The Islands (14 page)

‘Oh, come on, Bradley. It was a morning tea party with a bunch of women with nothing but time on their hands trying to feel important,' she retorted.

‘Catherine, that's not the right attitude at all. You have to stop being so critical. Have you considered those women probably feel sorry for you? They consider you a country girl from Down Under who has a lot to learn about how things are done in the USA?'

‘What rubbish!'

Bradley sighed. ‘Look, just fit in, be sweet, listen, do what it takes. Don't rock the boat. It's my career and the wives play an important role, even when it comes to promotion. This marriage is a partnership. I thought you understood that.' He spoke in a serious voice as if to an errant child.

Catherine didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She wanted to raise her voice and tell him he was being ridiculous. When Bradley had talked about his career, the support of the other wives, the navy community – the navy family – she'd thought in general terms, in the big scheme of things: some social events and if there was a problem, then the other women were there to support you. She hadn't considered that she would have to play a role in the minutiae of a weekly social club with women whose focus was so narrow.

‘Okay, Bradley. If it means so much to you and my baking cakes and going to craft classes will help your career path then of course, I'll do whatever you say.'

He gave her a sharp look to see if she was being facetious though her tone was meek. ‘I'm not telling you what to do, Catherine. I'm assuming you will make that call yourself and know what is the correct thing to do.'

She changed the subject and busied herself in the kitchen wondering if they'd just had their first fight.

It was a relief when she had a chance to meet Kiann'e for coffee and the two hours they spent together disappeared in a flash. Catherine told her how wonderful she thought Eleanor and the Palm Grove were and Kiann'e told her more about Eleanor, Abel John, Mouse and the ethos of working for the hotel.

‘Eleanor can be a tyrant in some ways, things just have to be done her way, there is no other. But you can't deny she's what makes it work. She took me under her wing and encouraged me and she arranged a job for me at the Moonflower.'

‘I find it strange that a woman from the East Coast should be so steeped in the culture and traditions of Hawaii. How, why did she come to the Islands?'

‘I think she ran away from a broken romance somewhere. She doesn't like to talk about herself. She married Ed Lang who was older and they were so happy. I know she desperately wanted a child but it didn't happen, then Ed died so suddenly and everyone thought she'd sell their hotels they'd bought and go back East. But she threw herself into the Palm Grove and it was like she was reborn. It
is
her life.'

‘She seems very knowledgeable about the old traditions, the history and so on,' said Catherine. ‘I was fascinated. All I knew about Hawaii was Waikiki Beach and that Captain Cook was killed on the Big Island.'

Kiann'e swirled the last of the coffee in the bottom of her cup. ‘There's a lot to know. Many of the kids today have no interest in the old days; it's past history, they say. A few quaint traditions linger that are trotted out for tourists . . . But there's a lot happening in some quarters,' said Kiann'e carefully.

‘Like what? I'm really interested,' said Catherine, aware that Kiann'e was hesitant about going into details.

The dancer smiled. ‘Slowly, slowly. If you're really interested we can visit a few people, special places. I think you'd appreciate and understand there's a lot more to learn.'

‘I'd like that, really I would,' said Catherine eagerly. ‘I need more in my life than craft classes, tea parties and talking to women who are adornments to their husbands' careers.'

Kiann'e gave a soft laugh. ‘You're Australian, so you're a straight shooter, Catherine. I like that. In the coming weeks and months, let's just tell your husband you're out with a girlfriend. But really, you and I . . . we're going on a journey.' She reached across the table and the two young women clasped hands.

 

Extract from The Biography of

THE WATERMAN

For the young man, swimming was not just a way of earning a meagre living as a lifeguard. Swimming was a challenge like running, a sport and a pleasure. It became the focus of each day. Something he looked forward to, an earned gift after the boredom of sitting on the beach and fulfilling his lifeguard duties.

When he was running he found himself as much a novelty in the suburbs of Los Angeles as he had back in Red Hawk. Residents didn't walk about much because the popularity of automobiles was increasing. Sometimes he was regarded with curiosity, but a second glance at the fit and handsome young man, determinedly running at an even steady pace and taking no notice of passing traffic, soon settled any doubts. Sometimes passers-by waved or called a greeting but most ignored him and sped past.

After the barren plains of Red Hawk, the geography of Los Angeles intrigued him and he never noticed the distances he covered. He came to know the sprawl of the town, areas of adobe houses, farm fields, the west-side mansions, the orchards of the San Fernando Valley and the cluster of buildings and movie studios known as Hollywood.

He discovered small pockets populated by foreign people and in one section, five miles from Hollywood, he discovered a dark-skinned man with heavily accented English who had opened a small shop and baked heavy wholewheat bread for ten cents a loaf. Three loaves of this wonderful bread and a bag of groceries from a local farm shop kept the young man going for nearly a week.

When he was running and swimming the young man came alive. He tested his body, felt every muscle, every fibre, every breath and every heartbeat. His feet and arms moved as a machine, but his mind whirled free as his feet pounded over the miles.

Sometimes he imagined he was zooming over the Rockies like one of the great eagles, or the hawks of his home town. Sometimes he was sliding in snow, skimming over an icy lake, or taking the first spring plunge in a frosty river. And always his fantasy, the movie in his mind, ended with him, upright, standing on a board, riding the waves of Hawaii.

The ocean at Santa Monica was unpredictable and not always suitable for serious swimming so when he heard that the smart new private sports and athletic club was about to open he managed to slip in to watch the extravagant opening ceremony.

He had never seen a building so grand. The beautiful swimming pool was on an upper floor – a first for the city – and decorated in the beaux-arts style with etched coloured-glass windows, chandeliers, lamps in the shape of swans and marble floors. On the ground floor a forty-piece band was playing and waiters in sharp suits passed around food and drinks to the movie stars and other celebrities. He was amazed when he realised that the initial ‘plunge' into the pool would be taken by the Hawaiian king of swimming and surfing – Duke Kahanamoku, the very man he had seen in that newsreel in Red Hawk.

He pushed forward and was there, waiting to shake the Duke's hand as he left the pool. Breathlessly the young man, less than a decade the Duke's junior, told him how he'd seen him one day in the movie theatre and how he now dreamed of going to Hawaii.

‘Look me up at the Outrigger Canoe Club when you get there,' the Duke said kindly before he was swept away by officials.

In the weeks that followed, the young man made the acquaintance of one of the security guards of the club who allowed him to go into the pool late at night to swim by himself. With no day job other than being a lifeguard at the beach in summer and using the money from his grateful benefactor in winter, he spent every spare moment lapping the pool. He began to compete against others and frequently won. When he heard of a competition he'd turn up, dive in and win. The club began to notice his success and the club coach explained there was a system to these events and he needed to represent a club. He suggested the young man represent theirs. He no longer had to train at night by himself.

The coach persuaded him to swim for the club at the long-distance swimming championship in Philadelphia. The coach accompanied him and this time he travelled as a legitimate train passenger. Second class wasn't luxurious but it was vastly superior to the boxcar of the freight trains.

While the coach had befriended him, the young man had no illusions their friendship was based on anything more than his winning for the club. Should he fail to do so, he would once again be alone and at a loose end. He did not have close friends among the club's members or the other competitors. He kept to himself and his drive and determination isolated him.

The race was along the chilly and choppy Delaware River but when he dived in he imaged he was swimming in the tepid waters of Waikiki. He won the race by yards and found his face on the sports pages of the local newspaper the next day. The newspaper account hailed the champ from the west who had annexed the local titles in his debut long-distance swimming meet. He carefully cut out his first newspaper photo, wrote the date on it and slipped it into his wallet. He was asked to stay in the east and compete in several more events from a one-mile invitational to a ten-mile race, and he won them all. He was starting to become famous not only as a long-distance swimmer but for winning any event he entered. His name now appeared regularly in newspapers and so it came as no surprise to him that he was asked to try out for the Olympic Games.

When the Princess Matoika sailed from New York with the US Olympic team bound for the Games in Antwerp, the young man was amazed to find himself sharing a cabin with his hero and the star of the swimming team, Duke Paoa Kahanamoku.

5

T
HE SUN HAD YET
to appear but already fierce gold light was piercing the soft skirts of fading night. Catherine waited on the street outside the TradeWinds watching the early morning shift workers head for hotels, coffee shops and businesses. Even though Honolulu was a holiday place, where, on a morning like this, you could tell already from the gentle breeze, the warmth in the air and the clear sky that it was going to be a picture-postcard day, life for many was as humdrum as in any city in America. Children to get ready for school, breakfasts to prepare, news programs on television, people planning their day, going to jobs and generally focusing on the daily issues of their lives. And yet, decided Catherine, there was a difference here. The casual way people dressed, the mixture of races, the smiling demeanour on their faces. Glance upward in any direction and you glimpsed a palm tree with the knowledge that not far away you'd strike a strip of beautiful beach and stunning scenery. Yes, Hawaii was different. Living here she couldn't escape or ignore the fact she was part of this ‘island paradise' and, as everyone reminded her, she was lucky to be part of it.

Kiann'e had suggested that Catherine join her on one of her early morning outings where she walked on the beach, had a swim and was home in time to make her husband's breakfast before he went to work. Catherine agreed, though she admitted to being not much of a beach person.

She recognised Kiann'e's little red truck as it pulled into the curb.

‘Morning. Have I kept you waiting?' asked Kiann'e.

‘No, I didn't want you to have to wait so I was a few minutes early.'

‘Is Bradley up? You should bring him along.'

‘He was just waking up . . . but he needs a cigarette and black coffee before he gets going. How about your husband, Willi, isn't it?' Catherine hadn't met Kiann'e's husband who ran a small factory making some sort of light industrial equipment that Catherine didn't quite understand. She knew he made frequent trips to Germany where his father had an engineering business. Kiann'e didn't talk about Willi's business or her home life very much and Catherine hadn't wanted to pry. Besides, she was far more interested in Kiann'e's dancing career and her stories about growing up on Kauai.

Kiann'e drove below the rugged peak of Diamond Head, circling Kapiolani Park and pulled into a small apartment building of dark wood with lanai railings all painted bright turquoise. The wooden shuttered screen doors gave the Ambassador Apartments a Japanese flavour. She parked underneath in a resident's parking place and got out.

‘Follow me.'

‘Who lives here? Anyone you know or do you just park here?' asked Catherine as she followed her out of the underground car park to a narrow strip of lawn and small swimming pool. A low rock wall separated the grounds from the beach with several steps leading onto the sand. The beach was deserted save for two men walking. An older woman was sitting by the pool reading a newspaper. She nodded at Kiann'e as they went down onto the sand.

‘Let's walk first.' Kiann'e pointed up at one of the apartments that faced the beach. ‘Lester Manning lives up there. He doesn't drive anymore so he doesn't mind me using his spot. A couple of times a week I pick up some groceries for him.'