Dorothea and Grandmother Nunu were one each side of Chappy, holding an arm each. Oriwia wondered how he felt about that, and wasn’t sure how he took to being left behind. He thought he would be accompanying his friends, that this would be the end of his stay. But since Aki had explained Chappy’s situation, the women wouldn’t let him go. Chappy spread his hands towards them. Empty. He was a man who had nothing.

‘Hands,’ Dorothea said. ‘We can all work. Hands.’ She grabbed his, held them. Poor Chappy. ‘Work’s the most important thing.’

One evening, when Oriwia was collecting eggs from Dorothea, she went into the house to shelter from the rain. The downpour cooled the air but, because the stove fire was going and the heat of the day still circled in the kitchen, Dorothea had opened out the door and windows. Moths came in, dizzying themselves round the lamps and candles. They were followed by a whirring swarm of clumsy huhu, also attracted by the light, hurtling in as though they’d been thrown. They crash-landed against the walls, buckling their long feelers and knocking themselves silly. One of these dizzy beetles landed in Chappy’s hair. He flinched and tried to brush it away, but it was caught there by its jointed antennae.

Grandmother Nunu reached, put her hand over the beetle and removed it from Chappy’s head, receiving a nip on her finger for her trouble. She placed it on the windowsill.

Because these were the first huhu seen this summer season, conversation stopped for a moment. Everyone waited to see what Grandmother Nunu would have to say to this envoy. They were eager to find out what she believed significant about the singling out of Chappy.

‘Come in, come in,’ she said. ‘So you come to welcome our visitor? So you grab him by the hair and fix him here in this kitchen, in this family, in this place? So, you’re telling us this is his whānau now? All right, all right, we believe you.’ She waved her nipped finger at them and everyone laughed.

Conversation began again as people attempted to convey this message to Chappy who, though he didn’t understand, smiled and nodded his head. Dorothea and Grandmother Nunu ladled food onto plates and passed them from the stove to the table. It was then that they heard Chappy speak his first word of their language.

‘Kai,’ he said.

Though the word seemed to be sung from somewhere in his head, it was instantly recognised. What a shout went up. There was back-patting and words of congratulation, after which Chappy was taught another word. Dorothea placed a cup of water by him.

‘Wai,’ she said.

Food and water. Every day he added to his vocabulary and was soon stringing words together.