Anyway, like I was saying about a thousand pages back, we could be leaving the farm. By the time I got back home today, they’d have made up their minds.

All the adults were meeting at our place. I don’t think there’d been so many there since we watched the All Blacks win the World Cup (third time!). Mum and Dad, of course; Nana Ailsa; Great-uncle John and Great-aunt Kate; Uncle Sholto. Great-nana Beth lives in a flat in town now, but she was coming out. Grandad Robbie had Skyped, like I said.

My annoying little sister Meg had gone over to the marae for the day to be with her friend Mita, and I knew the olds didn’t want me there, in case there were any major arguments. So I said I was going down to the riverbed. Dad reckons everyone in our family goes down there when they need time out.

I crossed the home paddock towards the stile that takes you onto the road and bridge. Aunt Maggie was heading back this way when she was killed. Nana Ailsa walked the long way to the cemetery for ages; she couldn’t bear to be on that stretch of road.

I whacked the tops off a few thistles as I went. We haven’t had enough money to spray them this year, so I smash any I see. I found this stick a couple of weeks ago, down by the rocks where people swim — if the river hasn’t shifted. It makes a cool thistle-slayer.

That reminded me. (A lot of things seemed to be reminding me today.) One other thing almost went in the time capsule — it was the walking stick that our family’s had forever. It used to be part of an axe that almost cut my three-times-Great-grandad Duncan’s leg off, when he was clearing bush for the orchard. He nearly died. A long time later, Melody’s great-grandad carved it into this brilliant walking stick. Great-grandad Alan used it when he was old. When he died, not long before the capsule was buried, people talked about leaving the stick to be found in a hundred years. But — well, it was way too long for the capsule!

So our family gave it to the marae to keep. We all took it across. Melody and her Nana Marama and Marika and others welcomed us and sang. Oh man, Melody looked brilliant. Her grandad came from Vietnam as a refugee, and she’s got these amazing dark eyes and cheekbones.

Then Nana Ailsa said: ‘Our ancestor’s axe cut down your trees. In return, one of your ancestors turned this handle into a treasure. We hope it helps you shape the new life on your marae.’ I thought that was pretty brilliant, too.