‘Get going!’ the guy yelled. ‘I’m not having troublemakers here!’

‘You stupid—’ I began. But Mum interrupted me. ‘In that case, you’d better stop making trouble.’ She stood gazing at the man. ‘This lady’s upset, and maybe hurt. Perhaps you’d like to help her?’

The guy took a step forward, then stopped. ‘I’m going to ring the cops. They’ll sort you bloody rabble out!’ He wheeled around, stalked off up the path towards his house.

‘I think the police have quite enough to deal with today.’ Nana Florence reached inside the bag Tipene was holding, brought something out, and nodded to the crying woman, who’d lifted her head and was trying to smile.

‘Here,’ went Nana Florence. ‘This’ll make you feel better.’ And towards the woman, she held out a … a cup of tea.

Ten minutes later, we were all at the cars. No broken windows or kicked-in doors, thank goodness. My side hurt from where that knee had rammed into me; I kept shaking. The others were unhurt, except for Grandad Matiu, who had a graze along one cheek. ‘Woman poked me with her umbrella, when she was pointing at that plane. Took her ten minutes to stop apologising.’

Other cars were pulling out and driving off. ‘Better not hang around too long,’ Uncle Mac said. ‘The game’ll be over any minute. Some of the pro-tour lot might be looking for a fight.’

‘They’ll be in a good mood,’ Robbie announced. We stared at him; he looked embarrassed, then pulled a little transistor radio from his jacket pocket. ‘Just heard the final score, actually. The All Blacks won.’

He and Uncle Mac were staying over on the far side of Auckland. While the adults said good-bye, he looked at me. ‘Might be coming over your way, Dad says. You’ve got a great-uncle or somebody who’s writing a book about your valley? Dad wants to try something like that for our place; he might drive across for a few tips. See you, eh?’

‘Yeah,’ I went, as we started getting into our cars. ‘See you.’ I closed the door, gave him a wave, and started trying to work out how I could meet him when he came.

We climbed into our bunks early that night. I had a big red patch on my ribs. One of my feet was sore, where somebody must have trodden on it. Nana Whina, Nana Florence and Grandad Matiu looked exhausted. Uncle Tipene kept rubbing the scar on his forehead. We all yawned as we talked.

But I still buzzed with excitement. I’d done something that I’d remember for ever. Other people would remember me. I gazed around at my sleepy family and friends, and thought how special they all were.