wasn't a stranger anymore. That night, we had crayfish for tea. We didn't have a wash because Nanny said, ‘You mokopunas already clean enough,’ and we were glad. The crayfish was boiled in a big pot. Kara almost cried when she looked at them boiling. She came to me and whispered, ‘We're going to eat them alive! They're still waving their legs!’ But by the time the crayfish were cooked, they were very dead. Nanny showed us how to eat them, ripping off their legs, breaking them open and sucking the meat from them, and then gouging into the body with her fingers. ‘Put some of the brown stuff on the flesh,’ she suggested, indicating a thick brown paste inside the crayfish. So we did, and the crayfish was sweet. We really gorged ourselves, even Pare who usually didn't eat much. Nanny just laughed and was very pleased. ‘We'll soon put the meat on you kids,’ she said. After tea, Albert told me that the brown stuff was the crayfish's tutae. I told him not to tell lies. Kara helped with the dishes again and I offered too. But Uncle Pita said, ‘That's woman's work.’ I decided to tell Mum what he said when she got home, and maybe I wouldn't have to do the dishes any more. For a while, Uncle and I talked. I was curious about something and I asked him; ‘Uncle, why do we call you Uncle and Nanny, Nanny?’ He laughed. ‘A long story,’ he said. ‘Nanny and me were related before we got married!’ I tried not to blush. ‘It's like this, mokopuna,’ he began. ‘Nanny is my auntie.’ ‘She doesn't look older than you,’ I said. ‘She isn't, but she's still my auntie.’ ‘Isn't that naughty?’ I asked. Uncle's belly shook with laughter. ‘E tama, you're a funny one!’ Nanny came to see what was happening. Uncle told her. He winked at me. ‘Your Nanny was the naughty one,’ he said. ‘She was waiting for me in the bush and she led me astray!’ Nanny hit him and growled him in Maori. ‘Don't you listen to him,’ she told me, ‘He's a big liar.’ ‘So is Dad,’ I said. They laughed. Afterwards, we all sat by the fire, and George got his guitar. He had a good voice and he made that guitar sing. Uncle Pita had a smoke and Nanny had a pipe. Kara and the other girls went into the bedroom. The boys sat at the table, playing cards and yelling ‘Snap!’ Spot was eating a bone by the fire. The candle began to burn low. Pare got sleepy and Nanny picked her up and rocked her in her arms. ‘Time to go to bed,’ she said. ‘Put out the fire when you come, Pita,’ she added, and then trundled off to her room. I played cards with the boys for a while, and then we went to bed too. I kissed Uncle Pita on the forehead and he smiled. ‘Good night, mokopuna,’ he said. I followed Albert into bed and crawled into the middle. ‘We don't kiss our father,’ he told me. I was surprised, because we always kissed Dad. When I told Albert, he said, ‘I'm never coming to your house!’ He grinned and turned over and went to sleep. For a long time, I looked up at the ceiling. The fire from the kitchen flickered through the door. Then I heard Uncle Pita stamping about and the fire flickered away. Then there was no noise, only the swish, swish of the sea outside the house. My eyes were tired and I soon went to sleep. Pare didn't cry that night. The next morning, I woke early because I wanted to go with Hone to milk the cow. Nanny was still in bed, but Grace was in the kitchen lighting the fire. She grinned at me. ‘What you doing up?’ ‘I'm going with Hone,’ I said. I watched her as she bent and lit the fire, blowing at the small flame. Hone came in with a big load of wood which he dumped by the fire, and picked up the bucket. ‘Come on, coz,’ he said. I followed him and we walked down the path, past the toilet, and trudged through the field to the cow bail. Lottie was already waiting for us, and she mooed ‘About time you came.’ Hone patted her flanks and she walked into the bail. ‘Aren't you going to tie her leg?’ I asked. ‘No,’ Hone said, ‘she's a good cow.’ He got some grease and rubbed it on her teats. Then he began to milk her. Spurt, spurt, went the milk, foaming in the bucket. ‘You're full today, aren't you?’ Hone said to his cow. Lottie mooed again, and swung her eyes to look at me. ‘Do you always talk to the cow?’ I asked. ‘All the time, she likes it.’ So I began to talk to Lottie too, saying