The Double Comfort Safari Club - By Alexander McCall Smith Page 0,64

daughter. If she wakes up at the funeral, we shall see who runs away, and we shall know who it is.’

“They all thought that this was a good idea, even the girl. ‘It will be very good to be at my own funeral,’ she said. ‘I shall hear the things that people say about me, and I shall find out who my friends are.’”

Mma Makutsi interrupted Mma Ramotswe at this point. “I am not so sure,” she said. “People do not always tell the truth at funerals. They say things that are not true because they feel guilty about the way they have treated the late person. I have seen that happen many times. In fact, if you listened to what was said at funerals, you would think that this is a land of saints.”

Mma Ramotswe agreed that this was largely true. “Yes,” she said. “That may be true, but people are trying their best, remember. And they may believe what they say.”

“All those lies?” asked Mma Makutsi. “They would believe all those lies?”

Mma Ramotswe pointed out that many people came to believe the lies they told. Politicians, she said, were a bit like that. “They get so used to telling lies that they begin to think that these lies are true. It is very sad.”

But that was not the point of the story, she reminded Mma Makutsi. “They all said that they would go ahead with the funeral, and it was also agreed that the girl should jump out of the coffin in the middle of the service and say that there was one present who had put a spell on her, and she knew who this person was. Then everybody was to look for the one who ran away, as surely such a person would run away in such circumstances.”

Mma Makutsi could barely wait for the outcome. “They carried her in, Mma? As if she was late?”

“Yes, they did that, Mma. It was all planned. They were going to sing a Setswana hymn—you know that one, ‘The Yoke Is Heavy upon Me’—and then the girl was to knock on the coffin. Then they would let her sit up and make her denunciation of the spell that had almost killed her. But there was a problem.”

Mma Makutsi drew in her breath. A problem? Perhaps the girl had suffocated and was now really dead. Perhaps she had gone to sleep and had to be woken up by her family. She raised these possibilities with Mma Ramotswe, who said no, it had not been like that. Then what had happened?

“The father said that they should open the coffin and check on the body. The reverend, who did not know about the plan, was surprised, but did not want to upset a man in mourning, and so he agreed. That is when they got a bad shock, Mma Makutsi. A bad, bad shock.”

Mma Makutsi covered her face with her hands. “I do not want to hear the end of this story, Mma Ramotswe. I am too frightened.”

“It was not the girl in there at all,” said Mma Ramotswe. “They had mixed up the coffins, and the girl had gone to another funeral altogether.”

Mma Makutsi let out a scream. “Oh, Mma! That is terrible. They might have already buried the other one.”

“Yes, they might have. But fortunately they did not.”

Mma Makutsi let out a sigh of relief. “That is a very happy result,” she said. “Real life very seldom works out that way.”

“Indeed,” said Mma Ramotswe. “If we believe that story. I am not sure …”

But Mma Makutsi appeared not to have heard. “It must have been very sad for the people at that funeral—the one where the late person started knocking on the coffin. Their hopes must have been raised that the dear brother or sister inside was no longer late. And then, when they discovered that it was another person, they must have been very upset.”

“I don’t think so,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Apparently that other person was a very difficult person who had made everybody’s life a misery. When they heard the knocking they were all very sad, I’m told. Then, when they realised it was somebody else, they were very relieved.”

Mma Makutsi laughed at this. It was difficult to imagine being glad over the loss of anybody; she would never rejoice in the demise of another, unless, of course … A list started to form in her mind. No. 1. Violet Sephotho. No. 2. Phuti’s No. 1 Aunty. No. 3