They'd been sitting in the kitchen, Hema, Janey and Mum. Uncle Pera was not yet home. Mum had wanted them to hurry up with their kai, because she and Uncle Pera were going out that night. Then Uncle Pera had arrived, and he'd been angry that Mum wasn't ready. ‘Why don't you go out yourself!’ Hema had yelled. ‘Why don't you go and don't come back.’ ‘Hema!’ Mum had yelled. ‘She doesn't want you,’ he continued. ‘We don't want you either, Janey and me. Go away.’ But Mum had not understood. She hadn't seen her son's rage, his tears; only this other man. ‘Get out!’ she'd screamed at Hema. ‘Go and sulk in your own room.’ ‘No!’ ‘Do as your mother says,’ Uncle Pera had said. And Hema had faced this man and answered: ‘I don't take orders from you. You're not my father. And you,’ he'd said, looking at his mother, ‘you're not my mother either.’ Uncle Pera had grabbed him and pulled him along the corridor to his room. He'd shut the door, grabbed a belt. Afterwards, Hema wept. And Mum had come in and whispered to him. ‘Don't interfere, son. You only get hurt.’ She'd reached out to caress him, but he'd turned away from her. After they'd gone, Janey had come and crawled beside him. ‘Don't you cry, Hema,’ she'd whispered. ‘Hema, don't you cry.’ Hema sighed, and the wind carried his sigh across the deserted platform. His movement disturbed Janey as she was sleeping, buttoned up in his long coat. ‘What's the time, Hema?’ she asked. ‘It's very late,’ he answered. He hushed her and told her to go back to sleep, but she roused herself. ‘I'm cold,’ she whispered. He smiled at her, and cuddled her against his warmth. They sat like this for a long time; watched the flood of people become a trickle as the night had waned. Now, they were almost alone. Only a few others remained on the platform: a young girl and her boyfriend, an old man, and themselves, all derelict in the night. A cold wind was blowing, and Janey shivered and moved closer into the warmth of her brother, hiding her eyes beneath the coat, away from the glare of the platform lights. By now, Hema thought, Mum and Uncle Pera would be home. He wondered if he and Janey would be missed yet. Maybe Mum had gone straight to bed. It had been a long time since she had looked in to see them after returning home. But then, maybe, just this one time, she might look … might open the door upon an empty bed, not slept in. What would she do? Would she worry about them, or would she just simply shut the door again. And what was he to do now? That was a big question which weighed heavily upon his small shoulders. If he'd been alone, he wouldn't have minded sleeping out. But he had Janey to look after, now and always. Always he would look after her. Always. He was her big brother, she was his little sister. Janey stirred again. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at her brother. ‘We'll have to go back, won't we … ‘ she whispered. Hema nodded. There seemed nothing else to do, but just go back. To Mum. To Uncle Pera. ‘We'll get a hiding, ay.’ his sister continued. Hema smiled. ‘I suppose we will.’ ‘I don't care, anyway,’ Janey sniffed. ‘We go now?’ ‘No, not yet,’ he told his sister. ‘We just stay here for a little while longer.’ If they did, then maybe their mother would find them here and understand. If she looked for them, she'd find them. They'd be waiting. And Janey snuggled close again, into him. ‘Wake me when she comes,’ she said. ‘I will,’ he promised. ‘And if she doesn't,’ his sister continued, ‘you won't leave me here, will you … You won't leave me, ay.’ ‘No, I'll never leave you,’ Hema said.