There was a time that I’d heard about when land was fought over and died for. Peacetime arrangements were negotiated on its behalf. There was a more recent time I’d heard of when land and people were thriving. During this time there was an abundance of crops, of work, of workers, of land, of produce and overseas markets, but all this was interrupted by wars and laws and the pen.

The ‘pen’ was how Grandfather described various signings – land taken away by the tyranny of the pen. The pen was a personality of fierce omnipotence, a greedy chief of might and potency.

It was the pen which made his father, grandfather of my mother, one of only three lawful property owners of lands which in the lore of the people truly belonged to everyone – the lifeblood of an extensive group of kin.

Following those good days people became poor, lucky if some could get work cutting flax, or fencing and scrub-cutting on other men’s lands, or work on the railways or the making of roads.

For those of us who had been able to hold on to land, the dream was to amalgamate properties and give rights and lands back to all true inheritors, but it was a struggle. There was no market for anything we could produce, and no money for farm development. Grandfather had time to tell about these things because he smoked a pipe. That’s what I thought then. I didn’t think I’d ever be parted from any of it.

Moonface took fright when he saw me that evening. He didn’t like me at all when Ti brought him out in the half-dark to meet us. Mum handed Dad a tin of hot water and a lantern, which he took across the yard to the wash-shed for his bath. He got me to wash his back for him, and then we changed places. Moonface was happy with me once all the fire-black was removed.

My little brother’s cot had been given to one of our relatives across the creek and he slept with me now. He didn’t use nappies any more and had given up his titty bottle. Because he had become used to my coming and going, he didn’t set up such a wail every time I left. Now that he could walk and because he liked to play about in the wood chips, or the mud or the water, we didn’t use the cart so much, though sometimes he used it himself, wheeling sticks and stones or kittens or invisible companions.