an excuse, and he couldn't think of one. He'd opened his big mouth too much in the first few days he had been back about what he was going to do on the family land. He suggested they buy a tractor—he almost had enough money to buy a second-hand one—and employ labour to work on the plantation for wages instead of the family doing it. But no, the old ways were the best ways. And they expected him to be out labouring in the hot sun. But he was a thinker, not a labourer. Home was nothing at all like he had anticipated. All the boys he had grown up with were married or had emigrated, and the girls were so young and naive, not like the girls in New Zealand. They didn't wear lipstick and scent, except on Friday nights to go to the dance. He'd had a Samoan girl friend in New Zealand and he remembered her now with affection. But he'd always had a hankering to marry a girl from his own island. But perhaps he should have stayed in New Zealand to do that. The island girls all seemed to have gone to New Zealand to work as waitresses and maids in hotels and in the kitchens and laundries of hospitals. He tried to get a little more comfortable on the hard ground. He'd like a cup of tea now. He had got used to it at this time of the day, but making tea here meant lighting a fire and boiling a tin of water, and it was too much trouble. If they had electricity he would be able to put on the electric jug, but there was no electricity in the village. There was no water either. They had a tank which was filled from the rain off the roof, but it hadn't rained for two weeks, and it was empty, and his mother or sister carried water from the big village tank. How casually he had treated his nightly showers when he had come off the assembly line before he changed into his good clothes and went down the road for a beer. People in New Zealand didn't realise how lucky they were, and he hadn't realised how he would miss a simple thing like a shower. And he was growing a beard because his electric razor was useless in this village. It was just as well he had not brought an electric guitar back. That would have been useless here too. He strummed the strings gently so as not to disturb the old man, though his father would rise soon after a short rest and go down to the bananas and work there until sunset. He'd forgotten how hard life was on the island. It was so hot a cold beer would be even better than a cup of tea, but there were no bars on the island, and he'd have to cycle into the main village to buy some and bring it home to drink it. And it would be warm beer because they had no refrigerator to cool it. He struck a loud chord and his father stirred. But there was an even louder noise approaching. He watched the ancient truck belonging to Tamati of the village store chugging across the grass towards the house, coughing and spluttering because it wasn't firing on all its cylinders. It had no bonnet, and a thin trickle of steam issued from the overheated radiator. The sagging rusted body leaned to the left because its springs were broken. He thought wistfully of the smart new cars he had worked on. The truck shuddered to a stop and his father woke. Tamati and his father greeted each other courteously. Then his father called him. ‘Tamati would like you to have a look at the engine of his truck which is not going very good. Tevita.’ Tevita sat up. ‘I do not know very much about engines,’ he said. ‘I have told everybody that my son knows everything about engines,’ his father replied softly. ‘In New Zealand he made cars.’ ‘I only worked in a factory where they were made. My speciality was bolting on bumper-bars.’ He looked at the bumperless truck. ‘But my speciality would not be of much use here.’ And he smiled. But the joke went flat, like everything had since he had come home. ‘Perhaps you could have a look at it,’ Tamati said. ‘There is nobody in the village except you.’ ‘The garage in town?’ ‘It is a long way and the truck is not going very good.’ Tevita got up reluctantly and inspected the oil and dirt covered engine. He poked and prodded, but he didn't know anything about engines. In the factory they came complete and were put in and were staried and they went. He shook his head. ‘It wants a mechanic.’