On the fourth Friday, Grace was twenty minutes late with the interest.
It was not her fault. The meat vendor had delayed her, and she had waited at the market to collect what she was owed from a customer. But when she hurried to Madam Harper's shop, a young man was already waiting by the gate.
He was tall and wore a plain grey shirt. He did not look cruel. That was somehow worse.
"Madam Grace?"
"Yes."
"Madam Harper says you are late."
"Twenty minutes. I have it. Look." She opened her bag.
He took the envelope, counted, and shook his head. "This is short."
"Short? By how much?"
"By the interest on the interest."
"What does that even mean?"
He shrugged. "You were late. There is a penalty. She said to tell you."
Grace felt the heat rising in her face. "That was not in the agreement."
"Madam, the agreement is in the ledger. Take it up with her." He did not raise his voice at all. "I am only here to collect. But if you cannot pay today, I will have to take something as guarantee."
"Take what?"
He glanced past her toward the compound, at the three big pots stacked by the stove, at the aluminium tray, at the charcoal sacks.
"The pots," he said.
Grace's blood went cold. Without the pots, there was no business. Without the business, there was no money. Without money…
"You cannot take my pots."
"Then pay the difference."
She looked at the sun. It was past noon. Her girls would be home from school in an hour, expecting food. She did not have the difference.
"Give me until Monday," she said.
"I cannot."
"Please."
He hesitated. For a moment she saw the boy inside the man, someone's son, someone's brother, doing a job.
"I will come back at six," he said. "Have it."
When he left, Grace sat down on the bucket and put her face in her hands. She did not have it. She had nothing to sell. She had already sold the earrings. She had sold Evelyn's baby gold chain, quietly, without telling her.
All that remained was one thing. A thin gold band that Daniel had once placed on her finger in front of both families, back when promises were still being kept.
She turned it slowly on her finger. It was too tight now. She had to use soap to get it off.
The jeweller down the road weighed it and gave her a fair price. Not generous, but fair. Enough to cover the penalty and a bit extra.
She walked out of that shop with her left hand bare for the first time in twelve years.
She did not cry. She went home, and she cooked.
At six o'clock, the young man in the grey shirt came back and collected his money. When he saw her bare finger, he looked away.
"Thank you, Madam," he said, very quietly. It was the first time anyone from Madam Harper's side had said it.