This new object would not be used as a spud bag. It was a treasure and mustn’t be sold. It was so unique that it could only be given away. From that time on, whenever there was a gathering of people for a celebration, such as a wedding or a special birthday, Chappy’s baskets would be part of the gift-giving. The mothers would place him prominently as their group was called on to the marae, baskets hooked onto his arms. As gifts they were unmatched. They were referred to in speeches.

The next morning, her cart loaded with goods, Oriwia set out early, arriving at the bakery just after sunrise. Dulcie took the cakes from her and decided she would be the first customer for vegetables.

From there Oriwia led the horse across the road to the sheltered area in front of the railway station. Business was slow, but she kept reminding herself that even one sale, paid for in cash, was better than a day at the shop in which she might see a pair of boots walk out the door with money owing on them and that was all.

Sales increased over the next months, but eventually someone from the town authority, who said he was acting on behalf of complaining railway passengers, told her that she could no longer bring her wares to that site. It was a picnic area, not a commercial one.

‘Business was just picking up a little,’ she told Taana and Dorothea that afternoon. They took her to talk to Paa.

‘You know that chimney?’ the old man asked. He was talking about a stone chimney standing not far from the railway station, which was all that remained of his own parents’ house. When large tracts of land had been taken from people for a road, his father had refused to move. According to Paa, no one could shift him from it because they were all afraid of him. He had yellow eyes that caused those who dared look into them to fall face down on the ground. On falling they broke their teeth, broke their noses, got mouthfuls of stones and went crazy in the head.

Because of him, this portion of his property was not included in the grab, and the road had to be built around it. Instead the land was made part of the ‘tenths’ – the portion that the government had decided should be left to Maori when they took the other ninety per cent. Although this small pocket could have been leased to farmers for ninety-nine years with right of renewal, Paa’s father refused to allow it.

‘Go there,’ Paa said. ‘It’s a good spot.’

‘I’ll wipe your shop book clean,’ she said.

‘If you like.’