‘Go and find out,’ she said. She too was packing, leaving for somewhere. ‘That’ll be something for you to do. And remember you’ve got to pull your weight. You have to work. Whatever they do, you do. You’ll find out what life’s all about. You’ll have to learn how to make their beds. Can’t just throw it all together, and there’s no one there with time to run round after you.’ But she didn’t sound upset, seemed to have forgiven me, excited that I was making this journey – which she had already made twice without us. ‘I wish I was coming with you,’ she said.

When I began thinking about what she’d said about finding out about my grandfather, I became interested by what I now saw ahead of me – an opportunity to piece bits of myself together.

But the story that follows is not about me. Even though I’ve been able to glean a personal history from it, it needn’t matter to anyone else who may read this, with the exception perhaps of my sister. There’s a much more interesting story than one of a spoilt brat with his own bank account who had to try and kill himself in order to draw attention to his … His what? His suffering?

Forget it.

Anyway I’m exaggerating. I didn’t want to kill myself, only wanted something to happen. I’ve never wanted to die, only to live.

When I began the interviews with Grandmother Oriwia and a doubly adopted uncle known as Aki, I didn’t intend putting them together as a book. All I wanted to do was set down family stories that I could share with my mother and sister. I thought that asking our grandmother about the man known as Chappy would be a good place to start.

‘Your grandfather?’ she said. ‘If you want to know about your grandfather there’s a lot I can tell you. Also there’s a lot I can’t tell you. My husband was always a mystery to me.’

We were sitting in the garden facing the house, which was built of wood with a low-pitched, corrugated-iron roof painted red, two windows either side of a front door, and creamy-yellow walls with green facings – all a little faded.

One of the things that had made an impression on me when landing in this country was how colourful the houses are. I like the idea that home owners can build their houses in any style they like and paint them any colour they choose. There’s freedom in that. On my first day it was the house, more than the garden, which drew my attention.

‘Anyway, the best place for you to begin would be to go and talk to Aki, your uncle by double adoption,’ my grandmother said. ‘If it wasn’t for him …’