Mma Ramotswe realised that she could not allow this self-pity to continue. That would only make it worse, in her view. So she explained to Mma Makutsi that she would have to seek out Phuti Radiphuti and reassure him. If she did not wish to do that, then she herself, Mma Ramotswe, could do it for her. Her offer was not taken up, but she repeated it, and it was reflected upon. Then the working day began. It was the day on which bills were due to be sent out, and that was always an enjoyable experience. If only there were a day on which bills were all returned, fully paid, that would be even more enjoyable. But the working world was not like that, and there were always more that went out than came in, or so it seemed. And in this sense, Mma Ramotswe mused, the working world reflected life; which was an adage worthy of Aunty Emang herself, even if she was not quite sure whether it was true or not.

THE BILLS ALL TYPED UP and sealed in their neat white envelopes, Mma Ramotswe remembered that she had something that she wanted to show to Mma Makutsi. Reaching into the old leather bag that she used for carrying papers and lists and the one hundred and one other accoutrements of her daily life, she extracted the letter which Mma Tsau had handed over to her the previous day. She crossed the room and handed it to Mma Makutsi.

“What do you make of this?” she said.

Mma Makutsi unfolded the letter and laid it on the desk before her. The paper, she noted, was crumpled, which meant that somebody could have crunched it up and tossed it away. This was not a cherished letter. This was a letter which had brought only anger and fear.

“So, Mma Tsau,” Mma Makutsi read out. “So there you are in that good job of yours. It is a good job, isn’t it? You have lots of people working for you. You get your cheque at the end of the month. Everything is fine for you, isn’t it? And for that husband of yours too. He is very happy that you have this good job, as he can go and eat for nothing, can’t he? It must be very nice to eat for nothing in this life. There are very few people who can do that, but he is one.

“But, you see, I know that you are stealing food for him. I saw him getting fatter and fatter, and I thought: that’s a man who is eating for nothing! I could tell that. Of course you wouldn’t want other people to know that, and so, you listen to me, listen carefully please: I will be getting in touch with you about how you can keep me from telling anybody about this. Don’t worry—you’ll hear from me.”