“That’s what I asked him,” Logan said crossly. “At least then it would have been spelled right!”
Hana put her hand up to her mouth, looking to Tama for confirmation and he closed his eyes and struggled to hold back his tears. “Darling,” she said and touched his arm. “Can’t you sort something out?” she asked her husband, so used to him fixing everything.
“I can give the tattoo artist a slap, but this i***t wrote it down for him so not really, no. It’s not too bad; it’s a grammatical error.” He shook his head at Tama, his frown slipping into a smirk. “Pity you didn’t research it before you let him write it indelibly on your skin, aye?”
Hana gave her husband a hard look. He knew the pain of wearing a faulty genealogy etched into his flesh. The whakapapa tattoo on his upper arm and shoulder
