“Well …,” Mma Potokwane began. “Well …”

“You will be very busy,” Mma Makutsi suggested helpfully. “All those things …”

Mma Potokwane pursed her lips. “Many things,” she began. “There are many things.”

They waited. Mma Potokwane poked a stick into the fire, making a few short-lived sparks fly heavenwards. Yes, thought Mma Ramotswe; yes, there are so many other things that might come to mind, but not if you have given your life to orphaned children; not if you have spent every waking hour working out how to advance their interests, how to procure some little benefit, some little treat that would make each of them feel loved, special; not if you had given to those same children all the love that a large—traditionally built—frame could muster; not then, not then was there anything that you wanted to do but to continue with what you had always been doing, which was to look after those children.

Mma Ramotswe decided to break the silence. “But the most important thing to you, Mma, is running the orphan farm. That’s what you really like doing, isn’t it?”

Mma Potokwane did not answer: she did not need to, as her expression said everything that needed to be said.

“I thought so,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And that’s why I think you should come back with us.”

Mma Potokwane looked up sharply. “No. I have left now. My deputy will run the place until they get somebody else.”

“Then he will have won,” muttered Mma Makutsi. “That man will have won. Bullies often do.”

Mma Potokwane turned to look at her. “Why do you say that, Mma?”

“Because it’s true, isn’t it? Bullies often win. They know that people are not prepared to stand up to them, and so they win.” She looked at Mma Ramotswe for confirmation. “And there are many men who bully women. You agree with that, don’t you, Mma Ramotswe.”

Mma Ramotswe’s reply was cautious. “Well, sometimes … But remember, Mma, there are many men who are not bullies.”

“Of course,” said Mma Makutsi. “Phuti is not like that. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni is not like that. And your husband, Mma Potokwane, I have heard he is not like that either …”

“He is certainly not like that,” said Mma Potokwane. “Rra Potokwane is very kind. He does not go around pushing people about.”

No, said a small voice, you do all the pushing, don’t you?

Mma Makutsi shot a glance down in the direction of her shoes.

Sorry, Boss, we couldn’t resist that.