Mma Potokwane licked a small trace of syrup off a finger. “Yes,” she said. “And what about you, Mma Ramotswe? What are your favourite memories? Do you have any that are very special?”

Mma Ramotswe did not have to think about that. “My Daddy,” she said. “He was a good man, and I remember him. I remember walking with him along a road—I don’t remember where it was—but I remember how we did not have to talk to one another, we just walked together, and were perfectly happy. And then…and then…”

“Yes?”

She was uncertain if she should tell Mma Potokwane about this, but she was her old friend, and she did. “Then there’s another memory. I remember Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni asking me to marry him. One evening at Zebra Drive. He had just finished fixing my van and he asked me to marry him. It was almost dark, but not quite. You know that time of the evening? That is when he asked me.”

Mma Potokwane listened gravely to the confidence. She would reciprocate, she thought.

“Funny,” she said. “I think it was the other way round with me. I asked my husband. In fact, it was definitely me. I was the one.”

Mma Ramotswe, recalling her discussion with Mma Makutsi, suppressed a smile. That’s two things I need to tell her, she said to herself.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A SHORT CHAPTER ABOUT TEA