“My aunt …,” Phuti began.

Mma Ramotswe could see doubt creeping up on him, and she decided to speak quickly. “Mma Potokwane will talk to her again,” she said. “You do not need to worry about your aunt.”

The packing was completed within a few minutes. Then, with Mma Potokwane in the lead and Phuti’s wheelchair being pushed by Mma Makutsi, they filed out of the room and began to make their way out of the house. They encountered the aunt near the front door, but she shrank back at the sight of Mma Potokwane, who halted for a moment and stared at her, as an elephant will face an adversary, sniffing at the wind. Indeed, Mma Ramotswe thought that she saw Mma Potokwane’s ears flapping out, as an elephant’s will as it prepares to charge, or feints, but she knew at once that this must be a trick of the eye, a conceit of the imagination.

The aunt said nothing, but as she went past her on the way through the door, when Mma Potokwane, Mma Makutsi, and Phuti were already outside, Mma Ramotswe stopped and spoke to her. “Listen to me, Mma,” she said. “Your nephew still loves you. If you do not wish to lose him forever, then you must listen to what I say and you must remember it. Love without freedom is like a fire without air. A fire without air goes out. Do you understand me, Mma?”

She was not sure if the aunt did understand. The other woman looked up, but then looked away again. She understood, perhaps, but did not understand. There were many people like that. They understood but did not understand, all at the same time. It was a big problem.

MMA MAKUTSI helped Phuti Radiphuti settle into the room behind Mma Potokwane’s office. Alone at last, he held her hand and they sat together, at first saying nothing, and then, in a rush, saying everything.

“I have cried so much,” said Mma Makutsi. “I have thought of you all the time, Phuti, all the time.”

He squeezed her hand. “I thought I was going to die. And when I was lying there, thinking this is the end for Radiphuti, I was only sad for you, Grace, not for me. I did not care about dying, but I did care about leaving you.”

She tried to reply to this, but she could not. She found herself weeping. She took off her glasses and polished them, which is what she did at moments of emotion. Phuti took them from her, gently, and rubbed them against the sleeve of his shirt before handing them back to her.

“Mma Radiphuti,” he said. “That is what you will be, very soon now.”

“Very soon,” she echoed. “That will be very good.”