That slightly lighter stretch of grey cloud to one side had grown a bit by the time Tipene and I reached our farmhouse and started taking off our oilskins on the back porch. But the rain still fell. Our cows stood in the shelter of the remaining macrocarpas, slowly chewing their cud and looking thoughtful, like cows do.

We went down the hall to my room, past the photo of Great-aunt Jess wearing her MBE. It stands for Member of the British Empire, and it’s a flash medal on a flash ribbon that she got for helping poor people, ages and ages ago. She’d have been proud of what Mum and Auntie Whina did in the milk bar.

‘That you, boys?’ Mum called from the kitchen. ‘Come say hello to Nana and Grandad.’

She and my grandparents sat around the big table. Grandad Duncan’s axe handle leaned against his chair. He uses it as a walking stick when his leg hurts him. He reckons he’s got plans for the handle, whatever that means.

We talked while Tipene and I scoffed scones. ‘How’s the orchard looking?’ Grandad wanted to know. ‘Flood isn’t up that far, is it?’

We told him it wasn’t. Our family still picks fruit from his orchard, even though it’s easy to drive into town and get things now — especially since we’ve got one of those flash new grocery shops where you serve yourself. ‘I’m not leaving it all to those cheeky magpies,’ Grandad says.

Just to show it wasn’t finished, the rain crashed down again as we ate the last scones and headed to my room. We gave Great-aunt Jess (MBE)’s photo a pretend salute as we went past. When she visited us about four years ago, she and Nana Ahorangi went shopping in town for a posh dress. The shop had a snooty saleswoman who looked Tipene’s nana up and down, and asked ‘Is it for anything special?’

‘Yes,’ went Great-aunt Jess with a sweet smile. ‘My friend and I are meeting the Governor-General.’ The saleswoman’s mouth dropped open like a fish.

It was true. After World War Two, people in our valley got together and raised money to build a Memorial Hall to the men and women from around here who fought in the two world wars. Great-aunt Jess wrote to Government House in Wellington, saying it would be good if the Governor-General could come and open it. He did!

He was a tall bloke with a Pommy accent and a suit. Tipene and I felt a bit disappointed. We thought he might wear a robe and carry a sword or something. Our school did a special welcome and haka that Auntie Whina and Uncle Robert (should I call him that?) had taught us. And Nana Ahorangi wore her posh dress.