It would be good to get back to Te Kohatu for a while—blow being a “townie” all the time. Sickening! Charlie came back later in the evening; they wheeled him in and surrounded his bed with screens. Boy tried to have a look but couldn't see him. He asked Nurse Saunders when she took his temp. that night. “How's Mr Beeman?” “Sound asleep but fit as a fiddle. Took it like a lion he did. Should be going out soon. You too if you'll keep these blankets around your shoulders.” You know nurse I could have earned £15 if I hadn't been here.” “All you people think about is money. It's not everything you know.” “It helps a lot though.” About midnight Charlie woke up with a start. Everything was quiet in the ward. Boy was asleep “Boy! Wake up!” “Huh, what's up?” “I had a real queer dream just now; sorta frightened me. Funny that we were talking about them this morning.” “What was it about?” “Caterpillar was crawling out of someone's eye—lady's.” “Her eye?” “Yeah, and right down her face.” “Help what a dream!” “Queer alright. I always seem to have funny dreams when I'm a bit crook.”

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Charlie lay on his back, his blue eyes staring blankly at the shadows on the ceiling. Only the snores of fellow patients broke the rare silence. Bit spooky at night in that place. “You know Boy as soon as I'm better I'm leaving this town and heading back across the hills to Mariu. I'd like to finish off my days there.” “I had the same idea myself.” “Good on you. I'll make a point of going up to Te Kohatu to see you. Why are you going back, I thought it was too dead there?” “I don't know I'm just sick of the town. I want to see all the people back there—Katie and Joe and Murray and Sam. I'm beginning to miss them a bit.” “Yeah I suppose so. As for me I think it's the life I miss. So different—almost another world, untouched by the hardness of this side. I'm going back there for certain soon.” Boy turned over and was soon asleep. Charlie dosed, neither awake nor asleep. Yes he was sure going back soon. Blow this place! Mariu—the village where he had been brought up as a lone Pakeha among Maori friends. This place he loved more than any other—his skin was white—so what? He felt like a Maori, they treated him like one and he had made so many brown friends. Times there were good to look back at. They had weeded kumara together, milked cows, baled hay, shorn sheep and done a thousand things. He could see it all—there were the kids playing down at the beach—laughing with each other, no clothes on, there was the gang at the shed, guitar going, women and kids working alongside hefty husbands and fathers—all singing; a tui was singing its own song on a golden kowhai tree; a hangi was being opened while crowds stood around the treasured rocks catching that special smell. This was Mariu, this was his life. Now he was walking over to the meeting house. Three old Kuias were sitting contentedly on the veranda smoking pipes. Sitting on a hard form they were, talking the day away. Charlie walked over to them, held out his hand and was greeted with a hongi. He stood beside them and entered in the conversation. He was back at last. Next morning two nurses wheeled Charlie Beeman out. Boy never spoke—so quickly; one minute alive, the next dead. Just like that. “Some old chaps are like that,” said Nurse Saunders, “just can't take the strain of an operation.” Not many chaps like Charlie. One in a million he was, a real beaut. Boy knew he was going to miss him while he was in hospital but he would be out soon and back at Te Kohatu. A pity Charlie couldn't be there too although somehow he would be there, everyone there was like Charlie. That friendly simple type that was born on the other side of the hills would always be the same. Always? Boy hoped so. A week later the bus stopped outside the small Te Kohatu hall. Boy stepped out onto the gravel road—no bag in his hand. He had returned.