“Well,” said Mma Potokwane, “as you know, the girl went down to that lady in Otse. I do not remember her name, but it will be that Mma Sebina. That must be right. I am glad to hear that the daughter is doing well.”

Mma Ramotswe hesitated. She was so close now to the object of her search that she hardly dared ask the question, fearing a disappointing answer. Things happened to people in this life. They went away. Became late. Disappeared. “And the boy? The brother of that girl?”

Mma Ramotswe knew immediately that the answer was going to be a positive one. You can always read the signs, she thought; the clues are there, and you only have to be moderately observant to notice them.

Mma Potokwane reached for the teapot again; their third cup. “The boy? Yes, I saw him the other day.” She poured the tea. “I bump into him from time to time in the bank. The Standard Bank. That is where he works, you see.”

“Still? He’s there now?”

Mma Potokwane shrugged. “Unless he’s at another branch. They move them around, I think. But that man always seems to be there. He is quite senior now. He is a sort of deputy-assistant-under-manager, or something like that. You know how they give themselves long titles. I’m just matron but in these big offices they have very big titles.”

Mma Ramotswe thought of Mma Makutsi and her desire to have an impressive-sounding title. And why should people not be allowed a little boost like that, if it made them feel a bit better about themselves? Mma Potokwane should be allowed to call herself matron-general if she liked; in fact, Mma Ramotswe thought, it would rather suit her.

“Can you tell me the name of this man?” she asked. Even if she did not get this information out of Mma Potokwane, she would be able to find him now. But a name would be useful.

Mma Potokwane closed her eyes for a moment. “I know it, Mma. I know it. Se…something or other. Se…Sekape. That’s it. Sekape. I think that was the name. It is not the name that they came here with, but it is the same man.”

They talked for another half an hour before Mma Ramotswe left. Now that she had the information she needed, Mma Ramotswe was able to relax and enjoy the conversation, which covered a wide range of topics. One of the housemothers had been unwell and had undergone an operation. The operation had been successful and the details were given. Mma Ramotswe mentioned that she knew somebody who had benefited from a similar operation and was now the manager of a large café. Mma Potokwane nodded. Operations could set one up very nicely—in some cases.

Charlie was mentioned. “Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni is too soft with those boys,” said Mma Potokwane. “He is too kind.”