Now, with the van parked outside the neighbour’s gate, she was making her way up the bare and dusty front path towards the Kwele verandah. Vain was waiting for them, and greeted Susan with elaborate courtesy. He explained that his wife was out, but that he would tell her about the visit when she returned. He asked her where she lived now, and expressed the wish one day to see Toronto, of which he had heard so much.

“I have several maps of Canada,” he said, as Mma Ramotswe introduced her.

“Then you will know where to go if you come and see us,” said Susan.

“They are out of date, I think,” said Vain. “You must never rely on old maps to navigate. You might suddenly find there is a dam—or worse still, a hole—directly where you want to go. I would need to get a much better map.”

They went inside, where Vain invited them to sit down. “Mma Ramotswe has told me all about your search,” he began. “And now you have found the house where you lived. After all these years, that’s something to think about, isn’t it, Mma?”

Mma Ramotswe watched. Somebody had once told her—it may even have been Mma Makutsi, she thought—that you should watch where eyes went. If you could see what people were looking at, if you were ready to note where their gaze alighted, then you learned a lot about them. Now, as she sat in the Kwele living room, she saw Susan’s eyes drift round to the door that led to the back of the house. She did not seem to be interested in the living room, but surely she must remember that better than anywhere else in the house. People lived in their living rooms, after all.

“I can show you round,” said Vain. “I imagine that it’s very different from those old days, but the walls are in the same place.”

“That would be kind,” said Susan.

Again the eyes, after politely going to Vain, returned to that door to the back.

Vain rose to his feet. “We could start,” he said. “That is, we could start if you’re ready, Mma?”

Mma Ramotswe and Susan stood up.

“The kitchen is back here,” said Vain. “I think it would have been there in your day. Kitchens stay put, I think—don’t you, Mma?”

“You would not want your kitchen to wander,” said Mma Ramotswe.

Vain laughed. “You certainly would not. You would have to say: Where is my kitchen today? How am I to cook if it keeps going off somewhere?”

Susan did not laugh; she barely smiled.

“Here,” said Vain, “is the kitchen.”