Near to the end of the circuit of speeches in the wharenui that day, there was a commotion at the door. It was Noddy, screaming the devil’s name into the house, kicking off his boots to come in, chopping down hard with his hands as if defleecing a slaughtered sheep. His eyes were fireballs. His bare chest was quivering and sweat ran down his dark skin as though he had become molten. My father, who was seated near the door, and Noddy’s sister who had come running after him, took an arm each, turned him and led him away. He calmed down once hands were on him.

After they had gone, the mihimihi in the house continued. During the course of these remaining speeches, and for the sake of visitors, Noddy’s plight was explained.

The next day, after the marriage ceremony, everyone was assembled in the marquee to sing the bridal party to their seats at the main table. The sides and ends of the tent had been done out in ponga fronds and flowers, the tables were covered with white cloths. As we seated ourselves, a chain of helpers was formed, and bowls of food were handed along from the outside cooking tents to be placed on the tables. There was everything you could think of in the way of food. Noddy was one of those who had been out back all morning helping to put the hāngi down, and I know he would’ve been there helping to unearth it and carry the baskets to the tents where the food was served into bowls.

The meal was interspersed with speeches, and it was when Chappy stood, as father of the bride, that there was another incident.

Chappy had just begun to speak when Noddy stepped in through one of the marquee openings behind our table. He put his hands round Chappy’s neck, throttling him. It took all my strength to prise his fingers away. Once I’d done that, I wrapped my arms around Noddy so tight that he couldn’t move, and talked him down. Instead of taking him out or allowing him to be taken away, I called for a chair and sat him down beside me.

In the meantime Chappy was having a drink of water while my mother and Oriwia fanned him and frowned into his face. He was pale and there were marks on his neck, but after a while he stood and continued: As I was saying, he said. At this there were barks and whoops and tin-pans of laughter. The marquee billowed with it as I wiped tears, sweat, ash from Noddy’s face and put food on a plate for him. He picked away at it.