Mma Ramotswe sighed. She wanted to be at home; she did not want to have to give Mma Mateleke the advice that she had planned to give her. She just did not have the energy. But she could hardly refuse to answer, and so she said, “I have looked into it, Mma. And I am satisfied of one thing: your husband is not having an affair. No girlfriend. Nothing.”

Mma Mateleke stared at her. “You are sure, Mma?” the midwife asked. “You are sure that he is not seeing somebody?”

Mma Ramotswe suddenly became very alert, very aware of what was happening. And at that moment, simply by looking at her friend, she knew. Mma Mateleke was disappointed. She wanted to hear that the Reverend Mateleke was having an affair. That realisation made it all clear. A wife would not be disappointed to hear that her husband was not having an affair, unless she herself was having an affair. If she was having an affair, it would be much easier for her to blame him for the breakdown of the marriage if he were having one too. It was very simple.

Mma Ramotswe stared at her friend. “I can tell that you are disappointed, Mma. It shows.”

Mma Mateleke made a dismissive gesture, but said nothing.

Mma Ramotswe thought of what Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had said to her about the man he had met on the Lobatse Road, the man who appeared to have driven out to rescue Mma Mateleke when her car broke down. He had wondered whether that man was Mma Mateleke’s lover, but Mma Ramotswe had rather dismissed the suggestion. He had mentioned the man’s name, though, and it came back to her now. “So tell me, Mma,” she said. “How long have you been having an affair with that man—with Mr. Ntirang?”

Mma Mateleke’s eyes narrowed. “Ntirang?” And her voice, small and strained, provided further confirmation.

“I cannot help you in this matter,” said Mma Ramotswe wearily. “All I can say is this: I believe that your husband is very fond of you. I believe that he is anxious because I suspect that he knows. So you must now decide what to do. I cannot make that decision for you. You must choose.”

Mma Mateleke said nothing. She stood up, hesitated for a moment, and then left the room without saying goodbye. Mma Ramotswe sat down and closed her eyes. The long drive had tired her to the extent of being incapable of making tea. But Mr. Polopetsi came in, saw the state she was in, and made tea for her. He did not ask her why she looked so despondent, so defeated, but sat there, silently, sharing her tea, until she was ready to gather herself and go home.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A DAM OF HEALING WATERS