true. If you have a good slice of beef on your plate, then you are happy. Many studies have shown that, I think.”
Mma Ramotswe pointed to the large tent on the other side of the garden. “That is where we will find some lunch,” she said. “And then we can talk more about some other things.”
While Phuti and Grace went off to greet other friends in the crowd, Mma Ramotswe and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni made their way through the throng of guests towards the catering tent, where already the outside people, having enjoyed a head start, were making inroads on the meat. And it was on the way that Mma Ramotswe suddenly gripped Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s arm.
“I have seen a ghost, Rra,” she said, her voice filled with alarm.
He looked at her in astonishment, uncertain whether to laugh.
“There,” hissed Mma Ramotswe. “There, Rra—right over there.”
He looked where she was pointing. There was a group of four women and two men, each dressed in their wedding best. One of the women wore an elaborate, broad-brimmed hat—one of those hats that is more umbrella, perhaps, than headgear.
“Those are people, Mma,” he said. “They are not ghosts, as far as I can see.”
She shook her head. Lowering her voice, she said, “One of them is late, Rra. That one over there—she is late.”
CHAPTER TWO
A VERY UNOFFICIAL ENGAGEMENT
MR. J.L.B. MATEKONI WAITED for an explanation as Mma Ramotswe stared intently at the small group of wedding guests. If her husband was confused, then she herself was wondering whether her eyesight was playing tricks on her. Yet the woman in the large hat, who had just turned her back on her, now turned around again, affording Mma Ramotswe an even better view of her face. And now there was no doubt.
“That is definitely her, Rra,” she said, her voice still uneven with shock. “That woman over there. That’s Calviniah. And she’s late. She’s definitely late.”
Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni frowned. “Who is this Calviniah, Mma Ramotswe? I really don’t know what you’re talking about. There are no late people here, Mma.” He shrugged helplessly. The sun was hot. At such times, if you weren’t careful, it could make you say nonsensical things. Heatstroke was a dangerous thing.
He reached out to shelter her head from the sun with a handkerchief. It gave scant protection, but it would have to do until he could get her back into the shade.
But Mma Ramotswe brushed the inadequate shelter away. “Calviniah Ramoroka,” she said. “That’s her, standing over there.”
“That lady with the big hat?” asked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “That one, Mma? The one who is clearly not late?”
She said nothing for a moment. Then she turned to him. “I know you think it’s the sun. I know you think I’ve gone mad, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.”
He stuttered an apology. “I was not accusing you of that, Mma. I was just pointing out—”
She cut him short. “I have not taken leave of my senses, Rra. All that has happened is that I have seen a very old friend—somebody I knew a long time ago, from schooldays. She went off to live up in Francistown and I lost touch with her, and with her family too. Then…” She trailed off. The woman was coming towards them now, still talking to the group around her.
“Then?” asked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.
“Then I read in the papers that she had been killed in a road accident. There was a picture of her in the press. I couldn’t get to the funeral because it was up north and…well, something or other prevented me from going—work, I think…”
Mma Ramotswe put a hand to her mouth, in a gesture of profound shock. The woman in the hat had suddenly stopped, and was staring at her. Then, very quickly, she ran forwards towards Mma Ramotswe, stopping just short of her. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni stood quite still. Things had happened so quickly, and he was uncertain what to do.
“Precious Ramotswe?” The woman spoke loudly.
Mma Ramotswe nodded. “Calviniah…”
Calviniah took a step forward, her arms wide. “I thought it was you,” she said. “And it is you, isn’t it?” She glanced at Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “And this is…?”
“This is my husband,” said Mma Ramotswe, her voice still faltering. “This is Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.”
They exchanged the polite, traditional greetings. Then Calviniah turned back to Mma Ramotswe and embraced her friend. “It is so long,” she said. “It is so very long.”
“I thought you were late,” Mma Ramotswe struggled to say. “I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Calviniah