The Islands

by Di Morrissey

  But when they arrived at Kiann’e’s aunty’s house, Catherine saw she needn’t have worried about being so punctual.

  The house was opposite a strip of parkland and a beach. The lawns were littered with palm fronds from the large coconut palms shading the house, which was a rambling old home surrounded by a wide terrace. The yard was crowded with cars, a playhouse and garden furniture, a couple of hammocks were strung between the trees. A faded striped awning sagged over the front windows. It was a house that looked as if it had been well lived in for many years. Two small children were playing in the front and when they recognised Kiann’e’s little red pick-up they raced over shouting her name.

  A tall stately woman came out of the house, calling to the children. Although her figure was more than ample, she walked with a straight-backed, regal carriage and was smiling broadly. Her dark hair was shot with silver and twisted into a braid on top of her head and a flower was tucked into the side. Bare brown feet poked from beneath her muu-muu.

  ‘Aloha, girls. Come on, Keiki, here’s Kiann’e and her friend.’

  The little boy and girl ran to Kiann’e, wrapping their arms around her knees, while glancing shyly at Catherine.

  ‘This is Catherine. Give her a hug too,’ said Kiann’e. ‘These are my cousin’s children. One of my cousins. We’re a big family. Aunty looks after them while their parents work. And those two,’ she pointed at two older girls hanging by the front door, ‘they’re neighbours who are living here for a while . . . been a few problems in their family, so Aunty is caring for them.

  ‘Catherine, this is my aunt, Keialani Pakula – everyone calls her Lani.’

  Kiann’e’s aunt opened her arms and swept Catherine into a big hug. ‘Welcome to the ohana. Come, come inside. You two, cold drinks, go and pour them.’ She waved at the two older girls who giggled and hurried inside. ‘Kiann’e says you are a new bride and new to the Islands . . . We’d better show you some old-fashioned Hawaiian hospitality, then.’

  ‘Everyone is being wonderful. I hope we haven’t sprung this visit on you. It looks like you have your hands full.’

  ‘Nonsense. Many hands make light work. A cold juice and a walk around the garden before we eat.’

  ‘I’ve brought things you wanted, Aunty. I’ll unpack them,’ said Kiann’e carrying a brown paper supermarket bag inside.

  Lani took Catherine’s hand and, trailed by a small boy, they walked through the house to the back porch where a large brick barbecue was smouldering. There was a long table with mismatched chairs under an old thatched roof as well as an unpainted shed that was crammed with canoes, surfboards, a lawn mower, storage boxes and tools. A fish pond with water lilies and a small pit covered with wire mesh surrounded by burnt grass completed the picture.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘That’s our imu. Nothing fancy, just an underground oven, for luaus and any time we want to cook for a big group. You had lomi pig yet?’

  ‘We had roast pig on a spit at the Palm Grove.’

  ‘Not the same as in the underground oven. We’ll have a luau one of these days. You bring your husband.’

  ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘Doesn’t have to be a special occasion, we just get people together, get the pig, or a goat, cook it all day and in the night we eat and sing and dance. You sing, play ukulele or do hula?’

  ‘Oh, gosh no. I just love watching Kiann’e dance.’

  ‘Everyone can learn hula. We teach ’em from babies. Little boys too. You show Catherine how you can dance, yes, Otis?’

  The little boy nodded seriously. ‘And the mele, Lani?’

  ‘For sure. You know ’bout that, Catherine? The important things to learn? Oli, the old chants, mele, the songs, mo’oleho, storytelling, and hula, the dance. That’s how we pass on our culture, from ancient times.’

  ‘The Aborigines back home do this sort of thing too. I’m looking forward to seeing it. Not like the shows done for the tourists, I suppose.’

  ‘The essence is there. Kiann’e dances some of the old hulas but the tourists they want the happa haole stuff, what they see in the movies, hear on the records. But that’s okay, many of the old songs and dances are sacred, some that have been handed down are secret.’

  ‘Has the hula always been just entertainment? How did it start?’ asked Catherine who was beginning to realise there was more to the dance than the swaying dusky maidens in grass skirts depicted in old movies and on postcards.

  ‘How it began is lost in the mists of old Hawai‘i . . . maybe because it was a form of worship of the Gods and homage to the ali’i, the old ruling chiefs, it could have come from a spiritual base. But it’s always been used to greet visitors, entertain on special occasions. But the way it was taught in the old days was very strict, very kapu, taboo.’

  ‘I heard that the missionaries banned the hula,’ said Catherine.

  Lani chuckled as they walked around a bank of hibiscus bushes. ‘They found it too sensual, depraved even. So, yep, they banned hula and put the women in long dresses.’ She lifted the hem of her cotton, ankle length muu-muu. ‘However that tradition has stuck. Most comfortable dress invented.’

  By the time they had circled the house, there were several men standing around the barbecue where hamburgers were sizzling. Kiann’e and the older girls were setting the table under the thatched pergola and another woman came from the kitchen carrying a large bowl.

  ‘Heavens, it’s a party!’ exclaimed Catherine.

  ‘No, just some friends come by. Arnold Lapoka and Bill Opooku been helping me fix up the roof. That’s Bill’s wife, she helps me with the keikis, like little Otis here. I never know how many heads we have around a table or how many beds I got to find come night time,’ chuckled Lani.

  Catherine was introduced to the friendly, casual group. Salads were prepared, yams wrapped and tied in banana skins had been baked and Bill expertly slashed the tops off a bunch of green coconuts which were then handed around with straws poked in them.

  ‘Hawaiian milkshake,’ said Kiann’e. ‘And after you finish the juice you scoop out the soft flesh, it’s delicious.’

  It was a very informal meal with lots of passing of dishes, chatter and laughter. The children climbed on laps, were hugged and kissed and teased, then given small tasks to do to help clean up. The men leaned back in their chairs. Arnold pulled a small harmonica from his pocket and Otis ran to bring Bill his ukulele. Suddenly everyone was singing.

  Catherine didn’t understand the Hawaiian words, but the sense of fun was contagious. The children were eventually lined up and, with the two older girls on each end, they sang and danced an old fishing song, mimicking paddling the canoe, throwing out the nets and pulling in the humuhumunukunukuapua‘a.

  ‘It’s one little fish with da big name,’ Otis told her.

  Later the women and children walked across to the beach to watch the children swim.

  ‘This is heavenly,’ sighed Catherine. ‘Is this all traditional land?’

  ‘No,’ replied Kiann’e, ‘it belongs to Aunty’s husband’s family. They came to Hawaii as indentured labourers to work on the plantations and were given this land for their houses. Back then beachfront land was worthless. Now, of course, it’s very valuable. Developers want it for hotels and expensive houses, but Aunty would never leave it. Too nice. I think we should start to drive back, don’t you?’

  Catherine was shocked by how quickly the day had sped by. She hadn’t even thought about preparing dinner.

  ‘We’ll stop at Cheekys, they do a great saimin noodle salad and some pork satay. All you have to do is cook a bit of rice.’

  ‘Sounds great. And easy. Kiann’e, I can’t thank you enough. It’s been a wonderful day. It was fun and I learnt so much. And your Aunty Lani is terrific. Amazing.’

  Bradley was surprised by the meal and complimentary. ‘Delicious. But tell me, you didn’t make all this from scratch?’

  ‘No. I have to confess, Kiann’e took
me to one of her favourite hole-in-the-wall eateries.’

  ‘That’s fine for us – on occasion. Buying ready-made food is expensive. But when we entertain, you must do it yourself.’

  ‘I’m working on it,’ she assured him, thinking of the lunch she’d enjoyed at Aunty Lani’s house. Perhaps she might be willing to teach her how to make some of the delicious food they’d had. But on second thoughts it probably wouldn’t be the kind of meal Bradley expected her to serve. She was dreading the idea of entertaining at all.

  ‘When we go home for Thanksgiving, you’ll see the sort of thing my mother prepares. Perhaps she can give you some ideas,’ suggested Bradley.

  Bradley’s parents were waiting at the airport, scooped them up and headed homewards in their comfortable older model Cadillac. Sights were pointed out to her, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge, and Catherine remarked how the bay reminded her of Sydney Harbour.

  Sun filtered through the fog and the skyscrapers glinted in the late afternoon light, then as the freeway cut through Marin County, Catherine thought how barren the countryside looked – brown hills and so few trees. They passed tracts of large homes and shopping malls clustered in muted-toned blocks like a child’s building set.

  As if reading her thoughts, Bradley said, ‘It’s winter. Always looks a bit dry. Soon we’ll see the peaks of the Sierras. Should have snow on them.’

  ‘Do you like skiing, Catherine?’ asked Angela. ‘If we have time we could drive up to Tahoe. Why don’t we do that, Richard? The Roses told us we could use their house at Thunderhead any time while they’re in Europe.’

  ‘Mother, I’m not sure we’ll have time. I want to show Catherine San Francisco. And I’m sure you have friends we have to see.’

  ‘Now, Bradley, don’t be like that. Of course, our friends all want to meet Catherine. We thought a little party . . .’ And as Bradley groaned, she smiled at Catherine. ‘Get it all over and done with in one go. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Catherine unsurely. ‘Whatever you’ve planned is fine by me,’ she added politely.

  ‘There, you see, Bradley. Catherine’s fine with a little reception.’

  The Connors’ home was in a quiet cul-de-sac in Deauville where the houses were similar in style, neatness and decoration. They all seemed to be ranch-style houses – elongated with French windows looking out onto unfenced lawns to the kerb. They all had circular driveways, neat shrubbery and trees and elaborate mail boxes sprouting the stars and stripes. The Connors’ house was tastefully furnished with plush cream carpet, pale-blue velvet sofas, gilt mirrors and a polished wooden antique-style dining setting. Catherine and Bradley were shown to their room, which was filled with photos of Bradley and his siblings, stuffed toys and a large handmade patchwork quilt.

  ‘What a cute little boy you were!’ said Catherine looking at the toddler posing with a teddy bear. ‘And here’s the bear rug shot!’ She laughed at the naked baby lying on a fur rug.

  ‘I think we visited the photographer every year until we were old enough to object,’ he answered. ‘Don’t let Mom go through the childhood picture albums – it will take hours.’

  They joined Richard and Angela in the family room, a large comfortable room with an elaborate bar, a big TV, easy chairs and a long sofa with a generous coffee table. The walls were lined with photos: a group family portrait, family graduation photos and Christmas snaps.

  ‘What’s your pleasure, Catherine?’ asked Richard from behind his bar.

  ‘A glass of white wine, thanks.’

  ‘Napa Valley’s finest coming up. And you, son? The usual? Tom Collins?’

  ‘That’s fine, thank you.’

  Angela carried in a platter with dips, cheese, crackers and olives. ‘Hot hors d’oeuvres on the way. Your favourites, Bradley.’

  ‘Your mother’s been cooking up a storm for a week,’ commented Richard. ‘She’s doing the entire catering for this party.’

  ‘That’s a lot of work,’ said Catherine, hoping Bradley didn’t expect her to do this sort of thing.

  ‘Not really, I just make things and put them in the freezer. You know, little vol-au-vent, rolls, savoury things that can be heated up in a flash. A couple of big casseroles to eat with salad. Richard has ordered a whole wheel of cheese. It’ll just be cocktails and a buffet. After all, Thanksgiving is only a couple of days away.’

  The Connors’ little cocktail party was rather overwhelming for Catherine. So many people to meet, names to remember, so many questions, so many compliments, so much food and drink. Sixty guests filled the sitting and family rooms and some stood outside on the patio, even though it was a cold evening. Catherine held onto Bradley’s hand as they went from group to group, overhearing comments.

  ‘Didn’t you just know he’d marry someone like that!’

  ‘She’s just darling.’

  ‘I love that accent.’

  ‘Congratulations, Bradley, join the navy and see the world, huh? Well, you brought back a little champ.’

  ‘Are you excited to be in America, Catherine?’

  Earlier she’d helped Angela put the extension in the dining room table and set out the good china, linen and silverware, paying attention to how Angela laid the cutlery in a carefully arranged fan shape next to the pile of plates at one end of the table. The crystal wine glasses and ice bucket to chill the champagne were set on the buffet next to two special champagne glasses that had ribbons and small flowers tied to their stems and ‘Bradley’ and ‘Catherine’ etched onto their rims in an entwined heart.

  Catherine was glad she at least knew Bradley’s brother, Joel, who’d been the best man at the wedding. His sister, Deidre, arrived late, dressed in an expensive lace dress and jacket with a fur collar. She kissed Catherine and handed her a huge bag of gifts.

  ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t be at the wedding. So I’ve brought some wedding gifts and a few goodies I found at Neiman Marcus . . . I couldn’t resist so I asked Bradley your size and what colours you like.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ said Catherine, feeling rather dazed as she pulled out a cashmere sweater.

  ‘Deidre is a shopper,’ said Bradley. ‘I’m sure she and Mother will take you round the stores.’

  ‘There’s a wonderful white sale coming up and there’s always a pre-Christmas special sale after Thanksgiving. You’ll love it,’ said Deidre.

  ‘I don’t know that I need anything,’ said Catherine, worried about Bradley’s budget and wondering why Deidre had bought her a winter top that she would never use in Hawaii.

  ‘Need? Who said anything about needing things?’ laughed Deidre.

  ‘These girls send me bankrupt saving money at the sales,’ said Richard, putting his arms around his daughter and his wife.

  ‘I know Bradley hates shopping, so you come with us,’ said Angela. ‘Now let’s serve the food.’

  Richard made a toast and Angela announced supper was served.

  Everybody gushed effusively about the food, told Bradley once again what a lucky man he was, extended invitations to them both to ‘Call around for a drink before going back to the Islands’ and commented on Catherine being such a darling gal, and when were they moving to California?

  The whole trip was go-go, as Bradley described it. Shopping, meals at the Connors’ club at the golf course, cocktails, shopping and shopping. Bradley had given Catherine some spending money. Angela and Deidre cruised every floor of every department store, went into every little store they found cute and checked out any new place to shop even when they had no intention of buying anything. Catherine didn’t see the point. She found it tiring and boring after she’d toured just one smart store, trying on outfits Angela and Deidre insisted would be perfect for her.

  Nevertheless, a small alarm did go off when Deidre asked if she had a nice outfit to wear for Thanksgiving, as Angela pointed out, ‘We do dress for the occasion.’

  Back at the house she asked Bradley how formal was Thanksgiving
to be and he shrugged. ‘Dad and I wear a tie and jacket, mother and Deidre wear something dressy – like they did for the party.’

  ‘But that was a cocktail reception. People were very formal – lace, silk, jewels, bare backs, low fronts, glittery high heels . . . I thought this was supposed to be a family dinner. A time to give thanks.’ She was thinking of her simple Hawaiian long dresses that could be quite formal in Hawaii but here, in the cold weather, where people came in furs and sequined tops, floral cotton didn’t quite measure up.

  ‘Didn’t you buy something? That’s what the shopping was all about, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No! I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for something fancy when it’s just the family.’

  ‘It’s not just family. Mother always asks along a loner or two. You can’t have Thanksgiving on your own. And of course Aunt Meredith is coming. Mother’s sister from Portland.’

  ‘That’s not helpful, Bradley. I’m feeling dreadfully out of place here. Why didn’t you tell me this was such a big deal? I thought that one of my Hawaiian dresses would be fine, and you’re telling me it won’t. Is it the same for Christmas?’

  ‘Mother does go to town at Christmas when there are kids around but you know, Catherine, Christmas isn’t celebrated everywhere here for religious reasons, so Thanksgiving is the annual event. The turkey, trimmings, the full schmeer.’

  ‘I suppose it’s the cold weather that makes it so formal.’ She thought about their relaxed Christmases at Heatherbrae. ‘At home it’s hard to be formal when it’s the middle of summer and it’s boiling hot and all you want to do is lie in the pool.’ Nevertheless, even though she found it bitterly cold outside, the inside of the Connors’ home was excruciatingly hot. A fake fire flickered in the gas ornamental fireplace and the central heating roared, so everyone left their heavy outer-garments at the door and wandered around in lightweight party clothes.

  ‘It’s also the fact this is a special occasion,’ said Bradley. ‘Meredith is coming all the way to be here to meet you.’