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The party in someone’s backyard is crowded. Mostly guys and the occasional female couple. They’re welcoming but it’s not really my scene. Andrew always guarded me at social events so I don’t know how to mix. I imagine his face sneering down on my predicament.
And my expectations of a pig slow-roasted in an earth-oven are dashed by the bring-a-plate spread. At least we’re not on the beach, with the vast black ocean niggling away at my consciousness.
It’s not roast pork but the food is delicious. Lots of spicy dips with taro chips and wontons, chicken wings in teriyaki sauce, water chestnuts wrapped in bacon, platters of fresh tropical fruit. Derek describes anything unusual, such as poke – raw fish marinated in sesame and chilli. Tonight it’s mixed with cucumber and avocado and served on toast fingers for easy eating.
Positioning myself beside the buffet table like any good wallflower, I stuff my face, drink too much and pretend to be mesmerised by a couple of guys jamming on ukuleles. Beside me, Derek is greeted by a cavalcade of male friends. I can tell he wants to mingle, but he sticks with me after all attempts to involve me in conversation expose the fact that I’m hard work.
At last it’s time to put us both out of our misery.
“Thanks, DD. Sorry to be so anti-social. Those videos of Noodles’ last moments are hanging around. I just want to cry. Could you call me a taxi?”
I’m capable of phoning one myself. I even have Eddo’s card in my pocket, leftover from the ride from the airport. But if Derek makes the call, he can watch me go with a clear conscience – he’s looked after me till the end.
The anonymous driver whisks me past the Saturday night crowds, loitering and laughing along the streets of Waikiki, confirming my role as outcast. Andrew’s oppressed wife? Or a free spirit grounded by soggy wings? As I look down at my new clothes, feeling like a social failure, I realise the choice between these two roles is the real reason the tears are threatening.
When I open our front door and leap out of my skin at the sight of Doris, I can finally dissolve into an overdue howl.
*
Sunday disappears into oversleeping, freaking out at my puffy eyes, lugging a load of washing to the laundromat and catching up on a few emails.
The excitement of the day is a call from Gretel.
“When my big sister doesn’t call, I have to call her. Otherwise I worry. Not good in my condition.”
“Sorry Gret. It’s been hectic. All my news is good.”
“Yay, don’t hold back. Barry’s sleeping off a night shift.” He’s a doctor. “And I’ve got my feet up and a bucket handy.”
Her morning sickness has been legendary.
She loves my miraculous luck finding Wanda and this flat, then the office and Derek. I massage the truth about last night’s luau so she thinks I’m having fun, coming out of my shell and making friends. She approves of the business name, Moonshine, and my progress towards a website, then asks how far I’ve progressed with the rest of my plans. I don’t mention I’ve spent two days on a phantom hunt.
“Business planning gets up to speed this coming week,” I say.
“You know what it means when things fall into place like this.”
“I’ve wasted the last twenty years?”
“Those twenty have brought you to this moment. You’ve made the right move. A brave and difficult move, and the universe is clapping.”
That’s when I realise the last few crazy days have immersed me in a whole new life. The thunderous clapping of the universe has almost drowned out my old one. The feeble text messages are dwindling echoes of a life that’s over. Elkie Tabrett has hung up her rope sandals for good, and Selkie Moon is blow-drying her soggy wings.
Gretel won’t mind if I blubber, but I send her a photo of Doris instead.
“She’s a good match for Shona,” she says. “They could combine their assets.”
It matches my dream and what Wanda said. I laugh out loud.
Gretel is overcome. “You haven’t laughed like this for twenty years.” It’s her turn to generate puffy eyes.
*
Late in the afternoon I take a walk around my neighbourhood, suddenly drawn to the famous expanse of turquoise blue only a block away from the flat. In my mind Waikiki Beach looms deep and dangerous beneath its sparkling surface, tightening my chest in a corset-like grip. I wonder again why Hawaii kept coming up in my search as the place to escape to. Even the old blindfolded stick-a-pin-on-the-map didn’t waver. There are lots of practical reasons to locate my business here, where a seminar can morph into a vacation, but now my phobia and I are living with the choice.
I don’t cross the road to the long promenade where holiday-makers are soaking in the tropical dusk. From the safety of the opposite pavement, I watch the water lap gentle waves onto the shore, struggling to breathe as the longing I always feel to understand the pull of the sea returns.
For the sake of my peace of mind, I decide not to come here again.
*
Monday morning sees me on the early bus. With the Waipunalani incident hopefully put to rest, I can concentrate on my business.
At the office, Derek’s door is locked and I’m relieved. After pouring boiling water onto a teabag in my Hawaiian mug, I settle at my new desk and draft a plan of action, then start researching each step.
Around midday, Derek pokes his head in and I tell him what I’m up to.
“You need to devote your time to your seminars,” he says.
“What do you mean? Don’t you have work to do too?”
“Hudson rang this morning. He hasn’t slept for two nights. The old ankle anvil again.”
“And you’re supposed to do what, DD? He’s expecting too much too soon. His stress isn’t going to reduce overnight. Lolana didn’t say the sleep paralysis would stop. She just suggested the shaking exercise might help.”
It’s a long speech and my clarity surprises me. If there’s something weird going on in that house, it’s got nothing to do with his sleep paralysis. In fact, that’s a distraction.
“I didn’t promise him anything,” Derek says. “Just listened. And I’ve had a call from Shoreline Constructions. A guy called Rhett left a message. That’s what I get for sleeping in. When I called back I got his voicemail again.”
“DD, I need to spend today on my own work. But I’m free if you need me after hours.”
“That could work.”
For the first time I notice his body language. Hunched. I haven’t seen him since the luau.
“What’s happened?”
He flicks a strand of hair back from his forehead in a dramatic gesture. “Just ... The End of the Affair.”
He doesn’t mean the book or the movie. Even though he didn’t introduce me to anyone special on Saturday night, it’s clear he’s lost his lover. Before I can sympathise, Derek leaves my office and unlocks his door.
*
At five o’clock, he’s back with a beer in each hand. “I’ve been playing phone tag all day with this Rhett character. I’m starting to think he might be our phantom. Gone with the Wind.”
The old Derek is back. I chuckle. “Does he know why you’re calling?”
“No, I just leave my name and number. I’ll explain when he calls.”
“So he’s not avoiding you. Just busy.”
Over our drinks, I ask him to check out my list of possible seminar venues. He knows most and has opinions about several, especially the ones under the same roof as popular drinking holes.
Then he leans back with his drink and drops a bombshell. “I had a call from someone else today. Gracie.”
“What’s happened? Is Sage OK?”
“Yes. Why did you ask that?”
“Why else would Gracie call?”
“Sage is fine, but it’s about her. Gracie gave me some background. Ever since they moved here, Sage has been acting up. They thought she was just sad about losing her gran and missing her other grandparents, settling into a new place and all the building disruption. Then suddenly she invented this invisible friend.”
“Who’s probably helping Sage cope with that house of stress.”
“Well, according to Gracie, the whole invisible friend thing was fine until Sage started fixating on her. Tantrums when they had to stay down the road, that kind of thing.” He pauses and looks at me. “And now Sage is fixating on someone else. You.”
“Really? She surprised me when she remembered my name the other day. But I can’t be accused of encouraging her. She’s just responding to a friendly face.”
“Well, Gracie thinks it’s more than that. She’s asked me ... not to take you to their house again.”
Shit. It’s why he brought the beer. I take a hefty slug.
“I’m sorry, Selkie. It’s not personal.”
“Thanks, DD, but from where I’m sitting it’s very personal.”
My eyes are threatening tears. I realise why Sage has reminded me of myself at her age. She’s an only child uprooted from her extended family, while I was an outcast with a stepmother who lavished all her love on my baby half-sister. After Sage showed an interest in me, did I unwittingly encourage her to fill a hollow in my own heart?
Derek leaves me to stare at the floor for a while, then drops his face to where I can see it. “I still need your help with the research.”
At the sight of his grin, I pull myself together. Sage is not my responsibility. She has loving parents who stand up for her. Gracie is not Stella. And I’m no longer five.
With a bit more encouragement and the rest of the beer, I let it all go and share my intuition from this morning. “Whatever is hanging over that property, it has nothing to do with Hudson’s ankle apparition. I think that’s just sleep paralysis. And Noodles was frightened to death by a cat.”
“But something else is going on?”
“Well, now that those distractions are out of the way, we might discover why we sense a cloud over the house.”
Derek tries to get more out of me, but any further insights have gone, and after the emotional roller-coaster, I wouldn’t trust them. Not knowing what else to do, we trawl through the newspapers in case we turn anything up.
Bored with scanning headlines, I sneak a look at the Elvis pages. A photo catches my attention, captioned with a tiny piece about our tennis star, Ralph Akina.
“DD, Akina landed a bit part in Blue Hawaii. They needed some young hunks to add local colour. Listen. Local talent is getting in on the act, including Kailua’s answer to Elvis, upcoming tennis star, Ralph Akina. ‘I’m just some guy in a beach brawl,’ Akina told our reporter, sounding more modest than his swooning fans are likely to believe. ‘I only have to throw a few fake punches and look mean.’ As mean as you are on the tennis court, Ralph? Keep breathing, ladies.”
Derek looks at the close-up. “They had dudes back then too. What’s the date on it?”
“March 8. Elvis arrived on the eighteenth.”
He thinks about this. “Let’s watch Blue Hawaii. For clues.”
It’s the kind of ‘research’ we both need today but before he can open a movie directory, his phone rings. He puts it on speaker.
“Rhett from Shoreline Constructions. You’ve been trying to contact me. How can I help?”
Derek introduces himself. “We’re working for the new owners of an old house. They’re keen to get some background on the previous renovations back in 1961 and they found a Shoreline Constructions sign in their shed.”
“Shoreline goes back to 1960. I was still in high school but I knew someone who worked for the company. Or I might remember something. Where is it?”
“Maunawili. Beneath Mt Olomana. A house called Waipunalani. It was owned by Everett Turner, the tennis coach.”
Rhett doesn’t reply straight away. “Yeah, I remember Turner. He was a legend with the tennis crowd.” His voice sounds different. Guarded? “He had a few acres up there and big plans for a tennis school, but ... he ran out of money.”
“Is that why the renovations were never completed? After the new roof went on in 1961, they stopped work. We wondered if there was a tragedy associated with the house.”
“A tragedy? Why would you want to know that? Wait a minute, where did you say you’re from?”
“The Surreal Deal.”
“Isn’t that the ghost-hunting outfit?”
“Weird happenings at Waipunalani,” Derek says, “suggest it might be haunted.”
Rhett replies with a meaningful click.
“Well-handled, DD,” Derek says to himself. “You could have sidled up to it with a tad more finesse, brah.”
“I think you smoked him out. After you said Turner’s name, he thought hard before he answered. Then the mention of a haunting spooked him.”
“It’s an unusual reaction for a local, Selkie. Spirit sightings are part of the social wallpaper around here. Hawaiians are normally pretty relaxed about them.”
“An over-reaction. What’s he hiding? He sounded wary to me.”
“Why hide something that happened sixty years ago?” he says. “Who’d care? Turner must be ancient or dead by now.”
“Rhett knew someone at Shoreline. And he was just a kid back then. If there was a tragedy involving his friend, it could have had a lasting impact on him. Something he doesn’t want to be reminded about, especially by a ghost hunter.”
We’re both silent for a while.
“Do we want to dig deeper into this, DD? It’s feeling pretty murky.” After Gracie’s dismissal, I’ve got personal reasons to lick my wounds and move on.
“If it’s literally ‘history’,” Derek says, “it stays buried in the past. Just a memory for those who lived through it. But Rhett’s reaction suggests this one has long fingers. If the events of 1961 could affect the happiness of the Coopers, I don’t think we have a choice.”
As my thoughts return to Sage, I know he’s right.
*
We decide to watch Blue Hawaii another time. Taking a food break at the Pearl, with an unspoken agreement not to call our meals ‘noodles’, we talk about other things. I bring up the subject of Derek’s lost love but he convinces me he’s over it.
On our way out of the café, I grab a fortune cookie off the counter. Derek turns out to be a fortune cookie tragic and gets one of his own. As we huddle on the pavement, he looks over my shoulder while I open mine.
“Don’t let noodles go cold,” I read. “Argh! That’s creepy. It should say ‘your noodles’. Why do my cookies always have a hidden message?”
“Or it’s just giving advice about Chinese food.”
“I suppose.” As my thoughts turn to Sage again, I’m grateful ‘noodles’ doesn’t have a capital ‘N’.
Derek’s message confirms they’re just about food. “You’ve got rice in your teeth.” We chuckle. “And don’t stand your chopsticks in a bowl of rice.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’s bad luck. It’s how you honour the dead – with incense sticking straight up. Chopsticks standing in rice look like that.”
Way too much information. “DD, you’ve got rice in your teeth.”
Back at the office, we spend an hour sifting through the newspapers in a more methodical way. Page by page. We don’t discount any headline without scanning the lead paragraph. There are tragedies and mishaps all over the island but nothing has an obvious connection to Waipunalani.
When we find a display advertisement for Shoreline Constructions, Derek gets an idea. “Why don’t you call them, Selkie? Different phone, different story, different accent.”
“And speak to Rhett again? What would I say?”
“He’s the contact, so we’ll need a new angle to get past him.” He thinks for a minute. “You’re looking for a builder and you want to view a renovation they’re working on, to speak to the owners and meet the site foreman.”
“And then quiz the foreman about past tragedies involving the company?”
He makes a face. “Not. Directly. You had a bad experience in Australia. A building company went out of business before the job was finished. That’s why you’re being extra cautious with your research. Rhett rings ahead and gets permission from the owners. Then at the property, the foreman chats about the company and you’re amazed that Shoreline goes right back to 1960. You pump him with a few questions about those days. If there’s a story, he might let it slip.” I must be looking as nervous as I feel because Derek adds, “You’ve been masquerading as Elkie Tabrett for twenty years. You’re already an actress.”
That makes me laugh. “OK, we’ve got nothing to lose if I mess it up. But if I can get an address out of Rhett, DD, you’ll have to come with me. As my partner. The foreman won’t know you. If I’m an actor, so are you.”
It’s late but I pick up the phone, planning to leave a message on Rhett’s voicemail. When he answers, I’m forced to improvise on the spot.
“Your website looks impressive, especially so much history in the building industry here. Over sixty years. But who owns the company now? If you’ve changed hands recently, you’re not the company I’m looking for.”
“I knew Shoreline back in 1960,” Rhett says. “Then I spent a few years stateside getting experience and my builder’s licence before coming back and buying the company.”
“Wow. Do you still get your hands dirty?”
“My son and grandson do that. These days I answer the phone.”
“Sorry to call so late. I’ve been trying to find a family company with a good history and when I saw your website, I got carried away.”
“It’s the best time to catch me. Why don’t you stop in at one of our properties and meet my son, Travis? You can talk to the owners about their experience with Shoreline.”
Derek winks.
“Awesome. Thanks for suggesting that. Moving to Hawaii for the first time makes me extra nervous about making a mistake.”
“You didn’t say where your property is.”
When my eyes bulge in panic, Derek starts scribbling.
My laugh sounds jittery to my ears. “Hang on. I still can’t pronounce the suburb. Let alone remember it.”
The address Derek’s written is the location of the luau. I tell Rhett the suburb, then describe what I remember about the humble rental, listing some of the improvements it needs.
“Let me ring one of our clients now and get their permission for your visit, then text you the details.” He takes my name and number.
After hanging up, I fall into Derek’s arms. “Oh my God, when he asked for the location, I nearly lost it.”
“You are a natural, Ms Moonshine,” he says. “Now you just need to liven up a notch at parties.”
Waiting for Rhett’s text, I’m too twitchy to concentrate on the newspaper search. Instead I focus on getting the old drawing out of the bottle with a pair of chopsticks from Derek’s desk drawer. Pinching the drawing, I twist the paper round and round until the roll is tight, then slowly pull it out.
It’s pale and faded. A child’s drawing, as I thought. Under the office light, the subject is unclear. Written at the bottom in adult letters is a name that’s legible: Rosemary.
“Where have I heard that name lately?” I ask.
“Sage. It’s another herb that makes food taste delicious.”
Rhett texts an address and an appointment on Wednesday morning at 11 o’clock, the day after tomorrow. While Derek sighs about the ‘early start’, I text Rhett back that I’ll be bringing my partner with me.
*
On my way home on the bus, I pull Lolana’s card from my purse. On Saturday, she chatted with Gracie and Sage, using a talking-stick to uncover Sage’s feelings about the death of Noodles and the goings-on at the house. I’d love to ask her if she detected Sage’s so-called fixation on me. Did Lolana herself recommend excluding me?
That conversation isn’t going to happen. Like a lot of things in my life right now, I’ll just have to say the magic word: Aloha.