by Di Morrissey
‘I think so, but there are so many buildings along this stretch of coast, I’m confused. Maybe it’s behind that glass monstrosity,’ said Catherine pointing to a large luxury resort.
Mollie turned the car between the massive lava rock gates that led to a driveway lined with young coconut palms. ‘This looks like it.’
Catherine was too stunned to speak. At the entrance was a sign, ‘The Palm Grove’. But there the likeness ended. Emerald lawns, fountains, a huge open-air glass and steel foyer filled with orchids that cascaded down a waterfall in the lobby confronted them. A concierge in an elaborate uniform came and opened the car door.
‘Welcome to the Palm Grove, ladies.’
‘Is this where the original Palm Grove hotel was?’ asked Mollie.
‘It is the same site. But the land has been filled and the grounds extended. It used to flood you know. Are you checking in?’
‘No,’ said Catherine. ‘I used to come here a long time ago. Can we look around?’
‘We’ll have something to eat. Maybe a drink later,’ said Mollie taking Catherine’s arm and leading her into the foyer. ‘My God, look at this place. It’s stunning! Gorgeous. Look at the French antiques! Why aren’t we staying here?’
‘They probably charge thousands a night. Mollie, this is awful. I can’t believe it!’
‘It’s divine! I love it. Plush, plush. Look at that pool. Ooh, this is movie-star stuff,’ breathed Mollie, quite awestruck.
‘But think back to what it was, what Eleanor created . . . But of course you never saw it.’ Catherine stopped a passing staff member. ‘Excuse me, is there anything left of the original Palm Grove hotel?’
The girl looked confused. ‘Sorry, I’m new. The old area is out the back. Over there.’
‘Well, thank heavens for that. Come on.’ Catherine headed through the lobby in the direction the girl had pointed. Mollie trailed behind her taking in the décor with its life-size portraits of Hawaiian royalty and marble tables with huge crystal vases of flowers, the Aubusson carpets and deep comfortable furniture in beautiful silk fabrics.
‘Can you imagine what the suites must be like?’ breathed Mollie.
Catherine didn’t answer. This was not like anything that Eleanor had tried to do. She followed the path through the grounds, surprised she couldn’t see anything familiar, but then she saw a discreet sign pointing to ‘the sacred grove and temple’. She strode past the day-spa area and through a small gateway in an old lava stone wall by a tiny waterlily pond. Then she stopped and stared.
This was the heiau, almost unrecognisable in its transformation. As Abel John would have wished, the sacred stones, the original temple walls and altar, had all been exposed in situ and sat amidst clipped lawns. Small plaques with artists’ impressions of how it might have looked hundreds of years before were displayed before each group of stones. And at the far end was a thatched roundhouse where it seemed dances and ceremonies were held.
Mollie caught up to her. ‘Hey, what a groovy place. They must hold weddings here.’
‘It’s the heiau. A sacred place,’ said Catherine quietly. ‘Even this has become a tourist attraction.’
‘Where are the old palm trees? You know the ones with names on them that you told me about?’ asked Mollie.
‘I don’t know. So much was destroyed in the tsunami, but I can’t believe it’s all gone. I’m so glad Eleanor can’t see this.’ Catherine stood there a moment longer, her eyes closed, then turned on her heel and walked away.
‘Are we going to have a drink? It’s hot and the bar looks amazing.’
‘Mollie, I’d rather not. Let’s drive a bit.’
Catherine directed Mollie out to her last stop on this odd pilgrimage and was relieved to find she remembered her way along the coast road. But there were cars and car parks at every possible location as well as expensive-looking homes. The road that had been a dirt track was now paved and part of a residential area. It was hard to recognise where Nirvana had been, but as they passed one sprawling suburban house with a large garden Catherine exclaimed, ‘I think that’s where it was. The trees look familiar. And the setting. Gosh.’
‘Not exactly an out-of-the-way hippie dropout place now,’ said Mollie. ‘Where to?’
‘One last shot and that’s it.’
They parked off the road, locked the car and Catherine led the way along the beach. A wind had sprung up and there was no decent surf so the rocky beach was deserted save for a lone fisherman. At the end of the beach she found the path used by surfers to reach the rocky point.
‘Where are we going? This doesn’t go anywhere. Dead end ahead, Cath.’
Catherine didn’t answer as she studied the rocks blocking the track and then gave a short cry. ‘Here.’ She pushed a rock and it rolled to one side. No track was visible, just short grass. Catherine plunged ahead. ‘Follow me.’
And then, there it was, just as she remembered. The goddess pool. ‘See, the tidal pool. It’s a special women’s place. And the tide is out. Let’s go.’
‘Go? Where?’ asked Mollie. ‘What’re you doing?’
Catherine was peeling off her clothes. ‘We have to go in. Come on.’
Naked, she picked her way across the rocky foreshore and settled herself in the clear water caught in the circle of rocks hidden by the cliffs.
‘When in Rome . . . whatever.’ Mollie followed and eased herself into the water and leant back. ‘Hey, this is mad! I love it!’
The two friends splashed and giggled.
‘This would be fun to do with the girls,’ said Mollie. ‘Y’know, you can kind of believe in all the myth and magic stuff about the Islands when you’re here, in a place like this.’
Finally Catherine felt herself letting go of the old memories.
‘Like Aunty Lani said, this was all part of a certain time in my life but I moved on and I’ve been so fortunate that I’m so happy. But I’m glad I came back. And I’m glad you’re here too, Mol.’
They returned to Honolulu and, at Kiann’e’s invitation, stayed at her house for their last two days.
Now, it’s shopping time,’ announced Mollie. ‘Ala Moana, here we come.’
They were due to fly out in the evening. Catherine was shopped out, but Mollie had gone back to get some things she’d been undecided about and now wished she’d bought. They arranged to go to dinner with Kiann’e and Willi before Kiann’e took them to the airport. So while Mollie was in her final burst of shopping, Catherine caught the bus down into Waikiki. She felt like a tourist who’d had a fantastic holiday that was coming to an end.
No matter how they built and changed, razed and developed, nothing could spoil the Waikiki sunset. Catherine walked past the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and debated about having a drink on the terrace when a woman she didn’t recognise approached her shyly and held up a copy of The Waterman and asked her to sign it.
‘My name is Margaret. You don’t know me, but I remember you,’ she said. ‘And I read about you and the book in the paper.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, where do we know each other from?’ asked Catherine.
‘I’ve worked at the Outrigger Canoe Club as a receptionist for years. I remember Lester well. It would be nice if some of his photos were hung in the club.’
‘Yes, it would. I’ll suggest that,’ said Catherine and she signed the flyleaf.
‘I remember you being around the club with PJ,’ the woman added. ‘When Lester was getting on in years.’
‘Ah,’ said Catherine. ‘PJ. I wonder what happened to him?’
‘Oh, he’s good. He’s still around. Y’know, I often think PJ became Lester. They’re two of a kind, aren’t they?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I lost touch with him years ago. Since I left the Islands,’ said Catherine.
‘He still surfs outside the club some mornings. He’s amazingly fit.’ She grinned. ‘Still attracts the girls. Well, congrats again on the book. It’s terrific. Thanks for signing it.’
‘Mahalo, you�
��re welcome,’ said Catherine as the woman disappeared into the hotel.
Catherine walked along the beach towards Diamond Head, blotting out the cheek-by-jowl resort palaces and hotels that inched along the golden strip of Waikiki. She kept her eyes on the water, the waves and the changing end-of-day colours she remembered so well. There were a few surfers at Queens break, some dotted in clusters, waiting and watching, perhaps chatting. The swimmers had left the water. People were preparing for their evening activities.
The sun had set, so she turned to retrace her steps. But a figure riding a golden wave caught her eye and she stopped. Slowly she walked to the water’s edge. He glided into the shallows and stepped off, pushing the board ahead of him before lifting it and walking onto the sand. He was certainly older, weathered, but his body was suntanned and trim. The thick hair, still curly, was silvery gold and there was about him an air of insouciance, of being contained, comfortable and oblivious to anyone around him.
He was going past her, but for a moment she couldn’t speak.
‘PJ?’
He slowed, turned to her curiously with a slight, questioning smile, his blue eyes bright as he stared at her.
‘Hello, PJ.’
From the tone of her voice he sensed something was required of him.
‘Hi.’ Then, ‘Do I know you?’
‘It’s me, Catherine.’
‘Sorry, Catherine?’
‘I was Catherine Connor. It’s been a long time,’ she finished lamely.
‘A long time.’ Then as if a fog lifted slightly, he said slowly, ‘From Australia?’
She nodded. ‘Last time I saw you, you were off to Mentawai for a few weeks.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Wild waves there.’
‘You were going to be in a surfing film,’ she prompted.
‘Yep, I’ve done a few of those,’ he acknowledged.
She paused. He doesn’t remember me.
‘Have you been in the Islands since the seventies?’ she asked.
‘Off and on.’ He looked away briefly.
‘I’ve written a book about Lester.’
He smiled and she couldn’t help wincing at the familiarity of his smile, his strange beauty.
‘Lester, eh? Miss seeing the old fox. Looked after himself. He hung in there a good time. I’m trying to do the same. A book. He’d like that.’
‘PJ! Come on.’ A girl’s voice called from behind Catherine.
‘Photos. Lester took lots of pictures. Did you . . . ?’ A faint light started in his eyes.
A young woman in a short dress with brown limbs and long hair hurried along the sand. ‘Come on, PJ. We’ll be late.’
‘Yes, I took lots of photos too.’ Catherine glanced at the girl, who was staring at her, then looked back at PJ. ‘You taught me to surf,’ she finished.
‘Good, that’s good. Come down tomorrow, we’ll have a surf.’ The girl caught up to him and possessively took his hand, giving Catherine a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
The girl was probably the same age as Catherine had been when she’d loved PJ.
‘Sorry, I’m leaving for Australia tomorrow.’
‘Maybe next visit then.’ He smiled at her. Did she imagine some tangled expression in his eyes, his smile?
‘Sure. I’ll look you up.’
‘I’ll be here. I’m never far from the beach.’ The girl tugged at his arm and he turned away.
‘Oh, I know that,’ said Catherine, softly. ‘I hope it makes you happy, PJ.’
But the girl was chattering and he didn’t hear or acknowledge her remark.
It was dark now. The soft velvet night embraced the Islands as the moon rose, the stars began to shine and flowers perfumed the breeze.
She smiled to herself as she walked along the soft sand. Mollie would kill herself laughing at this encounter. But that was okay, Catherine was happy.
These Islands would always hold a place in a corner of her heart. But she wanted to go home now – to Rob, her girls and Heatherbrae.
The End