Blue Shoes and Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith

the sky in all this, the sky which had seen so much of it, was neutral, absolutely neutral.
    The problem with blackmail, thought Mma Ramotswe, is this: the victim is often a wrongdoer, but, once blackmailed, attracts our sympathy. But why should we feel sorry for somebody who is simply being made to pay for the wrong that he did? It occurred to Mma Ramotswe that this was a problem that deserved serious consideration. Perhaps it was even a question to put to Aunty Emang. Aunty Emang …

CHAPTER FOUR

    WHAT FEMINISTS HAVE IN MIND FOR MEN
    M MA MAKUTSI made the evening meal that night for Mr Phuti Radiphuti, her newly acquired fiancé. Phuti Radiphuti was the son of the elder Mr Radiphuti, successful businessman, farmer, and proprietor of the Double Comfort Furniture Shop. She had met Phuti at the dancing classes which they had both attended at the Academy of Dance and Movement. This was not a real academy, in that it had no buildings and indeed had no staff other than the woman who took the money and the instructor, Mr Fano Fanope, an accomplished dancer who had danced, successfully, in Johannesburg and Nairobi. Word of the engagement had spread round the dance class, and Mr Fanope himself had made an official announcement at the end of one evening that the academy was proud to have brought the couple together.
    â€œDancing is about contact between people,” he had said in his speech. “When you dance with somebody you are talking to him, even if you do not open your mouth. Your movements can show what is in your heart. That is very important. And that is why so many happy couples meet through dancing. And that is another reason why if you have not already booked your place on our next course, you should do so now. Ladies, you could be like Grace Makutsi and find a good husband here; gentlemen, look at Mr Phuti Radiphuti, who has found this fine lady. May they be very happy together! May they have many happy hours on the dance floor and elsewhere!”
    Mma Makutsi had been touched by this speech, in spite of the blatant reference to advance bookings. She liked Mr Fanope, and she knew that he was genuinely pleased about the engagement. She knew, too, that this pleasure was shared by many of the other members of the class, even if not by all. One of the other women, a person by the name of Violet, who had been at the Botswana Secretarial College with her, had smirked during Mr Fanope’s speech and had muttered something to the man standing next to her, who had suppressed a laugh. Mma Makutsi had exchanged words with this woman at an earlier session, when Violet had made a disparaging remark about Mma Makutsi’s green shoes (of which she was very proud) and had effectively sneered at Phuti Radiphuti. By a supreme effort of will, Mma Makutsi had replied to her courteously and had even gone out of her way to compliment her. This had been difficult indeed, as Violet had achieved a bare pass mark at the Botswana Secretarial College—somewhere around fifty per cent—and was clearly only interested in finding the richest husband available.
    As she witnessed the smirk, for a delicious moment Mma Makutsi imagined what she might say to Violet if the opportunity presented itself. And in fact it did, at the end of that evening, when Violet sidled up to her and said, “Well, Mma, that’s a kind thing you’ve done. It’s very good of you to look after Mr Radiphuti like that. It must have been very hard for him to find a wife and now you have agreed to marry him. You are a really kind person. But I always knew that, of course.”
    Mma Makutsi had looked at her enemy. At the back of her mind were the memories of those days at the Botswana Secretarial College when the glamorous girls, of whom Violet was more or less the leader, would sit at the back of the class and discuss their social triumphs and snigger when Mma Makutsi or one of the other hard workers was complimented by the instructor. She