‘It’s marvellous,’ I said, and truly meant it. I could see that my grandmother was proud of her efforts. Taking one of her cakes or a tray of biscuits from the oven always gives her satisfaction and a moment of pride; that is, of course, unless there happens to be some little element that doesn’t please her with the bake. Then she will complain that it could have done with this, that or the other. But as she handed me the written piece I detected more than satisfaction and pride. She was excited by what she had done.

‘Aki can go on from there,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but before he does there are a couple of things I’m curious about. Maybe you can tell me: who is Moonface? And what was that about sorrow?’

‘Moonface, Moonface,’ my grandmother said. ‘It was a name people gave to his little brother because of something Aki said at the time of the little one’s birth. People converted what Aki had said into English, because it was funnier in English. Also it was easier to run two English words together than to repeat a much longer phrase in Māori. For once it was English that slid more easily from between people’s lips. It was a fonder, sweeter expression somehow. Marama was his real name.

‘Now that you mention it, what comes to mind is something Chappy told me. It was to do with what the ghost saw, the ghose, the liddle Chap, on the night aboard ship when his eye met with the eyes of brother Aki. According to Chappy, on the moonlit night of shadows when Aki walked the decks, the dark shape of a giant appeared and eyed him, too late for the ghost to hide himself. But the ghost slid himself down, out of sight. He watched in fear as the giant passed by. He saw that this creature was a large man, given extra height by a child he carried on his shoulders. Later, after the placement of water and food, Chappy, who had been contemplating going overboard, knew that he owed it to the giant and the child to survive.

‘Also, at the end of the journey he believed he owed it to the giant, the child and the cocoa man to dress and mingle and ghost his way to the city memorial, which he did, unchallenged.

‘As for sorrow. Yes, it’s right isn’t it? The word “sorrow” strikes. It hits much more than the word “happiness” does. You can’t allow a word like “sorrow” to pass by without wanting to know.