lights bobbing along the rough, muddy. track. Then all of a sudden, the track disappeared and we were at the edge of a cliff. Far below, we could see the sea, thundering against the rocks, white-tipped and angry. And on a small spit of sand, shone the lights of Nanny's place. ‘Here we are,’ Dad said. Pare started to cry again. ‘Tom! Is that you?’ a voice yelled. Dad yelled back. ‘Hang on a minute,’ the voice said. We looked down to the house and saw a man putting on his gumboots in the light of the doorway. He shouted in a strange language and a smaller shadow appeared from inside with a tilly lamp. The man took the lamp and we watched as it glided along the beach and started to climb up the cliff. We heard the man huffing and puffing and swearing when he slipped, and we clutched each other because he sounded just like the fee fi fo fum man. Then he was there, and he didn't look like a giant. But you could never tell. With him were some kids. They surveyed us curiously. They were wearing pyjamas, tucked into gumboots. ‘Tena koe, Tom!’ the man said. He shook Dad's hand and grinned at us. Then he shook our hands too, even Pare's. ‘Here, give that suitcase to Albert,’ he said. One of the kids took the suitcase. He was quite a bit bigger than I was. ‘Right! Let's go down to the house,’ the man said. He turned to us. ‘Come on, mokopunas, your Nanny been waiting for you all day.’ We followed him. Dad was carrying Pare because she was the smallest. Kara clutched tightly to his coat and I clutched Kara. Dad was speaking to the man, and every now and then they would both laugh and look at us. At the door, Kara and I bent down to take off our shoes. ‘E tama!’ the man laughed. ‘Leave them on, leave them on.’ But we still thought we'd better take them off. Nanny's children giggled and we were embarrassed. Then, suddenly, the light seemed to go out. We looked up, startled. ‘Tena koutou, mokopunas.’ It was Nanny Caroline and she was crying. She grabbed us to her and squeezed us. She was soft and very fat and she had a funny mouth because she didn't have any teeth. Then she held us away from her to have a good look at us. She mumbled something in Maori and then in English. ‘You kids look just like Julia.’ Julia was our mother's Pakeha name. She gave Dad a hongi and began to growl him for not bringing us earlier, speaking flat out in Maori and giving him playful smacks. We observed our Nanny carefully. She didn't seem old, not as old as we thought she would be. She looked a bit like Mum, except that she was fatter and didn't have nice brown hair. She did have a moko, and it looked very nice, all green and curly. Nanny ran her eyes over us, concernedly, and began to mumble something like, ‘You kids are skinny,’ and ‘Doesn't Julia feed these kids, Tom?’ and, ‘We'll soon put the beef on them.’ On an open fire was a big black pot. We clutched Dad tightly, and he whispered in Nanny's ear. She laughed and went to the pot and motioned us toward it. The children giggled. We went and had a look. Inside, was some kai. We were suddenly very hungry. I looked at Kara and grinned. She grinned back. We had a big feed then, on large tin plates filled with potatoes, mutton chops and some funny stuff we later found out was seaweed. Nanny piled our plates so full, that some of the food overflowed onto the table, but she didn't seem to mind. The children sat down with us. Kara asked for a knife and fork and the kids giggled. But Nanny said ‘Turi, turi,’ and told Grace, the biggest girl, to get us knives and forks. We were embarrassed then, especially when we saw the kids getting stuck in with their fingers, and Nanny and Uncle Pita and even our father slurping away at the seaweed. Every now and then, the kids would giggle and put their hands over their faces and look at us and giggle again. Afterwards, Nanny introduced us to the other children. Tamihana, the eldest, was nearly as big as Dad. Then came Grace, George, who was very shy, Albert, who'd carried my case, and Kararaina, a girl with huge eyes. Hone gave me a big grin, and Sid, who seemed about the same size as I was, smiled too. Kopua and Sally were younger. Sally looked smart. I was surprised when Kepa, who was four, came and stood by me and held my hand. Whiti, just a bit smaller, came over too, and held onto Kepa. Emere was crawling on the floor. It wasn't made of wood, just dirt. But Emere didn't seem to mind. She