Now, Gaualofa’s mother was in front of her, another competitor for David’s attention, if not his love. As long as Taimane was with David, Gaualofa and Ariel would be there too. She cursed that, dreaded it, but had to accept it.

  ‘Would you like to have coffee?’ Ariel invited her. Taimane hesitated. ‘Don’t worry,’ Ariel chortled, ‘David is no longer on my radar. And he tells everyone he’s totally smitten with you.’

  Near midnight, her eyes heavy with tiredness after working on the divorce case, she brushed her teeth and undressed. Getting into bed, Taimane snuggled up against David’s back, buttocks and legs. Yes, she fitted so comfortably into him, and, yes, he into her, and, yes, she was so glad he was home.

  On Monday morning she was ready for work and having her usual black coffee and single piece of wholemeal toast with marmite when David came into the kitchen. ‘You were dead to the planet last night! My case starts at ten – I have a few more things to prepare for it.’

  David kissed her on the cheek and told her he had a lecture at 10.30. ‘Talking about three Hawaiian poets,’ he added.

  ‘Who? Do I know any of them?’ she heard herself asking.

  He poured coffee into his favourite mug, and said, ‘I think two of them. I introduced them to you at that conference.’ He poured in some milk.

  She remembered. ‘What was her name? The very beautiful one feared by all Haole and colonisers?’

  He used a teaspoon to scoop up a large dollop of honey, and stirred it into his coffee. ‘Haunani-Kay Trask.’ He pushed two slices of bread into the toaster and came to the table.

  ‘Should I read her work? You told me she was so angry about what America had done to her country.’ She didn’t quite understand why she was pursuing this.

  He started chuckling. ‘She scares the shit out of Americans – and the other groups who colonised her country and are still wrecking it!’

  She remembered that while they’d been in Hawai‘i he’d tried to get her interested in its history and what was happening there, but she’d been too preoccupied with enjoying herself. ‘And the second one I met?’ she asked, now regretting not knowing more about Hawai‘i’s anti-colonial struggle.

  ‘Mahealani Kamau‘u, that’s her name,’ he replied. ‘She’s a lawyer.’

  ‘She’s a beauty too,’ she said. She waited for David to continue, but he went and got his toast.

  ‘And the third poet – or should I say, poetess, is?’ She didn’t care any more what she was revealing with her questions. The crackling sound of his buttering his toast scraped across her hearing. As he cut his toast in half, the crunching cut open her annoyance.

  ‘Rachel Wong,’ he said nonchalantly, and took a large sip of his coffee.

  ‘What sort of Hawaiian name is that?’ He could be so deliberately hurtful in his treatment of her when he didn’t like what she was inquiring about. So fucking cruel! She stood up and started gathering her used dishes and cutlery.

  ‘That’s why I wanted you to learn more about Hawai‘i,’ he said, continuing to eat as if he wasn’t aware of her true feelings.

  There it was again: his cruel streak of deliberately playing on her weaknesses. ‘So now I’m ignorant, now I don’t care about Hawaiians –’

  ‘I didn’t say that, darling.’ Noisily, he sipped his coffee. ‘Most of Hawai‘i’s population is part-Asian, and most indigenous Hawaiians, like Rachel Wong, are that –’

  ‘How could she be indigenous then?’ As soon as she spoke she regretted it, but it was too late to withdraw her words.

  David spread a thick layer of marmalade over his second piece of toast, taking his time and then, gazing up at her, said, ‘Being indigenous has little to do with blood quantum and everything to do with gafa, genealogy, darling. You know that.’

  She tried to lay her dishes into the sink quietly. ‘I might be home late from work,’ she said, and headed out of the kitchen. ‘And enjoy your indigenous Hawaiian poetesses!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Especially Miss Wong!’

  He got home at six, after a day plagued by his mounting frustration about Taimane’s unreasonable suspicions, which had worsened over their time together. To distract himself, he started cooking their dinner. Taimane was a hopeless cook, a hopeless housekeeper, a hopeless shopper for food and a hopeless budgeter. And she was supposed to be Samoan, the ideal Samoan woman! Admittedly, since they got together, she’d been willing to learn how to cook and he was enjoying teaching her. However, she refused to learn how to clean the house or budget properly – her supermarket shopping consisted of buying anything she fancied, irrespective of the prices.

  ‘I can bloody well afford it,’ she insisted. ‘I can also pay for people to come and do the cleaning. If I had to pay myself or you to clean at the rates we earn, we wouldn’t be able to afford it!’ He had to agree with that. ‘Besides you’re a gifted cook, darling, and you love doing it.’ He had to agree with that, too. He found himself cooking three of her favourite dishes: pork sapasui, fa‘alifu talo and green bananas and a salad of mixed lettuce, avocado, tomato, capsicums and feta, sprinkled with roasted pine seeds and a light French dressing.

  As he was setting the table, he heard Taimane’s car enter the garage, her car door slamming and her high heels clicking up the front steps. Her key slid into the keyhole, the door swung open and then slammed, and she was there in the kitchen, dumping her heavy satchel onto the side table. His heart quickened and his body tensed. ‘Hi,’ he said without looking at her.

  ‘Had a fucking awful day,’ Taimane sighed dramatically as she slid into the dining chair facing him. He opened the fridge and got out a cold Heineken, opening it and placing it in front of her. ‘Thanks.’ She picked it up and in one long swig drained half of it, her eyes watering immediately as the cold hit the back of her head. ‘Needed that.’ As he started putting the food into serving bowls and dishes, Taimane finished her beer and got another out of the fridge. ‘Smells delicious! Haven’t eaten all day.’ She drank the second bottle quickly too, and sighed as if her life was in a hopeless mess. He refused to take the bait.

  After he laid out the food, he brought a chilled bottle of chardonnay and two wine glasses to the table. He opened the bottle and filled their glasses, while she watched and thanked him for cooking some of her favourite food. ‘Sorry about your tough day,’ he said, and then, raising his glass, added, ‘Cheers, darling!’ They clinked glasses and, for the first time, Taimane smiled. Her eyes were bloodshot with tiredness.

  At first, he’d been surprised by the way Taimane ate whenever they were alone. Then he was annoyed, and finally, resigned to her eating habits. Tonight though, he didn’t really care; he was more concerned about her being tired and stressed.

  While she continued to tell him about her court case and how badly the husband and his lawyers were behaving, Taimane scooped large helpings of food onto her plate until it was almost overflowing. Using her hands and fingers and the serving spoon, she devoured her meal, cheeks bulging, mouth moving in a huge chewing movement, pausing only to emphasise a point. Not that the food stuffed in her mouth interfered with the clarity of her speech; he understood everything Taimane said. ‘Guess what the bastard and his lawyers are trying to hide, David?’ She waited, eyes swallowing him, her face round with food. ‘Go on, darling, guess.’

  ‘Most of his assets and sources of income, especially those overseas,’ he played her game.

  ‘Right on, darling.’ She licked her coconut-covered lips clean. ‘Wow, if I keep eating this marvellous fa‘alifu, I’ll have an incredible multiple orgasm like yesterday!’ Taimane chuckled deep in her throat, rolling her eyes at him, and he had to laugh. ‘Yeah, the bastards have revealed only four companies and a piddling number of his investments and shares and fixed deposits overseas. At first I couldn’t prove otherwise and, believing the stereotype that fulltime housewives don’t understand their husbands’ dealings, didn’t bother to ask my client – his wife, Martha – about it. I mean, what do domesticated women who spend their days baby-talking to their kids and entertaining their husbands’ clients know about business?’ Another large spoonful of sapasui into her mouth. Another contented sigh. ‘Martha was so quiet while I was preparing our case that I thought she was a dumb housewife! I didn’t realise it was because she was in deep shock and grief, caused by the break-up of her twenty-six-year marriage to a man she’d loved and served faithfully before he betrayed her. Martha told me she wanted to die and I thought she was such a cliché!’

  Though he and Ariel had been married for only eight years, David understood some of Martha’s pain. Ariel was the one who’d wanted out of the marriage. She told him she was in love with someone else. He’d suspected nothing, so it had come as a numbing, almost unbearable shock. Shock turned to dismay, self-recrimination; he even grovelled to try and get her back. Then that turned to grief, during which he felt empty and wanted to die. When that turned to anger, he started healing. He’d not told Taimane any of this.

  ‘… Today, after getting nowhere with trying to get those wankers to admit they were hiding the rest of their client’s wealth, I stormed back to my office, where I found Martha and her eldest daughter. I could feel it when I looked at her: Martha was angry, really angry, steaming, ready to go to war! Martha handed me a thick file of papers and said, “That should fix the selfish, unfaithful prick!” So I now have some interesting reading for tonight.’

  He cleared the table and washed and put away the dishes while Taimane showered. When he went into their bedroom, Taimane was already in bed, laughing smugly as she read Martha’s file. He showered and, naked, snuggled up against her side and kissed her shoulder repeatedly. ‘That’s nice, nice,’ she murmured, but her attention never left the file. ‘Good on ya, Martha! We’ve got the pricks!’

  On Saturday, he woke and found a note telling him she had gone to get Gaualofa for the weekend. Suspicion and worry radiated through him. This was the first time she’d done that. She’d not offered before, which suited him because of the potentially inflammatory results of a meeting between Taimane and Ariel; plus he didn’t want Taimane to learn more about his failed marriage. Gaualofa and Taimane weren’t yet trusting buddies, either.

  He prepared Gaualofa’s favourite breakfast of strawberry yogurt and muesli and a well-boiled egg. For Taimane, two strips of lean bacon, a tomato cut in half and steamed, and two pieces of wholemeal toast and marmite. And just as he finished laying out breakfast, Gaualofa burst through the front door, scuttled down the corridor and, jumping into his arms, screeched, ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ He hugged her tightly, kissed her on the forehead and eased her into her chair.

  ‘She was dressed and ready when I got there,’ Taimane said as she took her seat. He wanted to ask if she’d talked with Ariel but didn’t. ‘Gaualofa has already told me what she wants to do today,’ Taimane said. She waited for Gaualofa to say what that was, but the girl was engrossed in her yogurt and muesli, so Taimane told him. ‘She wants to go to Western Springs Park and feed the birds and eels. Is that right, darling?’

  ‘Yeah, Mummy takes me there sometimes and I love feeding the ducks and swans and pūkeko and creepy eels and I want to take you there, Daddy!’ she replied, carefully spooning up the last remnants of her muesli.

  ‘I’d love to come,’ David said to his daughter. She noticed that David was using the voice that he reserved specially for Gaualofa, and which signalled she was now excluded from their intimate circle. At first she’d been intensely jealous, but, over the years, she’d had to accept it. She didn’t want to jeopardise her relationship with David.

  ‘We’ll go later this morning,’ David said.

  ‘By the way, Ariel said to give you her love.’ Taimane couldn’t believe she’d said it. She caught the tension in David’s stance. ‘She’s looking well. Still very attractive.’

  ‘Is Mummy working yet?’ David asked his daughter, his attention focused on Taimane.

  Gaualofa shook her head. ‘She only works sometimes in the library.’ Taimane noticed with satisfaction the momentary flicker of exasperation on his face. He was still paying Ariel generous child support, and resented it. Taimane resented it too; after all, that money was partly hers.

  ‘Gotta go to the toilet,’ Gaualofa said, and left the dining room.

  ‘So she’s still attractive, eh?’ David fumed. ‘The – the bloody lazy –’ He couldn’t say it. ‘She should be out working fulltime!’ Taimane was surprised and wickedly pleased – this was the first time he’d ever derided his former wife to her. ‘Did you know she was the one who wanted to end it?’ He stopped abruptly.

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling!’ She grabbed onto this new knowledge. ‘I didn’t know.’

  He couldn’t stop now that the wounds were open and bleeding again. ‘While I was busy slogging my guts out to support her and our kid, she was, she was …’ Again he couldn’t say it. And he didn’t care if he was on the verge of tears.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated as she hugged him closely, burying her face in his warm hair. She’d always meant to tell David about her first meeting with Ariel at the supermarket, and then having coffee with her, and the two later lunches they’d had in Newmarket. About how, though she was wary of Ariel’s sincerity, she’d ended up believing her. According to Ariel, David had been unfaithful, having an affair with one of his graduate students, and when Ariel had found out, he’d simply admitted it and had declared their marriage over. Ariel told Taimane how she’d pleaded with David, but he’d just walked out. She said she still loved him, but she was happy he’d found someone as beautiful, caring and loving as Taimane. How could Ariel have lied to her so blatantly?

  When they heard Gaualofa returning, he broke from her, dried his eyes and started clearing the table.

  By high noon, the sun had sucked up all the shadows. Because of the heat, most people remained under the trees or beach umbrellas. A few hardy joggers and walkers went by on the birdshit-stained main walkway and paths. Taimane sat at the massive wooden table by the lake, under the large, rainbow-coloured beach umbrella that she’d bought in Honolulu, watching David and Gaualofa, who were a few paces away, feeding the mix of pūkeko, ducks, seagulls and geese milling round them.

  Gaualofa was heavy for her age, with blue-green eyes and a shock of golden hair; a miniature version of Ariel without visible signs of David or being Samoan – partly Samoan, Taimane corrected herself. Now that she knew the truth about his marriage break-up and how terribly he’d been affected by it, every time she looked at David she experienced a melting sadness and concern and love – yes, love – and the desire to help heal him. But she knew that if she intruded into the father-daughter circle that was bound even more tightly by the joy David was deriving from watching Gaualofa playing so happily with those birds, she would be rejected. She could see, anyway, how being in that circle was helping to heal David.

  So she opened their large chilly bin and carefully took out their lunch and drinks and laid them out on the picnic table. She knew this was going to attract the birds so she quickly called to David, who put an arm round Gaualofa and brought her to the table, followed by most of the birds they’d been feeding. Here’s trouble, she thought. David picked up Gaualofa and placed her on the bench, above the birds. The birds, especially the geese, were already more aggressive, their demanding heads and beaks thrusting forward repeatedly, even at Gaualofa’s feet and legs, and honking louder. Gaualofa was squealing with delight. Sparrows and other smaller birds were scrambling across the table. Gaualofa moved to break some crusts for them.

  ‘No,’ David said. ‘They’ll only get worse. Put the food away.’ Taimane quickly packed the food away, while David took down the umbrella.

  As they fled from the table, Gaualofa protested, ‘I don’t wanna go; don’t wanta!’, but David hurried her away. The birds streamed after them for a short distance until, realising their feeders were no longer tossing them food, stopped and started looking for other sources.

  ‘Those geese can be really vicious, eh?’ David sighed.

  Taimane agreed. ‘They’re supposed to be good guards for your property, better than dogs. My grandparents in Samoa keep a small flock of them for that purpose.’ Was that another lie? He immediately regretted his thought. His deep distrust of Ariel and the pain she was still inflicting on him was making him suspicious of Taimane again.

  A short while later, they found another table at the edge of the children’s playground. It wasn’t too crowded. Gaualofa rushed over and, getting into a swing, pushed herself back expertly with her feet and then forward; she was soon away, her flight getting higher and higher and more daring. And very risky, he concluded, so he hurried over to her and stood at the side as she laughed and whooped, her eyes wild and bulging with joy.

  Taimane didn’t put up their umbrella again. She wanted suddenly to be in the full force of the heat and sun. Dressed in jean shorts, a bright red t-shirt with ALOHA HAWAI‘I emblazoned along the front of it and yellow jandals – or slippers, as Hawaiians called them – she wanted to feel Hawai‘i again, revel in it, in the boundless amazement she’d experienced moving through the landscape; the healing wrap of the balmy sea unthawing her of all stress and worry and inhibitions, the exhilarating cool of the trade winds that fingered and flowed through her pores and cleaned out all her regrets and grudges, and the magnificent lava fields that spread around her for miles and miles and miles – not a place of desolation and fear and sadness, but of gods and hope and promise and David.