house to serve behind the counter she felt ashamed. ‘You ought to be proud of yourself,’ she told herself sternly. For after all, had she not come full circle, standing here on this side of the stall? Once her mother had clothed her from just such a sale. Warm the voices in the thick air, the little fellas underfoot, the women with their baskets full, laughing in a corner, sharing a friendly smoke, glancing now and then in her direction, from under their eyelids. It was too much to bear. That day she went home for morning tea with someone. Tea and scones, and she never went home till late that night, even though Mrs Allen had an Institute meeting that afternoon. She never went back to the mothers' club. Now she knew who she was again, but Robbie didn't recognise the old Roimata in strange surroundings. Now she was no one in his company but at least she had somewhere to be herself. Some days she would go to the hotel with her mates, and that got back to the Allens. It made Roimata mad the way she saw some of the sly Pakeha matrons slipping into the private bars in the afternoon. At night they would go home and cover themselves by saying to their husbands, ‘So and so and I just slipped into the hotel today for a bit of a giggle, and on the way, would you believe, we saw that poor Mrs Allen's daughter-in-law in the public bar.’ But wouldn't they be just as flushed and loud and silly when they came out of there as anyone! Poor Mrs Allen. Maybe she was. Roimata's face softened. You couldn't blame her altogether. There were lots of times when she looked tired and grey with all that minding of the kids. It would have been hard work for her with Debbie and Daniel since she left too, but at least, she, Roimata, the great big bone of contention, was out of it. Roimata hoped her mother-in-law wasn't too tired. Soon the kids would be off her hands though, now that she was back on her feet. Time to go in now. Clumsy with all the parcels to collect, Roimata got to her feet. At the gate she hesitated, but then she heard a child's voice and she ran up the steps. Mrs Allen was having a pick-me-up cup of tea when she went into the kitchen. The cup slopped sideways in the older woman's hand. She uttered a harsh inarticulate cry. ‘What do you think you're doing here?’ she said finally. But already Roimata was on her knees gathering up her children, crying, face pressed into the curves of their necks kissing every exposed piece of honey-coloured skin. Around her lay the parcels in confusion. Shrilly Mrs Allen cried out again, ‘What do you think you're at, walking into my house?’ The children at the sound of her voice cowered away from their mother, clinging fearfully to the legs of the table. Kneeling there, Roimata looked down at her empty hands. ‘I've come back — Mother,’ she said, with the familiar difficulty over that last word, trying desperately to bridge the gap. ‘I can see that.’ As she got up off the floor, Roimata said, ‘I've brought the children their Christmas presents. Theyre early but — gee, I wanted them to have them, you know. Couldn't wait.’ ‘Presents?’ There was scorn in her mother-in-law's voice now. ‘Presents you say. Look at you, dirty and filthy, you come into my house with presents and expect me to take you back. Presents don't always make you friends.’ ‘I don't want to come back. I've come to get the children. I'm okay now. I've got plenty of money, an' somewhere to take them. It'll be all right. You can have a rest now. You'd like that, wouldn't you?’ Mrs Allen stood wondering at the girl. ‘Take them away? You can't take them away. Don't you know that?’ ‘They're mine.’ ‘No they're not. They're Robbie's.’ ‘Robbie's? Oh no you can't do that. Me, I'm their Mummy.’ ‘They're Robbie's I tell you.’ And triumphantly, ‘The Court says they're Robbie's.’ ‘Court?’ ‘Didn't you get the letter from the lawyer?’ ‘I haven't had no letters. Oh — we moved round a couple places. Probably missed me.’