The meeting between the two of them had not lasted long. After about half an hour or so, silence had set in, and Mma Sebina had given Mma Ramotswe a glance of the sort that one woman can give another which signals that help is required. Mma Ramotswe had then said something about how time was marching on and that if Mr. Sekape did not mind she would now run him back to the bank in her van. This offer had been accepted, and then the two had exchanged telephone numbers.

“I shall telephone you tonight,” said Mr. Sekape.

And Mma Sebina had replied, “I shall be there, Rra. I shall answer.”

No, it had been a stiff meeting, a disappointment, and Mma Ramotswe had decided that she would not be surprised if the relationship fizzled out altogether. There were brothers and sisters, after all, who saw one another infrequently and did not seem to mind if they met only at family weddings and funerals. Perhaps this is how it would be for them.

But it was not. This gloomy prognosis had to be revised the following day when Mma Sebina telephoned Mma Ramotswe and told her that the two of them had met again on the very evening of their first encounter.

“He came to my house, Mma,” she said, “and I made him a very good meal. He said that he had not had anybody to cook for him since his mother became late. He was very happy.”

“I am glad about that,” said Mma Ramotswe. So at least Mr. Sekape accepted that women could have some uses, even if he professed to have such a low opinion of them. Mind you, she thought, all men who dislike women leave their dislike at the kitchen door.

“Yes,” enthused Mma Sebina. “And we had a very good time. He told me some very funny stories about the bank. He has a good sense of humour. I have often wondered if people who work in banks laugh much. Now I know they do.”

Mma Ramotswe was too surprised to say anything to this. Perhaps Mr. Sekape’s self-confessed hostility to women did not extend to sisters; perhaps he had discovered that his dislike was not as intense as he had imagined it to be. Or perhaps she had misunderstood him altogether, and his surprising remark had not been intended to be taken seriously. Whatever the explanation was, it was a welcome development: Mma Ramotswe did not like to disappoint clients, and it seemed that Mma Sebina was more than happy with the outcome of the encounter.

And that, of course, made her task of breaking the present news all the more difficult. But she had to do it, and had at last plucked up sufficient courage to go and speak to Mma Sebina.

“I shall go right now,” she said to Mma Makutsi. “I have put the matter off for long enough. I shall go, Mma—”