The centre of Queenstown still bore witness to the parties that had rampaged through it on New Year’s Eve. Bonnie took hold of Tui’s hand as they weaved in and out of high-spirited tourists and hopped over a discarded pink cowboy hat. Having left England in such a hurry, Bonnie had forgotten the promised new shoes for Tui, so they were going to choose her some now.

‘What colour are you thinking?’ she asked her daughter, as they stared at row upon row of trainers, sandals, flip-flops and boots. Tui’s forehead was furrowed in concentration – this was not a decision to be taken lightly.

‘Red,’ she announced. Then, catching sight of an ultra-shiny brogue, ‘Or silver.’

‘How about all the colours of the rainbow?’ suggested Bonnie, holding up a particularly eccentric wellington boot.

Tui nodded solemnly.

‘I don’t think so, no.’

‘Maybe not the right shoes for school,’ agreed Bonnie, grinning as Tui dissolved into bellows of deep, throaty laughter.

‘I think these,’ she said, surprising Bonnie by selecting a rather sensible blue pair with a good sturdy heel and neat set of gold buckles. ‘The same as Evangeline’s shoes in my books.’

‘Oh, yes!’ Bonnie was enchanted. ‘So they are – aren’t you clever?’

Tui had knelt down to examine the display shoe, her hands twisting together with excitement on her lap.

‘Come on.’ Bonnie ushered her to her feet. ‘Let’s try them on, shall we?’

When the assistant had returned with a fresh new pair in a box, however, Tui started to fret, her moans growing louder as the man attempted to slide one on.

‘What’s the matter, darling?’ Bonnie was unconcerned. Tui often communicated her dislike of things through sounds rather than words as she searched for the right ones to use.

‘I hate my school, that’s all,’ she announced, her voice shrill.

The assistant, who was now struggling to work the buckle, glanced up at her and smiled.

‘You absolutely don’t hate school,’ Bonnie reminded her. ‘You love it.’

Tui bit down on her own hand, her temper now on the verge of making a full-blown appearance, but Bonnie, who was well accustomed to such displays, merely laughed it off.

‘Why do you hate school, Tui?’ she asked gently. ‘Is it because Beavis can’t go with you?’

‘No.’

‘Is it because you’ll miss Mummy?’

‘No,’ Tui said, sounding calmer. The assistant had valiantly got one shoe on, and was now pulling scrunched-up bits of paper out of the other.

‘Oh, I know!’ Bonnie slapped a hand against her head. ‘It’s because you’ll miss Genie?’

‘I love her so much,’ Tui whined. ‘I want her to live with us in Kit’s room.’

Bonnie pulled her daughter against her in a half-hug.