Finola pulled out her handkerchief (how come girls always have a clean handkerchief?), and swiped it across her eyes. ‘He— He—’

Right then, Mum and Auntie Whina came out of the shoe shop across the road. They weren’t carrying any shopping bags, so maybe they’d decided on the gumboots after all. Auntie Whina saw her daughter crying on the opposite footpath and charged over to her, while cars slammed their brakes on.

Finola dragged in deep breaths and told her mother what had happened. ‘He told us to go to Wilson’s instead,’ Tipene said. My friend’s fists were still clenched. I heard Mum make a hissing sound through her teeth.

Auntie Whina held Finola’s hand. She’s shorter than Mum, but she seemed to have grown six inches taller. ‘We’re going to be very polite, darling.’ Then mother and daughter stalked into the milk bar, with the rest of us trailing behind.

The guy behind the counter glanced up, and his mouth opened. Auntie Whina strode to the counter and gazed at him for a second. She spoke in a voice so sweet, I hardly recognised it.

‘Good morning. I believe my daughter and son and their friend wanted a milkshake a few minutes ago, and you wouldn’t serve them. Is that right?’

The man’s head was down. He kept wiping the counter, which didn’t need wiping.

Auntie Whina waited a moment, then: ‘I think you owe them an apology. I’d like to hear it — now.’

The guy’s face twisted. He opened his mouth. Right then, my mother stepped forward so she stood beside Auntie Whina. ‘If you don’t apologise, I’ll write to the paper and ring the radio station. I’m sure they’ll be interested to hear what you did.’

The man’s cheeks were blotched with red. He muttered something. I think I heard the word ‘sorry’.

Auntie Whina’s eyes stayed fixed on him. ‘I suppose that feeble effort is all we’ll get from someone like you. Well, you’ll be sorrier still. None of my friends or my whanau — you’re probably too ignorant to know that word — will ever buy anything from here again.’

‘That goes for my friends and family, too,’ went Mum. The two women stood side by side; the guy scowled at the floor. ‘You’re going to lose dozens of customers,’ my mother went on. ‘You deserve it for being such a bigot. Wilson’s will make a fortune.’

She put an arm around Auntie Whina, who was still holding Finola’s hand. The three of them turned and strode from the milk bar. Tipene and I straggled after them. ‘Wow!’ my friend breathed to me. His eyes gleamed.

Yeah, I thought, really intelligently. Wow!