I don’t know why he always slept sideways in our narrow bed. Each night my sisters bathed him and gave him his tea early so he wouldn’t drop off to sleep at the table. One of us would carry him to bed, putting him close to the wall, but when I went in later I’d find him lying crossways. I’d lift him and place him against the wall again, knowing that his head would be on my stomach by morning. I’d ease myself from under him or just scramble out and let his head flop. It made no difference. Nothing in the world woke him until he was ready to wake.

Once outside he waddled, he played, he talked his funny talk, he bit down on his front teeth and grinned up at the sky. Sometimes I rode round with him perched in front of me on the horse. Being on the horse gave us enough height to pick a handful of Christmas plums once they had ripened on the trees. He was a happy boy, a good boy and a great joy to all of us. He smiled on us in all his awake moments.

Ma Minnie died. My cousin Noddy said his mother just dropped carrying a billy of eggs. Our work was put aside for a few days while we gathered at the marae for the ceremonies. As usual I was expected to remain in the sleeping house with the elders, held by the ear, listening to all the speeches, whakapapa, waiata. That’s how it had been ever since I could remember.

It was afternoon when we arrived home, four days later, to an empty house. There had been no rain and there was little water in the tank, so I was sent to the spring for drinking water.

Though Moonface was tired after the long walk home, he wanted to come with me, and to show his determination picked up an empty billy to carry water in. The spring was a ferny hole in a large patch of swampy ground where chilled water bubbled up from some dark place.

As soon as we arrived, Moonface lay down among the fern and went to sleep. This meant I would have to fill the container, leave it there, carry my brother home and then come back for it. The day was getting on, the sun beginning its slide. Down at the edge of the spring I used the billy to fill the water tin.

Because the land round the spring was uneven, I wedged a piece of wood and a handful of dry fern under the tin to make sure it wouldn’t topple.

When I’d finished I turned to where my brother was sleeping, and he was gone. I stared at the indentations where he had lain. Nothing in my head was connecting with what I was looking at.