The Islands

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Bradley! Ooh, I’m missing you so much, this is great to hear from you.’

  ‘Miss you too, sweetheart. What’re you up to?’

  ‘At the moment, I’m staying home. Tidying the closets. I painted the bathroom cupboards. Just being a homebody,’ she said with honesty.

  ‘Well, that’s nice. Have you seen Mrs Goodwin, the other girls?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Fourth of July went off very well. I was busy. I was the official photographer.’

  Bradley sounded pleased. Relieved even. ‘Great, that’s good, honey. So, no problems?’

  ‘No. None.’ Catherine recalled the pamphlet she’d read on being a supportive wife and that when contact was made with spouses serving overseas it was best not to elaborate on any trivial domestic issues. Always to be positive and cheerful. ‘How’re things with you? Where are you? When’re you coming back?’

  Bradley gave a small chuckle. ‘We should know the answer to that pretty soon. But things are fine. All going smoothly. I can’t chat for long, there are others wanting the line. Please call or send a note to my folks, let them know you spoke to me and all is well.’

  ‘Sure, will do.’

  ‘Love you, Catherine. Bye for now.’ And he was gone before she had a chance to say another word.

  Catherine knew Lester was itching to go and see what PJ was doing and guessed that he would soon be chasing her, so when the phone rang later that morning she smiled to herself.

  ‘Hi, Lester.’

  ‘It’s not Lester, it’s me. PJ.’

  She took a quick breath. ‘Oh, hi. I was expecting Lester to ring me.’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling. Could you bring him round sometime? I’m a bit too busy to pick him up and he obviously enjoys going out with you.’

  ‘He’s good company. Such an interesting man. I wish I could get him talking more about his life, though,’ said Catherine in a rush. ‘So, what’s your address? Does any time suit?’ She wanted to sound as businesslike as possible so that PJ would know that she was really only interested in Lester’s welfare and nothing more.

  ‘Round the middle of the day. I give lessons most mornings and in the afternoon I like to have a surf.’

  She wrote down the address. ‘How about tomorrow?’

  ‘That’d be fine. Damien wants to see him so he’ll be hanging around.’ He paused briefly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Me? Good.’

  ‘You’re okay? Happy? I’ve thought about you a lot.’

  Catherine felt like shouting at him. Really? Have you now? Well, I haven’t thought about you and what we did at all! But instead she found herself saying, ‘Kauai seems like a bit of a dream.’

  ‘I hope it was a happy one. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ And he was gone.

  She felt confused by his words. She knew that she shouldn’t feel pleased that he had thought about her, but she was, yet at the same time she wanted to put that episode very much behind her.

  When she arrived to collect Lester the next day, he was ready and waiting, impatient to get going.

  He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You look very pretty. Are we going somewhere special?’

  ‘Not really. Just to see PJ. I might leave you with him while I run down to the paper and see Vince.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’m keen to see what PJ’s doing.’

  They drove into the small back streets behind the main tourist strip of Kalakaua Avenue and were suddenly in an old residential area full of small houses with overgrown gardens. One cottage had a thatched roof and all had sheds and garages which were being used to house small businesses or overflowing families. They drove slowly looking for the right number.

  ‘There it is,’ said Lester. ‘Yep, sure is the right place.’

  Several surfboards were propped against the front fence, one was resting in a stand outside. The garage beside the house had its doors open, its inside painted bright blue and filled with surfboards.

  Catherine parked under a golden rain tree and helped Lester out of the car. Inside the garage PJ was wearing headphones and a mask and was wielding a high-whining power plane, pushing it in sweeping strokes along the length of a board. He didn’t hear them approach. Catherine waved her hand to get his attention.

  He turned off the plane and smiled at them. ‘Hey, great to see you. Careful, there’s a lot of rubbish round here. Let’s go outside. I’ll get you a seat.’

  Lester was studying the boards as he came out of the shed with two chairs.

  ‘Where do get your blanks?

  ‘The Clarkes distributor, downtown. I’m shaping a few six sixes as well as some eight and nine footers.’ He glanced at Catherine. ‘Big boards for big waves.’

  ‘I rode a nine-foot-six balsa at Waiemea in the monsters,’ said Lester.

  ‘Are these all for sale?’ asked Catherine, amazed at the variations in the different boards.

  ‘Some. I’m doing some special orders. Those in there are all mine.’

  ‘Why do you need so many?’ she asked, wondering how he could travel around with such an array.

  ‘Different boards for different waves,’ he shrugged.

  ‘It’s a bit like an artist having a lot of different brushes, or a golfer with different clubs,’ explained Lester.

  ‘I’ll leave Lester to watch you work for a bit.’ She glanced around at the boards, wrinkling her nose. ‘What’s that smell?’

  ‘Polyester resin curing,’ said PJ. ‘Aren’t you going to take a look at my boards? They’re coming along well, I have a new idea about using them in big waves.’

  ‘Explain it to Lester, he’s really interested,’ she said.

  ‘And you’re not? Come for another surf. How about a lesson with me?’

  ‘I’m a bit busy. Thanks.’ She looked away from him. ‘See you later, Lester.’

  PJ touched her arm and she was forced to look at him. The intense blueness of his eyes seemed to shoot through her like a ray gun. ‘I’d like to see you again,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll keep bumping into each other,’ she said lightly.

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Can I see you? Come by any evening. I’m always here working at night.’

  ‘I have to go. I have to meet my editor.’ She hurried to the car.

  Catherine drove two blocks back into Waikiki, found a parking spot and treated herself to an ice-cream sundae. Then she poked her head into a couple of beach boutiques and finally drove back to PJ’s.

  Lester was standing with PJ in deep discussion. She watched them before getting out of the car, their heads together, running their hands along one of the boards, stroking the redwood stringers down the middle, fingering the sharp pointed nose then waving their arms to demonstrate the manoeuvres the board would perform in the water.

  She joined them. ‘Are these boards different from what you used to ride, Lester?’

  He grinned. ‘We started with sixteen-foot solid redwood. Then we used hollow boards. And later on we added the fins. I made a few refinements in my time.’

  ‘Lester was a pioneer, a legend in design. And he’s still got good ideas,’ said PJ. ‘I’d love to see some of your old drawings. You still got them?’

  ‘Maybe. And photos. I loaned one of my albums to Catherine.’

  PJ looked at her in surprise. ‘Could I share them? Are you doing a story on Lester?’

  ‘Well, no, not really. I needed some information to go with his portrait I did for the competition.’

  ‘You know, Catherine, this guy is amazing. You could write a book about him.’ PJ turned back to Lester and they continued talking about boards and waves.

  Catherine sat on one of the chairs watching them, half listening. There was a plumeria tree next to the shed and she watched several of its perfect creamy flowers drop to the ground. She wondered if PJ lived in this house, shared it, or just used the shed.

  ‘Hey, I think Lester’s ready to go. Thanks for bringing him by. He’s given me a few ideas, a few hints.’ PJ smiled at her
. ‘Hope to see you soon.’ He helped Lester to the car and Catherine trailed behind them.

  All the way back to his apartment Lester chatted on about board making, how things changed and how some things just went in and out of fashion.

  ‘Be good to watch PJ’s new boards in action,’ he said. ‘Might be weeks or so before the waves are right, I’d say. Have you seen these storming Aussie surfers in action?’

  ‘A little bit. I took some photos of them on Kauai.’

  Lester folded his arms and settled in the seat. ‘Yep. PJ’s onto something with those boards. Reckon the locals will sit up and take notice soon enough.’

  When he was back in his apartment and she was leaving, Lester called, ‘Been a great day. Thanks, Catherine. Don’t forget to show PJ that book of mine. But don’t you leave it with him. Surfers can be a bit too casual sometimes.’

  *

  Kiann’e shook the water from her hair as she and Catherine towelled themselves dry enough to wear their sarongs. ‘My mother spoke with Aunty Lani last night. She said that she enjoyed seeing you on Kauai and we were to be sure and take you around to see some of the old palaces and gardens that the Daughters of Hawaii have restored.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that. Perhaps I could do something for the paper,’ said Catherine.

  ‘I think those places have been written up a lot already. There must be more contemporary things to photograph.’

  ‘I s’pose so. I have to find something interesting for this week’s edition though.’

  ‘Aunty Lani’s having a luau this Saturday, she said for you to come along, bring any friends.’

  ‘Any special reason?’ asked Catherine.

  Kiann’e smiled. ‘Not really. Uncle Henry is going to kill a pig. And he’s got some old musician friend visiting from Las Vegas. They played together in a band years ago. So that’s enough reason.’

  ‘I’d love to come.’

  ‘Do you think we should take Lester along? I bet it’s been ages since he was at a luau,’ said Kiann’e suddenly.

  ‘He’d love it, I’m sure. But you don’t think it’ll be too much for him, do you?’ said Catherine.

  ‘Not if he just stays a short while. Anyway, we could always arrange for someone to take him home early. The pig will go into the imu early in the morning. People will start arriving at midday and we’ll probably pull it out early in the afternoon. The feast will go on for hours, so there’re people coming and going all day.’

  ‘Let’s suggest it to Lester.’

  Catherine had a busy day. She seemed to find a lot of things to do, so it was quite late by the time she drove past the bright lights and the happy hour crowd and turned into the darker, quieter streets where PJ worked. As she parked she saw several people silhouetted against the light spilling from the cluttered workspace. Walking into the garden, carrying Lester’s album, she recognised Damien.

  ‘Hey, Cath! Great to see you, mate. What’re you up to?’ His Aussie accent made Catherine feel warm.

  ‘Bringing Lester’s scrapbook round for PJ to have a browse through. He really wanted me to bring it. But maybe you’re too busy . . .’ She looked at PJ who was grinning broadly.

  ‘A lady of her word. That’s nice to know. We’re just finishing up and then we were going to grab pizzas. Join us and we can all look at the old man’s designs.’

  ‘He was never as well known as the Duke though, was he?’ asked Damien.

  ‘Lester was less flamboyant, kept to himself. After all he was a haole from the mainland. The Duke was up front, out there, ambassador of Hawaii, the father of modern surfing and all that. But Lester was a cool cat who never pushed himself into the limelight,’ said PJ. ‘That how you see it, Catherine?’

  ‘It’s terrific he’s still around. I’d like to spend more time with him,’ said Damien.

  ‘He thinks it’s great that the Bronzed Aussies have come in and stirred up the locals,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Yeah, I nearly got thumped out there today. The buggers kept dropping in on me, just to piss me off. There’ve been a few bad incidents. Tyre slashing, brawls, boards damaged,’ Damien said to PJ.

  PJ turned to Catherine. ‘Locals mostly like the Aussies. You should hear them trying to imitate the Aussie accent – mate, comes out mite – but sometimes it gets a bit deadly. Bit competitive. But hey, don’t get the wrong idea about surfers.’

  ‘Why would I?’ she said lightly and PJ gave her a look.

  ‘Hawaiians love good-hearted people. But you do the wrong thing to them and they don’t forget. They’ll hold it against your brother too. Harm them, harm their family,’ he said. ‘Say, come on inside. Here, brah, go collect the pizzas.’ He handed Damien a few dollars and ushered Catherine inside.

  ‘So you live here?’ She glanced around at the messy house that was filled with surfing posters, body boards, flippers, snorkels, books, magazines, record albums and cushions and a big sofa in the main room. It looked like people were sleeping on makeshift beds all over the house.

  ‘I just crash here when I’m working. People come and go. It’s not as organised as Nirvana.’

  She hadn’t considered that the old beach house on Kauai was organised, but in comparison with this, it did have a lot more peace and charm. She couldn’t understand how people could live like this. But she certainly didn’t want to be reminded of Nirvana. Memories of her time there with PJ made her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Where are your things? Your belongings? You must be a bit of a gypsy,’ she said.

  He started to clear a space on the kitchen table. ‘Ah things. Things tie you down. All my clothes fit in an airline bag. My baggage is my boards. But I sell them if I have to. Except for a few classics. I have a Dick Brewer . . . fantastic boards. I store them when I can’t take them with me.’

  ‘You mean surfboards can become collector’s items?’ asked Catherine incredulously.

  ‘Sure thing. Who knows? Some of those boards in the yard out there might be collectible in twenty years time.’ He laughed.

  ‘Well, I hope you sign them,’ said Catherine.

  Two of the Australian boys travelling with Damien came in and introduced themselves and their girlfriends.

  Catherine enjoyed their earthy Aussie humour, their energy and their enthusiasm for Hawaii.

  ‘Beaut place, bloody beautiful. Great waves,’ was the general consensus.

  ‘We’re going to Tahiti next.’ There followed a discussion of the merits of various boards and surfing spots until Damien arrived with the pizzas.

  ‘Man, I didn’t get enough for you lot,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘That’s okay, we’re all heading out to the Chart House. You want to come, Damo?’

  Damien hesitated. ‘I just got a pizza.’

  ‘Catherine and I can eat it. But we’ll leave you some and you can have it cold later,’ said PJ.

  The three boys left in a flurry of laughter, the pretty, star-struck girls tagging along. Even though they were all around the same age as she was, Catherine suddenly felt very staid and boring.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said.

  ‘What for? We have pizzas. You have to help me eat them.’ PJ put a plate in front of her and opened a pizza box. ‘Or don’t you want to be with me?’

  ‘It smells great.’ She reached for a slice, suddenly realising she was hungry.

  He took a bite and then said, ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I? And I brought you Lester’s notes and drawings.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks,’ he said easily.

  Later Catherine put the leftover pizza in the fridge and cleared the table so PJ could spread out Lester’s album.

  ‘There’re some beers if you’d like one.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll make some coffee while you start looking at those pictures. I did promise Lester I wouldn’t leave them behind. They’re very precious to him.’ She didn’t need to add that with a household of surfers coming and going they could easily get misl
aid.

  ‘Sure. I understand.’ PJ opened a Primo beer and became immersed in the sketches and notes on board designs.

  Catherine washed up and cleaned the kitchen for something to do. She made the coffee and flipped through a surfing magazine. What a strange world it is. How passionate they all are. She’d thought of surfing as simply going for a swim with a board. Now she was beginning to see it was so much more to these young men.

  ‘Is it true that once you start surfing you never stop?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘Pretty much. You work your life around getting in a surf.’

  ‘Not the other way around. Will surfing always come first in your life?’

  ‘It is my life,’ he said, slightly surprised and turned back to Lester’s album.

  Catherine took her coffee into the living room, turned on the TV and settled herself on the big sofa.

  She had no idea how late it was, but PJ was gently rubbing her shoulder.

  ‘Hey, sleepyhead.’

  ‘God, sorry. I fell asleep.’

  ‘You certainly did. That’s the best bed in the house.’

  ‘What time is it?’ She rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Two a.m.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I didn’t want to wake you until I finished going through Lester’s stuff. I want to talk to him about some of his ideas, though.’

  ‘I’d better be going.’

  ‘Will you be okay driving through Waikiki at this hour? Don’t stop till you’re at your apartment,’ said PJ seriously.

  Catherine wasn’t really worried about driving home late at night and the Base was probably the safest place in Hawaii, but she was concerned that someone would see her coming back alone this late at night and wonder what she had been doing. Suddenly going home didn’t appeal to her. ‘Actually, you’re right. I don’t think I want to drive home.’

  ‘So stay here. Go back to sleep, I’ll get you a cover. You want a drink? Water?’

  Catherine slipped off her shoes and curled up, using a cushion as a pillow. PJ dropped a cotton quilt over her and set a glass of water on the floor.