We laughed and clapped. The rows of marchers were edging forward, trying to get a better view of what was happening. Up ahead, by the skips and barbed wire, signs waved and fists pumped the air. The Patu Squad’s crash helmets surged at the blue lines of police. A wooden shield sent a blue helmet flying. The megaphone snapped more orders.

At the front, bodies from both sides suddenly charged hard together. Invisible hands seemed to clutch the two sides and sweep them against each other. The Patu Squad lunged forward; the police flung them back. Long batons jabbed and swung. A crash helmet skittered along the ground. Someone in a blue jacket doubled over and sagged to their knees.

‘Oh, be careful!’ Nana Florence gasped. She and Mum grasped at each other. Finola gripped Nana Whina’s hand.

A figure in the Patu Squad lifted their sign and swung it at the police officer opposite. More wooden shields barged forward. Next second, batons were crashing down on them. A hand held my arm: Robbie, straining to see what was happening among the milling figures ahead.

Around the huge rubbish skips, in front of the barbed wire, arms flailed and bodies rammed into one another. A stick or something whacked into a policeman’s side, and he reeled away, clutching at his ribs. The plane snarled overhead; another load of flour bombs and then flares plunged down onto the invisible playing field.

Dad and Tipene had their arms around the two Nanas. Uncle Mac and Grandad Matiu were talking urgently to each other, peering back the way we’d come.

A surge heaved through the whole crowd of demonstrators. Bodies lurched, cannoned into others. Figures fell, dragging others down with them. People nearby tried to keep clear; some of them tripped and toppled over as well. Shouts and screams rang out. I was flung up against Robbie, and the breath whooshed out of me. My part-cousin held me harder. My heart was thumping.

Another surge. More yelling and screaming. Robbie and I collided with his father; grabbed at him. I glimpsed police batons swinging. Fence pickets and signs cracked down at the blue uniforms.

An even fiercer heave drove through the crowd. Helmets barged towards us — crash helmets, police helmets, figures underneath them wrestling and scrambling. Faces shouted and snarled. Mouths gaped open in fear.

Somebody’s shoulder slammed into me, and I sprawled sideways. Robbie’s hand slipped from my arm. Next minute, I was on the ground. I heard myself wail ‘No! Please!’ All around me, kicks and punches flew. Someone’s knee smacked against my side as I crouched, and I cried out.