The women were taking off their hats, so she did too, the long spotted scarf trailing on the ground. Piri turned to her. She thought he'd forgotten her, and maybe he had for a moment, but he wanted her back now. ‘I want to show you something,’ he said. ‘The women have to set out the food now, and that'll take a while.’ Leading her by the hand, past the crowds, he took her along the hillside to where it gently sloped backwards from the pa, towards level ground. A small cemetery lay amongst trees and bushes gone wild but beautiful, but the graves had been tended recently. He led her straight to a grey, moss encrusted tombstone, with a bent iron railing round it. ‘My gran,’ he said. She held his hand tight. Behind them, a voice said quietly, ‘Her favourite mokopuna. It is Piri Te Piki?’ The man who'd spoken was ageing, with white hair standing out over his ears. Piri nodded. The man held out his hand. ‘I'm your second cousin. Eru Te Piki.’ Piri hesitated, and put out his hand to clasp the cousin's. Eru held it firmly and placed his other over the top. ‘I followed you here. You were too like my cousin not to be his son.’ Sally saw Piri glance self-consciously at their ultra-smart city outfits. ‘You recognized me. But I was only a little boy when I left.’ ‘You're your father's son.’ ‘Now I remember you, too,’ said Piri. ‘Why didn't you come back to us?’ Eru asked him. Piri nodded at the grave. ‘Who to? She'd gone. They tell me it was a bad year here, a lot had gone away—the welfare didn't know who to send me back to …’ Eru nodded. ‘I remember, I was away on a fishing boat that year.’ He shook his head. ‘A pity.’ He looked at Sally. ‘Your wife?’ He watched Piri looking at her, and inside her went cold, and suddenly shy. She wondered for an instant if her husband was ashamed of her. He smiled and took her hand. ‘This is Sally. It was her that made me come back,’ he said proudly. Eru smiled warmly. ‘She's very pretty, man,’ he said softly. Then with briskness, ‘Now come along, time for kai,’ and together they walked back to the dining hall and the extra tents that had been set up outside. ‘See you later,’ Eru called to them, when they'd found somewhere to sit. ‘You got to meet my wife, but she's busy with the hangi now.’ Grace was said, and soon the food arrived on paper plates. Around them, people were glancing at the young Te Pikis. It looked like word was getting around already, but meanwhile it was time to eat. Talking could come later. Sally's plate was placed on the edge of the trestle table, in front of her. She looked at the food and her stomach turned over. There was green wet vegetable lying slackly on one side of the plate, a disintegrating potato, and mutton floating in grease. She looked at Piri who was halfway through his food already. ‘Maori bread. Whoa!’ he exclaimed. ‘Here.’ He passed her a plate of it and she took a piece. ‘Hey, what's the matter?’ he mumbled, his mouth half-full. ‘Don't talk with food in your mouth,’ she snapped. ‘Eh?’ ‘I'm sorry, I'm not very hungry, to tell you the truth.’ She bit the bread tentatively. To her it had a sour taste. The meal before her was cooling rapidly, the fat congealing. ‘Eat it,’ said Piri. ‘They'll think you don't like it.’ She picked up a forkful, and her stomach heaved towards her mouth. She put the fork down miserably. ‘Piri, no one'll notice will they? I truly can't eat it—I'm sorry.’ ‘Don't then.’ They waited in silence till everyone had finished and was beginning to leave the tables. Piri pushed back the wooden form they'd been sitting on, and sarted walking. She followed him, trailing her smart hat behind her. They got to the car and Piri unlocked it. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked. ‘Home.’ He slammed the door shut and crashed into reverse not caring so much this time whether he hit anything or not. They drove back to the city, very fast, in cold silence, broken only once when Piri said to