In the Company of Cheerful Ladies (27 page)

she had resorted to in order to deal with Charlie.

“Don’t worry,” said Mma Makutsi, sensing her employer’s concern. “I handled it very tactfully. And I think he will be coming

back just as soon as he leaves that flashy lady, which I think will be very soon.”

Mma Ramotswe laughed. “And how do you know that he’s going to leave her? Are you sure that you are not just hoping that he will come to his senses?”

“That boy has very few senses,” said Mma Makutsi. “No, I think that he will very soon be persuaded by that lady’s husband to come back. I telephoned him, you see. I managed to get his number from the shebeen queen who is living in Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s house. Then I telephoned the husband in Johannesburg

and said that I thought that he should know that his wife was carrying on with a young man. He said that he would come over to Gaborone and sort out that young man. I said that he should not harm Charlie, but should just warn him off and tell him to get back to his job. He was unwilling to agree to this, of course, but then I said that if he did not, then he would have to

IN THE COMPANY OF CHEERFUL LADIES 219

look for another wife. I said that if he would promise not to harm Charlie, then I would see to it that Charlie stopped carrying on with his wife.”

Mma Ramotswe looked puzzled.

“Yes,” Mma Makutsi went on. “I told him that this wife of his was ready to run away with this young man. The only way of stopping that would be to get the young man to leave her of his own accord.”

“And how could that be done?” asked Mma Ramotswe. She had seen how headstrong Charlie could be, and she could not imagine him yielding to advice from Mma Makutsi, or anybody else for that matter.

“I then got hold of Charlie and told him that I had heard that the woman’s husband was coming to deal with him,” she said. “He looked very frightened and asked me how I knew this thing. That’s the point at which I had to tell a small lie, although it was a lie for Charlie’s benefit. I told him that I had a cousin in the police who had told me that this man was suspected of disposing of another of his wife’s boyfriends. They had not been able to prove it, but they said that he had done it.”

“That was not a very big lie,” observed Mma Ramotswe. “It may even be true.”

“It could be,” said Mma Makutsi. “That man certainly talked about Charlie in a very threatening way.”

“So Charlie is now scared off?” asked Mma Ramotswe.

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. “And he asked me whether Mr

J.L.B. Matekoni would take him back. I said that I thought thathe might, provided that he promised to work very hard and not to spend all his time looking at girls.”

“And what did he say to that?” “He said that he had always been hard-working and, anyway, he was getting a bit tired of women. Apparently this lady with the

2 2 0

Mercedes-Benz is a bit demanding. She wants him to pay a lot of attention to her.”

“I have always thought that about people who drive around in expensive cars,” said Mma Ramotswe. “But I have never thought that about ladies who drive vans.”

They laughed at this, and each of them poured another cup of tea.

A VISIT FROM MR PHUTI RADIPHUTI’S

FATHER, THE ELDER MR RADIPHUTI

IN THE DAYS and weeks that followed, life returned to normal at the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency and at Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors.

“I have had quite enough excitement,” observed Mma Ramotswe

to Mma Makutsi. “There was that bad business with Note. There was the terrible thing that happened to the tiny white van. And then there was the row over Charlie. I do not think that I could have taken much more.”

“You are right, Mma,” said Mma Makutsi. “We have never had so much happen all at the same time. It is better for things to happen separately. I have always said that.” She paused to think for a moment before continuing. “At the Botswana Secretarial College they taught us to do one thing at a time. That is what they said we should do. One thing at a time.”

Mma Ramotswe nodded. “That is very true,” she said. She was not sure that everything that Mma Makutsi attributed to the Botswana Secretarial College could really have been taught there; after all, surely they had much more to teach than aphorisms.

And for her part, of course, Mma Makutsi had those doubts about Mma Ramotswe’s attribution of sayings and views

2 2 2

to Seretse Khama. But neither expressed their doubts very much, which was what civility required.

It was true that rather too much had happened. Now both Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi were looking forward to a period of stability and peace. That is not to say that they were averse to the appearance of an interesting client with a challenging

problem; such clients were always welcome—indeed they were necessary—but it would be helpful if such a person did not cross their threshold for a week or two.

Mma Ramotswe was sure that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni would share her views on this. He had busied himself with the repair of the tiny white van—a task that had taken him several days—but now that was finished and she was once again at the wheel of the vehicle she loved so much.

“That van will not last forever,” Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had warned her. “You know that, don’t you?”

Mma Ramotswe had admitted this, as she had done on many occasions, “A few more years will be enough,” she said. “Five, six years maybe. Then I shall say goodbye to it.”

“Five or six years?” Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had repeated. “Oh, no. No. That is too long. You cannot hope for that. A machine is like a person. It gets tired.”

“We shall see,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You never know. There are some very old cars that are still working. I have seen some that are older than my van.”

They had left the subject there, as there were other things for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to do. Charlie had returned, as had been anticipated

by Mr Polopetsi, and had asked for his job back. Mma Makutsi had witnessed the scene from the office doorway, standing just far back enough not to be seen by the chastened apprentice, but in a good position to listen to what was said. Later she told Mma Ramotswe with considerable satisfaction about the exchange.

IN THE COMPANY OF CHEERFUL LADIES 223

“You should have seen his face, Mma,” she said, smiling at the memory. “He looked like this.” She turned down the corners of her mouth and gazed glumly at the floor.

Mma Ramotswe smiled. She took no pleasure in the young man’s humiliation, but there were lessons he had to learn and there was a certain justice in what had happened.

“He shifted his weight from foot to foot,” went on Mma Makutsi. “Like this. And Mr J.L.B. Matekoni stood like this, with his hands on his hips, like a teacher speaking to a naughty boy.”

“What did he say?” asked Mma Ramotswe.

“I heard it all,” said Mma Makutsi. “Charlie said, ‘I am back here now, Boss. I have been away for a few days. I have taken a little holiday. Now I am back.’

“Mr J.L.B. Matekoni said, ‘A holiday? I thought you said that you were quitting the job. I thought you said that you didn’t need to work any more? Did you not say that?’

“And then Charlie said that this was a mistake. He said that he had not been serious when he said that he was not going to work any more. He said that he had meant to say that he was going on a holiday.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “That young man has not learned anything yet,” she said. “Did he really expect Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to believe that nonsense?”

“I think he did,” said Mma Makutsi. “But then, you know what Charlie is like. He is not a boy with first-class brains. He is a forty-two per cent boy, at the most. That is the sort of result he would get in an exam. Forty-two per cent. I am pretty sure of that, Mma.”

Mma Ramotswe’s eyes wandered up for a moment to the certificate

on the wall behind Mma Makutsi’s head. It was the certificate

from the Botswana Secretarial College, proudly framed, with the motto of the College in bold letters under the College

2 2 4

title: Be Accurate. And under that, the remarkable result, inscribed in a hand that must have marvelled at the figures it was obliged to pen: 97 per cent.

“Anyway,” went on Mma Makutsi, “Mr J.L.B. Matekoni listened

to all this, and then he leaned forward and he shook a finger

at Charlie, just as he did when Charlie shouted at me that day and called me the rude name.”

A warthog, thought Mma Ramotswe. Yes, he called you a warthog, and I think you called him one too, if I remember correctly.

She thought this and tried not to smile as for a brief moment an image of a warthog in big round glasses crossed her mind. Big round glasses and green shoes with blue linings.

“Mr J.L.B. Matekoni told him that he was a very silly young man,” continued Mma Makutsi. “He said that young men should not run off with ladies who were much older than they were. He said that it was asking for trouble. He also told him that he should act more responsibly and find a nice girl of his own age whom he could marry. He said that this was what the Government was saying

men should do, and that Charlie should listen to what the Government had to say on this subject.

“And all the time Charlie was looking down at the ground and wringing his hands, like this. I almost felt sorry for him. In fact, maybe I did feel a little bit sorry for him, although he had asked for all of it and only had himself to blame.

“And then I heard him promise Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to behave better in the future and I heard him say that he knew that he had been very stupid and that he would not be stupid again. Those were his very words, Mma, and I wrote them down on a piece of paper which we can keep in the office here and take out and wave at him some time in the future if we need to do so.”

Mma Ramotswe looked at the piece of paper which Mma Makutsi had produced. Yes, it might be useful, but they should

IN THE COMPANY OF CHEERFUL LADIES 225

remember, she said, that Charlie was still a young man and that young men were apt to do foolish things, and that they probably all had to learn by their mistakes. Mma Makutsi was more grudging

about it, but eventually agreed that he had probably suffered enough and should be given another chance. Perhaps he would meet a nice girl now, and all would change, although she had to admit to some reservations about that.

“But Charlie said something else,” added Mma Makutsi. “He said something about a pumpkin.”

Mma Ramotswe looked up sharply. “A pumpkin?”

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. “He said that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni should not think that he was all bad. He said that he should remember that he had given you a pumpkin.”

“I see,” said Mma Ramotswe, and then, again, “I see.”

She gazed out of the window. So it was Charlie who had brought that pumpkin, which meant that the man under the bed was not the person who had brought it, and this in turn meant that she still did not know the identity of the intruder. It was certainly not Charlie, because she would have recognised him, so …She stopped. An idea came to her, and it was an icy one. Perhaps it had been Note Mokoti under her bed. But she put that out of her mind, as there was no point in scaring herself after the event.

“Well, just think of that,” said Mma Ramotswe to Mma Makutsi. “Charlie brought me a pumpkin! Don’t young men do strange things, Mma Makutsi?” And everybody might be kind, she thought to herself—even a young man like Charlie, with his thoughts of women and his vanity and all the rest.

“They do,” agreed Mma Makutsi. “Especially that young man.” She would not mention her tea-pot again, but she had not forgotten.

Of course, Charlie’s return had raised issues about Mr Polopetsi’s future. Mr Polopetsi himself had been silent when Charlie had been re-engaged. He had continued to work conscientiously,

2 2 6

but he had noticed Charlie’s hostile glances and seen the two apprentices whispering to one another and looking in his direction. He had assumed that the return of the apprentice would mean the end of his job, and there was a resignation about his manner that day and the next. At last, waiting for a quiet moment, he had slipped into the office and spoken to Mma Ramotswe.

“I have come to thank you, Mma,” he blurted out. “Now that my job is over, I am coming to thank you for what you did for me. I have been happy here. You have been kind to me.”

Mma Ramotswe looked up from her desk. “I do not know what you are talking about, Rra,” she said. “What is over? What are you talking about?”

“My job,” he said. “The apprentice has come back. Now there will be no more work for me.”

Mma Ramotswe, who had been adding up garage receipts, put down her pen and looked at Mr Polopetsi.

“I do not think your job is finished,” she said. “Has Mr J.L.B. Matekoni said anything to you?”

Mr Polopetsi shook his head. “He is a very kind man,” he said. “I do not think that he wants to tell me. But I think that this thing has happened anyway. I think that I shall have to go soon. Maybe tomorrow. I do not know.”

Mma Ramotswe rose to her feet. “We will go and speak to him,” she said. “You come with me, Rra.”

Mr Polopetsi raised a hand. “No, Mma. Please, no. I do not want to make a fuss.”

But Mma Ramotswe had brushed aside his objections and had ushered him out of the office and into the garage, where Mr

J.L.B. Matekoni was standing over a handsome red car, deep in thought, contemplating its exposed engine.

“These people who make these cars are trying to make our lives difficult,” he said. “They put in all these computers and what

IN THE COMPANY OF CHEERFUL LADIES 227

are we to do when they go wrong? They are trying to make cars into space ships, that is what they are doing. But we do not need space ships here in Botswana. We need good cars with engines that do not mind the dust. That is what we need.”

“You should write to the people who make these cars,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You could tell them.”

“They would not listen to me,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “I am just one man. I am just Mr J.L.B. Matekoni of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. They would look at my letter in Japan or America and say, ‘Who is this Mr J.L.B. Matekoni? Do we know him? What is he writing to us about?’ And then they will throw my letter in the bin. That is what would happen. I am not important.”