0-3 :