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sturdy little body was tense in her arms.   Verity rubbed her back tenderly.   “What’s troubling you, kitten?”
    After a moment’s resistance, Aroha relaxed into the warmth of her embrace.   “You’re late tonight.”
    Verity knew that wasn’t what was bothering her daughter.   The nature of her work meant that the odd late night was inevitable, and Aroha had never been upset by the small change in her routine before .   “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I had to see a patient who lived out of town.”
    Aroha shrugged, her mind clearly elsewhere.   “It doesn’t matter.”
    “So, what’s troubling you then?”
    There was silence for a moment.   Then Aroha spoke in a small voice.   “Who was my father?”
    Verity felt her insides turn over.   Aroha had asked her that question before, but never in such a serious tone.   Usually the question was a hidden plea for her to make up a fantastical story for the two of them to laugh over.   Today, she sensed, was somehow different.  
    “Ah, you know the story,” she said, desperately falling back on one of the tales she had made up for the occasion.   “Your father---” She broke off with a sigh.   “Your father was a handsome Spanish bullfighter who stole my heart away one day.   But alas, he was promised already to a lovely, dark-haired maiden back in his home country, so he left me here to mourn and went back to live with his wife in a beautiful castle in Spain.”
    “That’s just silly, Mum.”   All the same an impish smile was creeping over Aroha’s face.   “He would’ve married you – not his other girlfriend.   You’ve got lovely dark hair, too, and you’re nicer than any dumb maiden who lives in a castle.”
    “You’re right.   It is a silly tale.”   Verity gave her a look of mock contrition, and then bent low over her to tell her another story.   “The truth is that your father was a taniwha, a Maori spirit, a guardian of the river,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.   “He saw me walking past on the river bank one day, fell in love with me, and spirited me away to his home in the sky where the sun is always warm upon your face and the storm clouds stay far away.   But alas, mortal women cannot live for long in the spirit realm.”  
    She heaved a theatrical sigh and wiped away a pretend tear with the back of her hand.   “I was allergic to the spirit nectar that taniwhas eat.   Your father had to bring me back again to the land before I starved to death.   I have lived here ever since, mourning his loss.”
    Aroha gave a little giggle.   “I’m serious, Mum,” she said, giving Verity a playful smack on her leg.   “I don’t want any more of your stories.   I just want you to tell me the truth.”
    “The truth?”   Verity was quiet for a moment.   Her daughter was still only a child, too young to hear the full ugliness of what had really happened.   She owed her an explanation, but she didn’t want to hurt her any more than she truly had to.   “The truth is pretty unexciting really.   A lot less exciting than Spanish bullfighters and taniwhas.”  
    She took a deep breath to steel herself to tell some part of the truth.   “Your father was...he was a boy I once knew.”   Her voice caught in her throat at the words and she swallowed convulsively to clear it.   There, her secret was out.   Or at least a part of it.
    Aroha seemed completely unsurprised at this revelation.   With studied carelessness, she picked at a loose thread on her purple leggings.   “What was his name?”   Her casual tone was underlain with a note of apprehension that made her voice quiver slightly.
    Verity shook her head with anguished slowness.   For her daughter’s sake, she couldn’t confess that much.   Not when Taine had consistently refused to acknowledge his daughter's existence.   She would not lay Aroha open to that heartache if she could avoid it.   “It wouldn’t do you any good to