But Charlie reached out for a pen from his employer’s top pocket. He left a small grease stain on the edge of the fabric. “That’s fine by me, Boss,” he said. “You would never try to cheat me. I know that. You are my father.”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni watched Charlie as he signed with a flourish and handed over the piece of paper. There were greasy fingerprints on the document where the apprentice had held it. I have tried to teach him, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni said to himself. I have tried my best.

They went outside to where the old Mercedes-Benz was parked. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni handed over the keys to Charlie. “It’s insured on my policy for the next two weeks,” he said. “Then it’s up to you.”

Charlie looked at the keys. “I can hardly believe this, Boss. I can hardly believe it.”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni bit his lip. He had looked after this boy, every day, every day, for years now. “I know you’ll do your best, Charlie,” he said quietly. “I know that.”

A door opened in the building behind them and Mma Makutsi appeared. Charlie put the keys in his pocket and looked nervously at Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.

“I have come to say goodbye,” Mma Makutsi said. “And to wish you good luck with the business, Charlie. I hope that it goes well with you.”

Charlie had been staring at the ground. Now he looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Mma. I will try.”

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. “I am sure that you will. And here’s another thing. I’m sorry, Rra, if I have ever been unkind to you. I am sorry for that.”

Nobody spoke. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, who was holding the piece of paper which Charlie had signed, busied himself with folding it neatly and putting it into his pocket, a task which seemed to take a long time, and had to be re-done. Somewhere, on the road behind the garage, an engine revved up, coughed, and then died away into silence.

“That needs fixing,” said Charlie, laughing nervously. Then, he looked at Mma Makutsi, and smiled at her. “If you need my taxi, Mma,” he said, “I will be proud to drive you.”

“And I will be proud to go in it,” she said. “Thank you.”

After that, there was little more to be said. Great feuds often need very few words to resolve them. Disputes, even between nations, between peoples, can be set to rest with simple acts of contrition and corresponding forgiveness, can so often be shown to be based on nothing much other than pride and misunderstanding, and the forgetting of the humanity of the other—and land, of course.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

A GIFT FROM MR PHUTI RADIPHUTI