The Islands

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Enjoy Hawaii, we could end up in a lot worse places.’

  ‘I know that. I truly love Hawaii. I feel a great attachment to the Islands already. Especially after the rally.’

  ‘What rally?’

  ‘Oh. When I was downtown taking photos . . . I saw a bit of a rally with a lot of Hawaiian people.’ She stumbled over her words, cursing her slip.

  ‘That Hawaiian land thing? Did you know some of the protesters? Was Kiann’e there?’

  Catherine nodded meekly.

  ‘I’m surprised at Kiann’e’s being so . . . radical. She is different from the girl who dances at the Moonflower. So what happened?’

  ‘You knew about the rally?’

  ‘It was discussed in the office. Apparently there was criticism of the military. So where were you?’

  ‘Taking photos of the Iolani Palace and downtown. So I took a few of the rally. Actually, I sold one to the newspaper,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘You what? Hell, I hope no-one saw you. Your name wasn’t mentioned, was it?’ asked Bradley in alarm.

  ‘You mean, a photo credit? I don’t think I’m at that level yet.’

  ‘Catherine, this is serious. What paper was it?’

  ‘The Hawaii News.’

  ‘That trashy paper? You know that’s a mouthpiece for the separatists. They’ve started with land issues, they’re against development – and remember tourism is the lifeblood of the Islands – and before you know it they’ll be pushing for secession, independence or some such nonsense.’

  ‘Bradley! People just want the right to stay on their own land. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Catherine, I’m not going to discuss this with you. I’m stopping this conversation right now. But just let me say this, you cannot fraternise with politically affiliated or contentious people who are expressing sentiments and essentially taking an anti-American stance. We cannot take sides when we are an arm of the government.’

  ‘You. Not me, Bradley.’

  ‘You’re my wife, America is your home now. Good Lord, you’re taking out citizenship,’ he snapped in an angry, low voice. ‘You’re supposed to be thinking of us, our future. These foolish ideas and friends are damaging to us. Please consider that.’

  Catherine was tempted to snap back, but saw the stewardess approaching with the meal trolley and so kept quiet.

  They ate their meal in silence, then Bradley opened his book and settled himself with a pillow and was soon asleep. Catherine continued to stare at the blank world of clouds outside the plane. She could understand Bradley’s point of view. But she could hear Mollie’s voice saying, ‘Stand up for yourself. Get liberated, Cathy.’

  Catherine had been surprised to find that Mollie was now involved in ‘women’s lib’ and despite her plans for her and Jason’s future, she’d told Catherine, ‘He’s had to accept that I want a say in our plans – where to live, my working, starting a family, my money, his money.’

  Mollie’s outspoken attitude had made Catherine realise how much of her life she had relinquished to Bradley. But she’d loyally told Mollie, ‘Bradley is so organised, such a planner, so sensible, and so amenable and fair. I’m quite happy to let him run things.’

  ‘That’s because you’re an only child, Cathy. You’ve been looked after and spoiled and Bradley is doing the same.’ Catherine had not replied to such an unjust remark, but she did think about Mollie’s forthright attitude to marriage.

  Catherine dozed and when she awoke they were getting ready for the descent into Honolulu. Her spirits rose. She began to think about the island’s beauty, Kiann’e and her friends, starting her photography course, her early morning swim in crystal water.

  When they left the plane the sight of the palm trees, the soft breeze, the warmth of the air and the smiles of the local people, the ease with which they went through customs, the calls of aloha, leis being given, people embracing . . . She took Bradley’s hand.

  ‘I’m glad to be home.’

  They skimmed through the mail and Catherine grimaced as she read several formal invitations to morning teas, luncheons and a meeting of the Wives’ Club. She rang Kiann’e.

  ‘You’re back! We’ve missed you. A swim tomorrow? What are you doing for lunch?’ asked Kiann’e, sounding delighted to hear from her.

  ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly face going out today, thanks. But I can’t wait to see you in the morning. How’s everything?’

  ‘Good, good. Lester misses you. Are you jet lagged?’

  ‘It’s been a long trip. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’ Catherine was keen to share her feelings and tell Kiann’e all about her visit home. ‘But I’m really glad to be back.’

  They went to the commissary for provisions, Bradley called some colleagues and as they were unpacking and sorting laundry, there was a knock at their door.

  ‘Who would that be?’ said Bradley. ‘We really need an early night. I have to work tomorrow.’ His face fell as he opened the door to find Albert, Kiann’e’s teenage nephew, standing there with a large basket.

  ‘Kiann’e and Aunty Lani sent this for Catherine.’

  ‘Hi, Albert. What’s this?’ called Catherine behind Bradley.

  ‘They thought you might be too tired to cook. They sent you a welcome home supper.’

  ‘How lovely, come in.’

  ‘Ah, that’s okay. See ya.’ He waved and left.

  Bradley put the large basket on the table. ‘Really, Catherine, how embarrassing. We could go out to eat and we bought food. We’re not on welfare and I don’t want to be treated like family by these people.’

  ‘These people are friends of mine, and I think this is so thoughtful. It’s the aloha spirit, Bradley. Look, how yummy.’ She began taking containers of food, some fruit and a cake from the basket.

  That night they broke a rule and ate in front of the TV. Bradley had to admit that the food was good.

  ‘I suppose you’re seeing Kiann’e tomorrow. When you return the basket don’t encourage any more food drops,’ said Bradley.

  Catherine ignored the comment and said breezily, ‘I’m starting my photography course tomorrow evening. Can I take the car after I bring you home?’

  Catherine caught up on the local news as she and Kiann’e walked the beach the next morning. She wanted to know how all her friends were and what they had been doing.

  ‘My mother is pleased by the support the rally had. There could have been more in the news, but it’s a start. They’re trying to get a meeting with local council representatives. Lester has missed you. Now tell me about the visit. What did Bradley think?’

  Catherine filled her in and told her of her disappointment with Bradley’s reaction to Peel and Heatherbrae.

  Kiann’e shook her head. ‘That’s too bad. He probably finds it too isolated and well, culturally foreign.’

  ‘We speak English at least!’

  ‘I mean that country life isn’t for him. Maybe it’s the space thing, he feels threatened by the wide open spaces! He’s been living in small apartments, works in an office or else is on a cramped ship.’

  Catherine laughed. ‘Good theory, but I don’t think that’s the cause. I’ll adjust. I’m so glad I’m in Hawaii. I just hope we stay here a couple of years. Hey, I’m starting my course tonight.’

  ‘Great. You should take a portrait of Lester. I think he misses the limelight a bit.’

  ‘Good idea. And one of you, dancing on the beach at sunset. Not at the Moonflower, somewhere quieter . . . What about the beach opposite your aunty’s land?’

  ‘Fine by me. Figure out the camera first.’

  Catherine loved her first photography class, though some of the more mathematical and technical aspects of it were not her forte. She showed Bradley what she’d been learning, taking several pictures of him as he browsed through a magazine.

  ‘See, later on I can get extra lenses and filters for special effects, put stars in the sunlight on the ocean and . . .’

  ‘Honey, you’re
doing the course, not me. I don’t need a full recap of each lesson. And what do you want all those expensive extras for? The guy probably has a deal with a supplier and it’s not as though you need to take professional photos.’ He turned back to his magazine.

  Catherine was tempted to make a comment about the offer from Vince to bring him photos for the News, but she didn’t want to remind him of her participation in the rally.

  As time slipped by, Catherine found she was busy from early morning till evening. She dropped Bradley outside his office, although it was close enough for him to walk, drove to Waikiki, swam and walked with Kiann’e, had coffee with Lester, then filled in the day with all her domestic chores. She had several gatherings with the Wives’ Club, attended her photography classes, regularly popped in to see Vince at the paper and had started working on her major photography assignment.

  ‘We have to do a series of portraits that tell a story . . . not just a straight head and shoulders type photo,’ she explained to Bradley. ‘Can I shoot you down at the harbour in your uniform?’

  ‘I guess so. But really, Catherine, what are you going to do with all these pictures?’

  ‘It’s part of the course and it doesn’t cost anything to print them. I’m learning darkroom techniques as well. We have to submit a portfolio of photos for our grade. But there is also a competition that all the class is entering.’

  She was pleased with some of the shots she took of Bradley in his crisp white uniform, sunglasses and naval cap as he stood in sunshine, the shadow of a huge dark navy vessel looming behind him. The bollard with thick ropes on the wharf next to Bradley’s immaculate white shoes was a study in contrasts.

  She photographed Kiann’e in a sarong and lei, backlit by the setting sun with her long hair loose, dancing on the sand at the beach near her aunty’s house. They were beautiful pictures but scarcely original ideas. Catherine took other pictures afterwards during the informal supper with family, of visitors and relatives who dropped by as Aunty Lani dished out food to everyone. She snapped the jolly Hawaiian woman ladling out food onto plates with a small girl tugging at her muu-muu.

  Bradley also had decided to do a short course for admin staff. ‘I thought if you’re out a couple of nights a week you wouldn’t mind if I did this course. It’ll finish before I have to leave and it all helps towards further promotion.’

  So while Bradley sat in the lecture room at the base, Catherine had dinner at Aunty Lani’s with Kiann’e. She carried plates inside and helped with the clearing away.

  ‘You’re almost one of the family now,’ said Aunty Lani. ‘Here, take this leftover chicken curry home for your husband.’

  ‘Thanks, Aunty. He’ll love it. He goes to class straight after work so he’ll be starving,’ said Catherine.

  ‘How’s the picture taking going?’ asked Uncle Henry.

  ‘Good. I’m still looking for a few more people to photograph. There’s a trip to Kauai for the winner of a photo competition and I’m dying to go back there.’

  ‘Great, you know you can always stay with Beatrice. Take some pictures on Po’ipu Beach. Get some of those cute surfer boys,’ chuckled Aunt Lani. ‘Say, what about Lester? He’s a good looking man even now. Oh, he was a looker when he first came here. All the girls were mad for him.’

  ‘Have you known him a long time?’

  ‘I met him in the thirties when I was very young. He was a legend even then. He was part of the group that hung around the Outrigger Canoe Club. He used to spend a lot of time in Kauai. But that’s another story.’

  ‘Is that where he met Eleanor? They must be good friends as she lets him live in her apartment,’ said Catherine.

  Aunt Lani didn’t answer and busied herself in the kitchen.

  ‘Did Lester work for Eleanor and her husband at the Palm Grove? What’s the connection between them?’ persisted Catherine, now curious.

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ said Aunt Lani. ‘Not our business. Lester is a good man. Here, you come back soon.’ She handed Catherine the food to take home.

  Catherine asked Kiann’e about Lester and Eleanor and Ed Lang the next morning.

  ‘Who knows what the story is? There is something though, because Eleanor acted vague when I asked her. Vague as in evasive,’ said Kiann’e. ‘Anyway, if you want to photograph Lester, chat to him about his life. There’s also probably a lot in the newspaper files, he was such a champion as well as designing boards and being active in getting surfing on the map.’

  Lester was rather pleased at the idea of Catherine’s taking his portrait, as much for the outing as the photography. She told him she’d pick him up on Thursday afternoon. In the meantime she went to see the librarian in the archive of the Honolulu Advertiser who pulled out clippings on Lester dating back over fifty years. Catherine sat in the little cutting library in the Advertiser’s offices crowded with filing cabinets, shelves filled with books of yellowing clippings and folders crammed with old press photographs.

  There must have been some system to the chaos because the kindly librarian hauled out the file with Lester’s name on it. ‘We’re starting to put things on microfiche now, before the old papers disintegrate,’ she said. ‘There could be old newsreel footage, early TV stuff, but you’d have to go to KGMB or somewhere to ask about that,’ she suggested.

  ‘This is great. Amazing,’ said Catherine, poring over the fat folder of pictures of a handsome young Lester posing with Duke Kahanamoku and other surfers Catherine didn’t recognise and in action himself. Slowly she began to see what Lester’s public life had been like. Everything was centred on surfing. Shots of him on impossibly huge waves, a mere speck out the back of the waves, flipping over a curling wave, riding a long board at Waikiki with a girl on his shoulders, doing a headstand on a board with Diamond Head in the background when there had been few hotels along the beachfront. Other shots showed Lester wearing leis, with trophies and displaying an array of surfboards.

  But what was his private life? Pretty girls posed with him but none of them appeared a second time in any picture. As Catherine flipped through the yellowing clippings she started to see what a contribution Lester had made to the Islands. He was indeed a true kama’aina. But he was an enigma. How could she sum this up in a photograph?

  She talked it over with Kiann’e who reminded her that someone was always surfing somewhere on the island.

  ‘You could take some pictures of the Australian boys who are always hanging around.’

  ‘Oh, that’s too hard. I know nothing about it,’ said Catherine.

  ‘And you’re not too interested either, I can tell,’ said Kiann’e.

  ‘Nope. It’s one aspect of Hawaii that doesn’t turn me on.’

  Kiann’e grinned. ‘Wait till you see those surfer boys in action!’

  But in spite of this suggestion, Catherine thought Kiann’e’s idea to take a portrait of Lester was the best.

  ‘You were quite the surfer hero in your time, Lester. I hadn’t realised how famous you were. I saw some old newspaper clippings. You looked like a movie star.’

  He merely smiled. ‘Well, I did appear in a few films. Wasn’t for me.’ He dropped the subject.

  Catherine saw an opportunity to prise open the shell around his past. ‘Wow, Lester, that’s pretty interesting. Tell me more.’

  ‘Different times, back then, Catherine. Nobody’s interested now.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ever marry, Lester?’ asked Catherine.

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have much to offer anyone. I’m not the type to settle in the suburbs, pay off a home.’

  ‘You couldn’t find a nice island girl? You are so happy here, the lifestyle suits you. And, my goodness, you were so handsome and then you became so famous the girls must have flocked to you.’

  ‘Maybe that was part of the reason. Never any shortage of girls and I liked them all.’

  ‘Lester, what a ladies’ man you are!’ laughed Catherine, thinking how little had changed. Kiann’e, even Beatrice herse
lf, and who knows what other lady friends were still dancing attendance on him.

  He took a scrapbook from a shelf and handed it to her. ‘How about I put the coffee on?’ he suggested.

  Catherine began looking through the photos and newspaper cuttings, trying to equate the arthritic older man before her with the bronzed, stunning-looking figure in the pictures. ‘Coffee, yes please, Lester. You look like a Greek god in these! And so fit.’

  Lester looked over her shoulder. ‘I feel a bit stiff today, but I lasted longer than most. I won a few championships in my late forties, though no-one knew my age.’

  ‘You devil, Lester. I see what you mean. You look amazing.’

  Catherine was astonished not just by how handsome and contemporary Lester looked, but by the quality of the old black and white photos. He was wearing fitted swim shorts in a lot of the pictures and if it hadn’t been for the old-style white buckled belt around them, he could have been a surfer of today. There were a lot of photos of him posing on the beach standing against massive solid long boards, in action on the waves with Diamond Head in the background. But it was a series of studies using light and shade that caught her attention. Lester was posed on tiptoe, angled like a dancer in a brief knotted lava lava, like a nappy, she thought. Others were of him naked, back to the camera, lying on the sand. He had a lean, lightly muscled, well-proportioned body, an allover tan, the sunlight caught the light hairs on his arm, his sun-streaked blond hair fell over his face. One photo showed him on his side, back modestly to the camera, stretched naked on the sand, head resting on one bent arm, his other hand casually holding a large trophy – a cup for surfing or swimming, she assumed. The black and white pictures were of prize-winning quality, and looked as if they could have been taken yesterday.

  ‘Who took these photos? They’re excellent,’ said Catherine.

  ‘I took some myself, or I set them up and had a lady friend click the shutter.’ He smiled.

  ‘Lester, could I borrow this scrapbook if I promise to guard it with my life?’