With signs, and Hahona’s English words and Aggie’s Maori words, we slowly understood. The greenstone bat, the pekapeka, is a great treasure. It keeps away evil, and gives strength to the person who wears it. If it were taken, that person and the whole tribe would grow weak and suffer.

‘Areta says they have lost other treasures,’ Aggie explained. ‘Some from fighting, some hidden in the — the water? The—?’ My sister turned to Hahona who had stopped crying, and stood clutching the silver bracelet in her hand. ‘Swamp’ went the Maori girl.

‘Swammup,’ repeated her mother, nodding until her glossy black hair bobbed.

‘That mucky old bit o’ land?’ My father stroked his beard. ‘I was planning tae drain that tae make new grazing for our cows. Would your folks mind, Hahona?’

It took more time to explain all this. Areta sat watching us, upright on her chair. When she understood, her eyes blazed again, and more Maori words poured out.

‘The swamp holds secrets,’ Aggie said, after she and Hahona had talked together still more, and I stood uselessly by. ‘Dear things are there. Treasures. Areta says it is … I think she means holy.’

I thought of that muddy bog with its flax and birds, and nearly laughed out loud. Father shook his head once at me, and I stopped. Mother was placing a mug of tea in Areta’s hands. Our fiery visitor bent her head, sniffed, sipped, exclaimed ‘Kah-pai!’

My father nodded to Hahona. ‘Will ye tell your mother that we will never touch the swamp. We know what holy land is; we have had tae leave ours far behind. Och, and tell her that you and Maggie wore each other’s treasures because you are like sisters.’

I saw the tears in my blind sister’s eyes, and felt shame at almost having laughed. Aggie leaned her fair head against Hahona’s dark one, and the two of them murmured together once more. They spoke to Areta, and as they did so the tattooed chin came up, and the Maori woman stood. She gazed at my father. Her head only reached his chest, but they were like two leaders facing each other. She took one of Father’s huge hands in both hers, pressed it to her heart for a moment. I couldn’t understand the words she spoke, but I could guess what they meant. My mother watched, smiling.

Father shook his head in an embarrassed kind of manner. ‘Och, it’s no’ a bother. It’ll make up for that time with the bagpipes.’

Now Aggie and Mother and I and little Janet did burst out laughing. Areta and her daughters looked startled, so I tucked an imaginary pair of pipes under my arm, and pretended to blow. ‘Whaaa-ooo!’ I went. Areta shrieked, and clamped her hands over her ears. Then she, Hahona and Ngaio were laughing, too.