At the recall of his regular plunges into the slight surf Michael mopped the back of his neck with his handkerchief. He hadn’t sweated since he left.
A young waiter was smiling and listening, waiting for the break in the conversation to hand out the menus. Michael gave him a bottle of sauvignon blanc to open while they chose from the usual offerings.
‘No fish for me,’ said Michael, ‘because I want to remember the wonderful stuff I caught and cooked almost every day. A German bloke offered me some of his gear and advice and it was spot on. Can’t remember the name of the fish - it had a Maori name.’
‘Kawahai?’ suggested Robert.
‘I think that’s the one. I was able to give some of it away.’
Robert said he was starting to feel homesick and he reminded Michael about the idea that he and Dinah move to Queensland. The relatives had been full of the opportunities to set up business in the tourism industry. Michael was less enthusiastic.
‘They’re a mixed blessing - tourists. I hope the spot I’ve just visited is never spoilt by busloads of shutter-clickers. Next come the developers eyeing the coast as real estate.’
Robert agreed, saying that in his opinion so-called environmental tourism was a contradiction in terms. The preservation of habitat was the number one priority and anything which threatened that had to be controlled. The genial waiter appeared with large plates with colourful salads taking up much of the surface.
They poured the wine into tumblers and raised them to toast the future. As she negotiated her fork around her plate Dinah said that she would be bored to death in some backwater because she was a city girl at heart.
‘Rob and I wouldn’t last five minutes if I couldn’t shop and enjoy good coffee. Living here is hard enough at times and my sister reminded me of that.’
‘It’s quite different for me,’ said Michael. ‘I’ve discovered that nature is all important - as long as I have access to books. And that’s a problem I admit.’
‘You two should go and join a monastery.’ Dinah was beginning to sound exasperated.
Robert chipped in. ‘Steady on old girl - I didn’t say anything about celibacy, did I?’
Michael held the wine up to the light. ‘Not a bad drop, wouldn’t you say?’ There was a mumbled agreement as the other two picked up their glasses.
‘Monks always have a plentiful supply of this stuff so that wouldn’t be a problem.’
Dinah smiled and put her hand on Robert’s who cast a glazed glance in her direction.
Was she trying to tell him something?
Chapter 44
Christmas came and went without the hoop-la that the expats were used to and Peter said it had been a welcome change. He had been unable to get a seat on a plane and remarked to Min that there would probably be plenty of other more familiar settings - even the white variety perhaps. ’The fia fia at the hotel had been a lively affair and to his surprise he saw Fono in the entertainment squad. He had sought him out before going to Michael’s house and he asked him if he was staying overnight. This being so, he arranged to meet him the following morning before Fono returned to his village.
Nothing was said during the evening at Michael’s although Min had an idea that Peter was on tenterhooks. Their relationship had developed over the weeks to the point where each one was very sensitive to the other’s mood.
Peter drove to the hotel with the intention of taking Fono for a drive to a place he could choose, but as it happened the offer was turned down. So they sat under the verandah outside the bar and while Peter drank beer his young friend was content with fruit juice. Away from his own territory and surrounded by post-Christmas revellers the young man seemed shy. He was interested in Peter’s life at home and asked him if he had a family. When he heard that Peter lived alone his face broke into a smile for the first time.
‘Is it your wife here in our country?’
‘She is not my wife.’
‘She’s your girlfriend then?’ Peter leaned back in his chair and stretched out one of his legs wondering how he would explain his relationship with Min. He looked up from studying his beer and said ‘I’m gay.’ Fono giggled at this revelation but said nothing. Peter could feel the conversation going astray and temporised by offering another drink and something to eat.
They sat in silence for a while picking at the pretzels which Peter found soft and unappetising, until Fono asked if he could get a job in New Zealand. Feeling frustrated Peter made discouraging remarks about the job market and tried to explain why. His talk of privatisation and its effect on the workforce generally and on unskilled jobs in particular was obviously a foreign language and Peter found himself feeling a certain vindictive satisfaction which he later regretted.
Peter had noticed the waiters looking surreptitiously in their direction from time to time and he tried to figure out what they would be thinking. He was pretty sure that they were a more sophisticated breed than his friend and he began to feel awkward. Which of them had been more naïve? he thought ruefully. They had both misunderstood the other’s motives so they had talked past each other.
Fono started cracking his knuckles.
‘My idea is not good,’ he laughed nervously looking at his very large hands. Peter was immediately mollified and told him that one day the job market would improve and he could consider emigrating.
‘You have such a beautiful village right near the sea - why do you want to leave to go and work in a factory?’
‘We have no telephone or electricity. We go to bed early every night. I have no money.’
That was the dilemma. Dissatisfaction with one’s lot. Greener grass on the other side of the fence. But Peter was sure that leaving home at this point would end in tears.
When they shook hands to say goodbye, Fono glanced briefly at Peter with a small jerk of his head and Peter felt another stab of attraction. He was such a beautiful young man.
He wrote his address on one of the table menus and took some notes out of his wallet. As he handed them to Fono he said to himself in a wave of self-justification, ‘I’ve done the right thing even if it was for the wrong reasons and all’s for the best in the best of all possible worlds.’
Min was taking a siesta when he arrived back at the house so he decided to go to the seafront and hire some snorkelling gear. A visit to the undersea world would distract him from the morning’s exercise. It was almost unbearably hot and sticky and escape from that discomfort was essential. Min was a reluctant diver so she would not complain when he told her where he had been. On the other hand, she would be curious about his morning’s absence and he was unsure as to what he should tell her.
There was no one in the hiring booth and Peter was miffed. He had noticed over the weeks of his stay that it was better not to have great expectations that what is supposed to happen, would happen. Min told him however that the corollary of that was a mysterious accomplishing of tasks with a minimum overt display of activity. So far she had been unable to divine the mystery at the heart of things but had learned to exercise patience when things did not get done when, and in the way that she wanted.
It was too hot to sit in the car to see if anybody turned up to open the hiring booth and the coral in this area was razor sharp and lethal so Peter decided to drive to the surf beach and submit himself to the brutal wave power which he missed during the gentle immersions in the lagoon. He remembered that Polly had also ventured into the surf at this spot for the same reason and was issued with a warning by a rogue wave. He felt like taking a risk after the strange morning and the long lazy days he had spent over the past two months. It was time to get the adrenalin pumping.
There was no one in sight and he sat on the sand watching the water churning and thrashing - a law unto itself and for itself - to the point that he was mesmerized by it. He was watching the ocean’s ambassadors arriving and retreating and performing the task of connecting the land masses of the planet endlessly, tirelessly, until the dissolution
of the world. He started to feel drowsy and lay down on the sand lazily clawing its glistening grains with his fingers.
Against the roar of the sea he thought he heard voices so he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The sun’s glare was still blinding even though the afternoon was quite advanced. Just as he decided that he was still alone, he saw two heads appear above the rocks nearby. Then he heard his name and he saw Polly approaching through the glare with somebody following a few steps behind.
Chapter 45
When Eturasi returned from New Zealand he was keen to know how the language classes had gone so he called on Polly one afternoon on his way home from his first day back at the newspaper office. Jim had just returned too and was looking stooped and tired. Polly on the other hand, looked very healthy and even more attractive he thought. His first question was a tentative enquiry after Jim’s mother and he was relieved to know that she was still alive but had undergone treatment which Jim said had taken its toll on her. On Jim too, thought Eturasi.
‘She would have been in good hands no doubt,’ said Eturasi who had a positive notion of western medicine especially in the United States.
‘My mother has never had much faith in the medical system,’ explained Jim wearily, ‘and she finds it hard to communicate with the doctors. It was complicated by having to deal with several of them too. And how are your folks in Noo Zealand?’
‘They’re well on the whole,’ he said, ‘but the job situation at the moment is worrying - thanks to an economic upheaval which is cutting jobs right left and centre. It’s hard on our people who are usually employed in things like the car assembly industry which is looking shaky.’
He went on to say that unskilled foreign workers were received with open arms when they were needed but they were looking expendable now. He sounded bitter and said he thought many of the migrants would be better off coming home.
Polly was sitting absorbed in the conversation but she suddenly realised that she had not offered Eturasi anything to drink.
‘Jim has brought back some very nice coffee.’
Eturasi smiled and said he’d got used to good coffee in the various cafés which had sprouted up in Auckland since his last visit ten years’ ago. He added that the local markets were selling much more ethnic food than earlier too.
He finally got around to asking about the language study.
‘I wondered if you’d like me to take over from Jupeli now that I’m back and not going anywhere as far as I know.’
‘It’s been great,’ Polly sounded flustered. She had got used to Jupeli’s style and wanted to continue with him. But how was she to put the idea tactfully?
‘We’re delving into a small project,’ she lied, ‘so perhaps I should see it through with Jupeli.’
‘Oh - what’s the project?’ Polly’s fib caused her to detect a note of scepticism. Wasn’t it always like this? You try to spare someone’s feelings and end up getting into real strife. She gave her coffee a stir and took a sip her mind racing.
‘Jupeli is showing me a Polynesian view of the heavens - it’s incredibly interesting.’
‘I had no idea that he was particularly clued up in that department.’
‘He’s become fascinated since I asked him the names of the constellations.’ She was on the verge of being lyrical and made Eturasi smile.
‘Polynesians were great navigators weren’t they?’ offered Jim who had been convinced by Polly’s quick thinking.
Eturasi confirmed this point and described how the Maori had navigated over several latitudes across the vast Pacific as far as New Zealand, using the stars and currents as guides.
Polly in the meantime was deliberating how she would let Jupeli know about their project. She asked Eturasi casually if he had seen Jupeli yet.
‘He’s coming around tomorrow after the market delivery I think.’
The next afternoon Polly cycled off in the baking heat to the market and found herself a plastic chair where she had a view of the comings and goings of pickups. She bought a glass of the garish green lime drink and sipped contemplatively and very slowly. A mixture of cooking smells wafted around her and she began to feel squeamish. Her face began to perspire so she went to one of the near stalls to buy a fan. Jupeli saw her there and asked her what she was doing and her explanation made him laugh loudly because he had already heard about the project from Eturasi and worked out what was going on.
‘I guessed that you wanted to continue the lessons with me! I’m hot stuff, ha!ha!’
This was the last straw. ‘You’re devious,’ she said through clamped teeth.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Never mind. I need to get home - I’m feeling unwell.’
He put her bicycle into the back of the pickup and drove her home. He was less ebullient than at first and Polly felt guilty. She had set this whole scenario up and had only herself to blame. However she couldn’t help feeling frustrated by the poor communication that was obvious between her and Jupeli. He was flattered by the knowledge that Polly had chosen him over his brother and apparently insensitive to the complications which ensued. She was almost sure that it would be impossible to convey the vexation which she was feeling. Would it be any different with Jim? She couldn’t answer that but she was almost certain that Min would understand how she felt.
The first thing she needed was a cool glass of boiled water to dilute the saccharine green liquid she had subjected her body to. Her mind was in turmoil and she lay down on the bed to gather her wits. She would tell Min the whole story because she was a good listener who gave her full attention to a situation. In Polly’s experience few people listened with the empathy required to help the speaker to clarify their own thoughts. Rather, these interlocutors bided their time preparing to launch into an experience of their own - not to illustrate their understanding but to parade their own obsessions. Min was not like that, and Polly wondered all of a sudden why. And the corollary of being a good listener in her opinion was discretion.
Chapter 46
Things had moved quickly for Yushi and wedding preparations were under way in Fanua’s village. It was going to be a lively affair and Yushi sometimes felt incidental to its momentum. Whenever he went to the village these days the talk was about dresses, food, church decorations and speeches. Although he had not been to a wedding in his home country the image of a traditional Japanese wedding was clear in his mind: heavy robes, white makeup and a semblance of puppetry. He found himself wishing they could dispense with all the trappings and the more he thought about them the more he felt alienated. He was even having doubts about marriage itself.
He had seen very little of Min during the rainy season while she had been on holiday and entertaining her visitor. So one afternoon after Peter had left he scooted over to her house with the intention of talking to her about the shape of things and as it turned out, about his misgivings.
His mercurial engagement with life interested her and did make her wonder about his seriousness in regard to getting married. His infatuation with Fanua had a touch of the adolescent about it but it was not Min’s business to play the duenna - if that was the right word. (She thought with distaste of those self-appointed moral arbiters dotted among her mother’s friends who proclaimed their certainties ex cathedra.)
It was difficult for Yushi to be oblique in his revelations and yet he was not able to be direct either. She watched him fiddle with his keys and glance at her occasionally. When he tried to describe the flurry in the village he shook his head slowly and sucked in his teeth. She was not sure how to interpret this mannerism so she trusted her instinct and asked him directly if he really wanted to get married. Her question nearly undid him and he shifted on the chair and laughed uneasily.
‘Of course,’ he said, still looking intently at his keys and Min realised that her blatant question had aroused a defensive reaction which effectively closed off the subject.
‘Do you want to start our classes together again?�
�
He looked up directly at her and said an emphatic “Yes.” His demeanour changed with the change of subject and they talked about concentrating on writing with grammar lessons arising from it. She was on the verge of asking if he wanted to learn the local language but thought better of it. Teachers were scarce anyway and it was not her concern. Instead she risked a return to the subject of the wedding and asked if his family would be coming from Japan.
‘Perhaps sister - but it is hard for her to take holidays.’
‘Look Yushi - if she can come, she would be very welcome to stay with me.’
This idea might smooth over her possible gaffe. He smiled for the first time and bowed in his chair. That would be very good because his sister would be nervous about travelling to an unknown country and he had already told her about his English teacher.
‘My sister has studied English at school but not speak. Could be problem.’
‘And I can’t speak Japanese and haven’t studied it at school either,’ Min put on an apologetic face. ‘English speakers just expect other people to speak their language I’m afraid.’
When Yushi had left Min sat for a while thinking about his apparent doubts. As far as she could surmise he and Fanua had not slept together, probably more from lack of opportunity than from moral constraints on his part. Perhaps his problem could be simplified if a preconnubial chamber could be arranged before the point of no return was reached.
‘Oh stop conniving,’ she told herself. ‘Stick to your English knitting!’
She went to her worktable to start on her course outline for the first half of the year. The first year had gone very quickly and when she thought back to the same time a year ago she cringed and gave thanks - to whom, she did not know. This year she would keep a diary…
A knock on the door surprised her. When she saw Polly she was elated. Sometimes the right person appears at just the right time she told her as they hugged briefly.
‘You look incredibly hale and hearty I must say,’ said Min excitedly.
‘You’re not the first person to tell me that - so it must be true.’ Min asked about Jim and was surprised to hear that he was back.
Another Throw of The Dice Page 15
