Builders of New Zealand : and other stories

Abstract

The day my aunty busted her leg, the engine of my yellow hatchback seized up, and I ended up on a bus to Auckland. I'd hardly seen my aunty since I'd come back from the mines. She'd hurt herself, believe it or not, falling out of a tree. "What are you doing climbing trees, Aunty Maria?" I asked when she called from the hospital for mum. "You must be 60!" Her answer was curt, as is her way: "Mind your own business, Dickey Bird." (My name's Richard). "I need some clothes and something to eat," she ordered, and I obeyed her, which is what people generally did.