The Islands (38 page)

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 mislaid.

‘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.

‘The boys will probably wake you up when they come in. I'll see you in the morning.' He stood looking down at her and Catherine had to resist the urge to lift her arms and reach out for him.

‘Thanks, PJ.' She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight of him. He was so good looking in his casual beachy way, yet PJ seemed unaware of his appeal. As well as his classical good looks, unlike Bradley's clean-cut looks, PJ had a superb physique honed from surfing but there was a reserve, a mystery about him that was alluring. His smile held secrets, the intensity of his blue eyes always reminded her of the depths of the ocean. But she wasn't going to do anything other than look. She was married to another man and that had to be the end of it.

It took Catherine a long while to fall asleep again. She was surprised at what she was doing. What on earth would Bradley think? She hadn't had a single drink, the car hadn't broken down and although she really didn't want to be seen getting home so late, there wasn't really a valid reason for her to stay here. But she wasn't doing anything wrong nor had she any intention of doing anything but sleep. Perhaps she just didn't want to be alone anymore.

Eventually she must have drifted off. She heard the boys clump through the house to their rooms sometime during the night then she went straight back to a dreamless sleep.

She was curled up, her back to the room, when she slowly began to awaken. There was a touch on her hair . . . as light as breeze, a cat's paw, a bird's wing . . . She rolled over, sleepily smiling.

‘Catherine, are you awake?' PJ spoke softly.

She rolled over to see PJ crouched beside the sofa. ‘I'm awake now.' She saw the silvery dawn light outside the window. ‘It's early. What's up?'

‘I'm heading to the beach for the sunrise. Want to come for a surf? I've made coffee.'

‘I can smell it.' She sat up. ‘I guess so. Now I'm awake.'

He padded out to get the coffee and Catherine went and washed her face. In the kitchen PJ poured her a mug of coffee.

‘I'll have to go back to my apartment and get my swimsuit.'

‘There're girls' bikinis hanging around here. They're on the clothesline. Drink up and let's go. Don't want to miss it. I'll treat you to breakfast afterwards.'

PJ gave her one of his T-shirts to wear over the swimsuit she found. Catherine felt strange walking the two blocks to the beach in the half light, each of them carrying a surfboard through the empty streets. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought.

PJ hummed to himself. ‘Board not too heavy?' he asked as they turned down a side street towards the beach.

‘Not really. Cumbersome. I'm not going to be able to manage this thing, y'know.'

‘What's the Aussie expression? Give it a go? You might surprise yourself.' He took her hand. ‘I'd really like you to try to get the feeling. Might help you understand me a bit.'

She was silent. The touch of his hand felt so natural and gave her a sense of closeness with him. A warmth, like that which occurs between two friends who have shared experiences, replaced some of the guilt from the episode on Kauai. Suddenly, getting in the water, on a surfboard, seemed to be really important to her.

It was still, but cool and she left PJ's T-shirt on so that the fibreglass surface on the nine-foot board wouldn't rub against her skin. They stood in the water as the board bobbed between them.

‘See how beautifully it floats, like a sleek yacht. Every part of the board is curved, it's like a woman. From every angle, the top, the rocker, fore and aft, and the sides. Thin in front, thick in the centre then thin again out at the tail. It's a sensual curve. Like a wave.' He ran his hands along the board. ‘Okay, now lie on the board. Get comfortable, feel it mould into your body. All you have to do is stroke, like a swim stroke, smoothly and rhythmically. I'll navigate us around the breaks to avoid paddling through them. Though they're only gentle waves, I just want you to get the feel of being in tune with the water.'

She nodded. ‘But how do I stand up?'

‘Good! Good. That's great you're thinking like that.'

‘Well, isn't that what you're supposed to do? Isn't that what surfing is?' said Catherine.

‘Sweetheart, it's a helluva lot more than just standing up. Body surfers, board surfers, just want to interact with the wave, get on, go for the ride.' He became serious. ‘Both feet should hit the deck at the same time, but I don't want you to be thinking about which foot in front, landing together, what to do when. First we'll get out there and we'll study the waves, their timing, their pace. Waves roll at a constant pace, then there's an interval and that's when you turn around and get ready to paddle. When you feel the board being picked up, that's when you stand up, if you can. But go steady, don't think about it. Bend your knees, they're your shock absorbers, arms go out for balance. They're your wings to help you fly and look forward. The idea is you do it all together.' He readied the board for her. ‘Hawaiian style is to ride all the way to the beach and step off without getting your hair wet.'

‘Oh, right,' said Catherine, gingerly lying on the board. He made it sound so easy and she knew it wasn't.

PJ jumped onto his shorter board and began stroking smoothly ahead of her. Copying his movements, she was surprised at the ease and swiftness with which the board skimmed along. Expertly he weaved through the water, turning slightly every so often so that she wasn't going through the wash of breaking waves. She saw other surfers in the distance, some riding a shallow wave, others sitting on their boards, but mainly she concentrated on following PJ.

When they were out far enough, PJ sat upright and glanced back her. ‘Turn your board around and we'll just sit here for a bit, okay?'

She wobbled as she sat upright, her legs dangling on either side of the board. PJ pointed towards the eastern sky.

‘She'll be up shortly.'

They bobbed gently on the surface of the breathing water. The other surfers also paused, all watching for the moment the day awoke. The sheen on the water went from silver to bronze. Everything seemed suspended. No-one moved, even the surfboards appeared motionless in the lull between waves. And then the rim of the red gold ball was visible and, like an exhalation, the sky ran with colour, ripples ran across the sea, the roll of waves swelled, their crests tipped in pink.

Catherine looked at PJ silhouetted against the light rising behind Diamond Head and it seemed as though he was from another world. He was a creature of the sea, as if risen from it, or perhaps he had been always anchored here. Lester had mentioned the word ‘waterman' and now she fully understood its meaning as she looked at PJ. He seemed to have a way of interpreting the sculpture of the ocean. Now she thought that this was how Lester felt about the bond with the ocean, with the waves.

PJ pointed at her. ‘Lie prone. Try for the next one. Come up like a push-up and then on your feet. Have the picture in your head of how you want to be and rise up to that image. All there is to it,' he called.

She lay flat and started stroking automatically. Then she felt the board lift lightly as if a hand beneath the sea was supporting the board and thrusting it forward. For a second she closed her eyes and saw herself standing on the board, cruising on its crest, heading for shore. Without consciously thinking about it, she found she was on her feet, half crouching. Then her arms went out, she straightened and felt the rush of the board cutting through the water, a sensation of speed and, with her eyes glued to the beach, she felt the adrenalin start to pump.

Instinctively Catherine shifted her weight and the board cut across the face of the wave, slewed and she was off, under the water, but laughing, laughing as her face broke the surface.

PJ paddled after her board and brought it back to where she was treading water. ‘Fantastic! You did it! How do you feel?' His face was alight with excitement.

‘It was thrilling! I know I fell off quickly, but it felt like forever. It just happened,' she said breathlessly, grabbing her board and dragging herself back on it.

‘The way you shifted your weight and planted your feet. Right foot forward. You're a goofy foot! Ready to go again? We'll paddle through the break, just keep your head down, or else do a push-up so the wave goes between your body and the board.'

Catherine lost track of time and everything else except the challenge of finding the point where her board took off. And she could stand, knees bent, determinedly locking her eyes on the beach, which came closer with each ride until she found she was almost at the shore when the little wave collapsed and sank and her board slowed and she rolled into the water.

PJ was just behind her and he jumped off his board. ‘You couldn't have got any more out of that wave. Nearly made it to the sand.' He gave her a wet hug. ‘Let's eat.'

Catherine pulled off her waterlogged T-shirt and wrapped a towel around herself, shaking her wet hair.