Her touch after those first stumbling wefts is surer than ever before, but the technique is servant to the inspiration. Sometimes she uses hukahuka in the form of tiny tassels and rare feathers. Sometimes she lets the pattern alone speak: here are aronui triangles in obvious symbolism, teitei for the peaks they had scaled, and the waves of the ocean are crested with fire. ‘Then the love of Aahua and Brendan came to an end. Not because either fell out of love, but because Ati came home and Brendan found him such an agreeable and sympathetic fellow, noble even—a feeling which was mutual—that he knew he could never bring himself to deal out a hurt to such a man … ‘See kaokao—the pattern of the armpits of the receding lover as he strides into the distance. And niko—the teeth of the pain that tore through her soul and body. Likewise papaka for the canker consuming her heart, and roimata, the tears she shed in secret, half-maddened with her anguish. ‘But she learns acceptance and must have practised philosophy for poutama exemplifies man's span of life in steps. Aahua has learned control and that she carries a child beneath her heart. ‘Brendan Lynwood returned to Auckland and the family business. He divorced his wife and married his secretary, happily enough it is said, though he never forgot Aahua of the nimble fingers. What he never knew was that Aahua's fifth child, a girl, born in October of that year, was much fairer than her brothers and reminded Ati of his English grandmother. ‘A new thread enters the tapestry—a tender metallic gold filament woven in with the flax to form a design of exquisite delicacy and grace. Here is a new life joined.’ ‘But it stops pretty soon. She surely never did away with the child?’ said orange hat. ‘Allie, she would never have done that. This woman is good through and through. In spite of her impulsive wild lawless love.’ ‘How right you are, Madam. Aahua was a loving mother to little Aho. And to her two younger sisters and to the four older boys. People of the district used the expression “a mother as good as Aahua” when they wished to praise a woman. ‘But when Aho was two years old, she learned to run away. She was always found playing by the pool Pungarehu. What strange fascination drew her there? She always came back to this same place even unto the day when she stretched out a small arm to pick a spray of berries hanging out over the water … ‘See: the full weft length of gold has been cut ready to complete the row, and another hangs knotted in and waiting. ‘Now Aahua has taken a few more lengths of gold and woven a tiny span of the traditional patikitiki-papaki-rango—this is the flax fan used to keep flies off a corpse—and then she sadly concealed the ball of golden yarn in her trinket box. Darkness reigns within her heart and in the twisted threads. ‘Now you will observe that for the first time she has prepared her own dyes as women did in days gone by. So the bright colours are muted but the black is deeper than ever for the yarn has been steeped in a mordant and then submerged in the black mud of the swamp. The last warps, loose and empty, await the weaver's hand.’ Margery wiped her eyes surreptitiously. ‘You must forgive me, ladies.’ His tone had changed. ‘There's my wife signalling madly at me from the door.’ On his feet, he pulled his hat from his pocket, bowed slightly, then turned on his heel and made for the entrance where the woman in the poncho waited with the two little girls. A large smiling lady bore down on the two women still sitting on the form. ‘Oh, how do you do? You're visitors, I think, and especially welcome.’ She shook them by the hand. ‘I'm Joan Adams, convenor of the Patumuka Crafts Club. ‘I see you're looking at the club's sampler. Everyone who's done the full year's course in tāniko weaving is encouraged to do a section on the sampler. Seven of us have had a hand in it so far. We'll have to start a new one soon. There's only room for a couple more.’ The women were speechless. ‘You're surprised how good we are! That was Mr Tinihanga you were talking to. His wife Aahua is our instructress.’