Chapters (23)
- COVER PAGE
- TITLE PAGE
- DEDICATION
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- BOOKS BY ALEXANDER McCALL SMITH
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
“I was collecting a part for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni,” she explained. “Neil had found it for him. But I didn’t manage to speak to anybody. So I thought I would come back and say hallo.”
The relative nodded. “You are always welcome,” he said. “We like to see people out here.”
There was a silence. Mma Ramotswe picked up the mug of tea he had prepared and took a sip. “Is everything going well here?” she asked. It was an innocent-seeming question, but one which was asked with an ulterior motive, and it did not sound innocent to her.
The relative looked at her. “Going well? I suppose so.”
Mma Ramotswe waited for him to say something else, but he did not. She saw, though, that he was frowning. People did not normally frown when they said that something was going well.
“You look unhappy,” she said.
This remark seemed to take the relative by surprise. “You noticed?” he said.
Mma Ramotswe tapped the table with a finger. “That is what I am paid to do,” she said. “I am paid to notice things. Even when I am off duty, I notice things. And I can tell that there’s something uncomfortable going on here. I can tell.”
“What can you tell, Mma Ramotswe?” said the relative.
Mma Ramotswe patiently explained to him about atmospheres, and about how one could always tell when people were frightened. It showed in their eyes, she said. Fear always showed in the eyes.
The relative listened. He looked away as she spoke, as people will do when they did not wish their eyes to be seen. This confirmed her impression.
“You yourself are frightened of something,” she coaxed, her voice low. “I can tell.”
The relative glanced back at her. His look was a pleading one. He rose to his feet and closed the door. There was only one small window in the room, a small rectangle of sky, and they were immediately enveloped in gloom. It was slightly cold too, as the floor of the room was of uncovered concrete and the warming sunlight which had slanted in through the door was now excluded. In the background, against one of the walls, a tap that ran into a dirty basin dripped water.