Part 13 (1/2)

”You can sit down,” said her mother. ”This lady wants to talk to you about the beauty compet.i.tion.”

Patricia nodded. ”I am very excited about it, Mma. I know that I won't win, but I am still very excited.”

Don' t be too sure about that, thought Mma Makutsi, but did not say anything.

”Her aunt has made her a very nice dress for the compet.i.tion,” said the mother. ”She has spent a lot of money on it and it is very fine material. It is a very good dress.”

”But the other girls will be more beautiful,” said Patricia. ”They are very smart girls. They live in Gaborone. There is even one who is a student at the university. She is a very clever girl that one.”

And bad, thought Mma Makutsi.

”You must not think that you will lose,” interjected the mother. ”That is not the way to go into a compet.i.tion. If you think that you will lose, then you will never win. What if Seretse Khama had said: We will never get anywhere. Then where would Botswana be today? Where would it be?”

Mma Makutsi nodded her agreement. ”That is no way to set out,” she said. ”You must think: I can win. Then you may win. You never know.”

Patricia smiled. ”You are right. I shall try to be more determined. I shall do my best.”

”Good,” said Mma Makutsi. ”Now tell me, what would you like to do with your life?”

There was a silence. Both Mma Makutsi and the mother looked expectantly at Patricia.

”I would like to go to the Botswana Secretarial College,” replied Patricia.

Mma Makutsi looked at her, watching her eyes. She was not lying. This was a wonderful girl, a truthful girl, one of the finest girls in Botswana, quite beyond any doubt.

”That is a very fine college,” she said. ”I am a graduate of it myself.” She paused, and then decided to go ahead. ”In fact, I got 97 percent there.”

Patricia sucked in her breath. ”Ow! That is a very high mark, Mma. You must be very clever.”

Mma Makutsi laughed dismissively. ”Oh no, I worked hard. That was all.”

”But it is very good,” said Patricia. ”You are very lucky, Mma, to be pretty and clever too.”

Mma Makutsi was at a loss for words. She had not been called pretty before, or not by a stranger. Her aunts had said that she should try to make something of what looks she had, and her mother had made a similar remark; but n.o.body had called her pretty, except this young woman, still in her late teens, who was herself so obviously pretty.

”You are very kind,” she said.

”She is a kind girl,” said the mother. ”She has always been a kind girl.”

Mma Makutsi smiled. ”Good,” she said. ”And do you know something? I think that she has a very good chance of winning that compet.i.tion. In fact, I am sure that she is going to win. I am sure of it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE FIRST STEP.

M MA RAMOTSWE returned to Gaborone on the morning of her conversation with the cook. There had been further conversations-prolonged in one case-with other members of the household. She had talked to the new wife, who had listened gravely, and had hung her head. She had spoken to the old woman, who had been proud at first, and unbending, but who had eventually acknowledged the truth of what Mma Ramotswe had told her and had agreed with her in the end. And then she had confronted the brother, who had stared at her open-mouthed, but who had taken his cue from his mother, who had intruded into the conversation and told him sharply where his duty lay. At the end of it Mma Ramotswe felt raw; she had taken such risks, but her intuition had proved her correct and her strategy had paid off. There was only one more person to speak to now, and that person was back in Gaborone and he, she feared, might not be so easy.

The drive back was a pleasant one. The previous day's rains had already had an effect and there was a tinge of green across the land. In one or two places, there were puddles of water in which the sky was reflected in patches of silver blue. And the dust had been laid, which was perhaps most refres.h.i.+ng of all; that omnipresent, fine dust that towards the end of the dry season would get everywhere, clogging everything up and making one's clothes stiff and uncomfortable.

She drove straight back to Zebra Drive, where the children greeted her excitedly, the boy rus.h.i.+ng round the tiny white van with whoops of delight and the girl propelling her wheelchair out onto the drive to meet her. And in the kitchen window, staring out at her, the face of Rose, her maid, who had looked after the children over her brief absence.

Rose made tea while Mma Ramotswe heard the children tell her of what had happened at school. There had been a compet.i.tion and a cla.s.smate had won a prize of a fifty pula book token. One of the teachers had broken his arm and had appeared with the injured limb in a sling. A girl in one of the junior cla.s.ses had eaten a whole tube of toothpaste and had been sick, which was only to be expected, was it not?

But there was other news. Mma Makutsi had telephoned from the office and had asked Mma Ramotswe to call back the moment she arrived home, which she had thought would be the following day.

”She sounded very excited,” said Rose. ”She said there was something important she wanted to talk to you about.”

A steaming cup of bush tea before her, Mma Ramotswe dialled the number of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, the number shared by the two offices. The telephone rang for some time before she heard the familiar voice of Mma Makutsi.

”The No. 1 Tlokweng Road ...” she began. ”No. The No. 1 Speedy Ladies' ...”

”It's just me, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”And I know what you mean.”

”I am always getting the two mixed up,” said Mma Makutsi, laughing. ”That's what comes of trying to run two businesses at the same time.”

”I am sure that you have been running both very well,” said Mma Ramotswe.

”Well, yes,” said Mma Makutsi. ”In fact, I telephoned you to tell you that I have just collected a very large fee. Two thousand pula for one case. The client was very happy.”

”You have done very well,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”I shall come in later and see just how well you have done. But first I would like you to arrange an appointment for me. Telephone that Government Man and tell him that he must come and see me at four o'clock.”

”And if he's busy?”

”Tell him that he cannot be busy. Tell him that this matter is too important to wait.”

She finished her tea and then ate a large meat sandwich which Rose had prepared for her. Mma Ramotswe had got out of the habit of a cooked lunch, except at weekends, and was happy with a snack or a gla.s.s of milk. She had a taste for sugar, however, and this meant that a doughnut or a cake might follow the sandwich. She was a traditionally built lady, after all, and she did not have to worry about dress size, unlike those poor, neurotic people who were always looking in mirrors and thinking that they were too big. What was too big, anyway? Who was to tell another person what size they should be? It was a form of dictators.h.i.+p, by the thin, and she was not having any of it. If these thin people became any more insistent, then the more generously sized people would just have to sit on them. Yes, that would teach them! Hah!

It was shortly before three when she arrived at the office. The apprentices were busy with a car, but greeted her warmly and with none of the sullen resentment which had so annoyed her in the past.

”You're very busy,” she said. ”That is a very nice car that you're fixing there.”

The older apprentice wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ”It is a wonderful car. It belongs to a lady. Do you know that all the ladies are bringing their cars here now? We are so busy that we will need to take on apprentices ourselves! That will be a fine thing! We shall have desks and an office and there will be apprentices running round doing what we tell them to do.”

”You are a very amusing young man,” said Mma Ramotswe, smiling. ”But do not get too big for your boots. Remember that you are just an apprentice and that the lady in there with the gla.s.ses is the boss now.”

The apprentice laughed. ”She is a good boss. We like her.” He paused for a moment, looking intently at Mma Ramotswe. ”But what about Mr J.L.B. Matekoni? Is he getting better?”

”It is too early to say,” Mma Ramotswe replied. ”Dr Moffat said that these pills could take two weeks. We have a few days to wait before we can tell.”

”He is being well looked after?”

Mma Ramotswe nodded. The fact that the apprentice had asked that question was a good sign. It suggested that he was beginning to take an interest in the welfare of others. Perhaps he was growing up. Perhaps it was something to do with Mma Makutsi, who might have been teaching them a bit about morality as well as a bit about hard work.

She entered the office, to find Mma Makutsi on the telephone. She finished the conversation quickly and rose to greet her employer.