‘Evening, Mma,’ she said politely. ‘Is this seat taken?’

Mma Ramotswe looked up, as if surprised.

‘There is nobody there’, she said. ’It’s quite free.’

Nandira sat down.

‘I am looking forward to watching this film,’ she said pleasantly. ’I have wanted to see it for a long time.’

‘Good’, said Mma Ramotswe. ‘It is nice to see a film that you have always wanted to see.’

There was a silence. The girl was looking at her, and Mma Ramotswe felt quite uncomfortable. 

‘I saw you this afternoon,’ said Nandira. ‘I saw you at Maru-a-Pula.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Mam Ramotswe. ‘I was waiting for somebody.’

‘Then I saw you in the Book Centre,’ Nandira continued. ‘You were looking at a book.’

‘That’s right,’ said Mam Ramotswe. ‘I was thinking of buying a book.’

‘Then you asked Mam Bapitse about me,’ Nandira said quietly. ‘She told me you were asking about me.’

Mma Ramotswe made a mental note to be careful of Mma Bapitse in the future.

‘So why are you following me?’ asked Nandira, turning in her seat to stare at Mma Ramotswe.

Mam Ramotswe thought quickly. There was no point in denying it, and she might as well try to make the most of a difficult situation. So she told Nandira about her father’s anxieties and how he approached her. 

‘He wants to find out whether you’re seeing boys,’ she said. ‘He’s worried about it.’

Nadira looked pleased.

‘Well, if he is worried, he’s only got himself to blame if I keep going out with boys.’

‘And are you?’ asked Mma Ramotswe. ‘Are you going out with lots of boys?’

Nadira said quietly, ‘Not really’.

‘But what about this Jack?’ asked Mma Ramotswe. ‘Who’s he?’

‘Jack doesn’t exist, I made him up. I want them – my family – to think that I’ve got a boyfriend’, she said. ‘I want them to think there’s somebody I chose, not somebody they thought right for me. Do you understand?’

Mma Ramotswe thought for a moment. She felt sorry for this poor overprotected girl, and imagined just how in such circumstances one might want to pretend to have a boyfriend.

‘Yes, I understand,’ she said.

‘Are you going to tell him?’ Nandira asked.

‘Well, do I have much choice?’ asked Mma Ramotswe. ‘I can hardly say that I’ve seen you with a boy called Jack when he doesn’t really exist. Nandira sighed.

 ‘Well, I suppose I’ve asked for it. It’s been a silly game.’ She paused. ‘But once he realises that there’s nothing in it, do you think he might let me have a bit more freedom? Do you think he might let me live my life for a little without having to tell him how I spend every single minute?’

‘I could try to persuade him,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘I don’t know whether he’ll listen to me. But I could try.’

‘Please do,’ said Nandira. ‘Please try.