“And this lady,” whispered the woman. “She is like a skinny cow. No man will want to live with her. Even a man with one leg will run away from such a woman. You can tell that.”

Mma Ramotswe cleared her throat. “I have heard what you said,” she told the aunt. “And I do not think you should speak like that. It is not true, and it is unkind. Mma Makutsi will wait here with me, and with this good lady here.” She gestured to the other woman on the bench, who nodded her agreement. “And then when the operation is over she will go to sit with Phuti until he wakes up. I shall explain all this to Dr. Gulubane, who is an important doctor in the hospital here. I know him well, Mma, and I am sure that he will sort everything out if you start to make trouble.” She paused. “Do you understand what I have said to you?”

The aunt glanced about her. The mention of authority had unnerved her, and she was outnumbered; even the young girl was staring at her with undisguised hostility. She reached for a bag that she had placed beside the bench and began to walk away. “Phuti will be very cross when I tell him about this,” she said over her shoulder. “I can tell you that.”

Mma Ramotswe hesitated for a moment, and then she walked briskly after the retreating aunt. “Excuse me, Mma,” she said.

The aunt ignored her.

“I know that you’re feeling very sad,” Mma Ramotswe persisted. “I know that you love Phuti very much, and this must be very hard for you.”

The aunt’s step faltered.

Mma Ramotswe reached out to touch the other woman’s arm. “And from what I have heard, he is very fond of you too. He is a good man.”

The aunt stopped. Mma Ramotswe heard her breathing, a slightly raspy sound; to hear the breathing of others, such a vulnerable, intimate sound, was the most powerful reminder of their humanity—if one listened.

“You have heard that he is fond of me, Mma? You have heard that?”

Mma Ramotswe had not, but she reasoned that she could infer it from what Mma Makutsi said about Phuti’s regular visits to the aunt’s house; and from such information to a conclusion of fondness, and from that to a report of fondness, was not too large a step. To tell the strict truth was the best policy in general but not always, particularly when the happiness of an insecure and lonely, even if misguided, woman was at stake.

“Yes, I have heard it,” she said. “And I think that you should think very carefully about what I am going to tell you, Mma.”

The aunt was looking at Mma Ramotswe intently now. The watermelon-shaped head gave a small nod.