‘It was a Christmas cake. I’d spent hours on it, but just as well he didn’t remember it. It was a show-off cake.’

There had been gift-giving going on between the two families ever since Aki had made his engagement to Ela known – even before that. Gift-giving stakes had been raised over the time, whether the exchange was in shell necklets, paua ornaments, foodstuffs, lotions and potions, statuettes, cloth, pictures or mirrors.

The cake, now that Oriwia thought back on it, was not given with love but in order to impress. It was a wedding cake recipe, the size of a bottom tier. With the help of Dulcie, who was teaching her the art of cake decoration, she iced the top and sides, then began to decorate it with everything she had been taught. There were rosebuds and full-blown roses, lace and trellis and bells – which Dulcie had tried to talk her out of. ‘There could have been red berries, green leaves and greetings. Christmassy. Joyful. There could have been kiwi birds and fernery, fish and butterflies, if there’d been more love,’ she said. It seemed important for Oriwia to admit all this. ‘The cake was meant to out-rival any gift the Hawaiians had ever given, as if to somehow show what Aki had given up for love.’

Oriwia was quiet for a while as she rolled out the pastry. Thinking we’d done enough talking for the day, I put my pen and notebook down so I could help her.

‘We went to a tearoom in Cuba Street,’ she said. It took me a moment to realise she was still talking about Aki and wartime. Oriwia had not been into a place like that before. There was such a display of large and small cakes, slices, marshmallow, marzipan, nougat and novelties that it hurt her eyes. That’s how she put it. There were small glass-topped tables and white china, metal jugs, sugar bowls, and teapots in two sizes so that customers could order tea for one or tea for two. There were individual strainers supplied for separating tealeaves. Chatter and light laughter of women dressed for a day in town.

Ever since that day she’d known she wanted to be the owner of a tearoom. Not in Wellington ‘or any posh place like that’, but in her home town where people knew her. It was years later that she set about making this dream a reality.

Chapter 17

Aki

‘His chest is caved in, his breathing shallow and he’s the width of a rail,’ I said to Ishy on my return to Hawai‘i. ‘But I couldn’t persuade him … says he has to stay there and build Tokyo.’