Part 13 (2/2)

”Here it is,” said Mma Makutsi, handing a piece of paper to Mma Ramotswe.

Mma Ramotswe looked at the cheque. Two thousand pula, it seemed, awaited the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency at the Standard Bank. And at the bottom of the cheque was the well-known name that made Mma Ramotswe draw in her breath.

”The beauty contest man ... ?”

”That's him,” said Mma Makutsi. ”He was the client.”

Mma Ramotswe tucked the cheque safely away in her bodice. Modern business methods were all very well, she thought, but when it came to the safeguarding of money there were some places which had yet to be bettered.

”You must have worked very quickly,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”What was the problem? Wife difficulties?”

”No,” said Mma Makutsi. ”It was all about beautiful girls and the finding of a beautiful girl who could be trusted.”

”Very intriguing,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”And you obviously found one.”

”Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. ”I found the right one to win his compet.i.tion.”

Mma Ramotswe was puzzled, but there was not enough time to go into it as she had to prepare herself for her four o'clock appointment. Over the next hour, she dealt with the mail, helped Mma Makutsi file papers relating to the garage, and drank a quick cup of bush tea. By the time that the large black car drew up outside the office and disgorged the Government Man, the office was tidy and organised and Mma Makutsi, seated primly behind her desk, was pretending to type a letter.

”SO!” SAID the Government Man, leaning back in the chair and folding his hands across his stomach. ”You didn't stay very long up there. I take it that you managed to catch that poisoner. I very much hope that you did!”

Mma Ramotswe glanced at Mma Makutsi. They were used to male arrogance, but this far surpa.s.sed the normal such display.

”I spent exactly as much time up there as I needed to, Rra,” she said calmly. ”Then I came back to discuss the case with you.”

The Government Man's lip curled. ”I want an answer, Mma. I have not come to conduct a long conversation.”

The typewriter clicked sharply in the background. ”In that case,” said Mma Ramotswe, ”you can go back to your office. You either want to hear what I have to say, or you don't.”

The Government Man was silent. Then he spoke, his voice lowered. ”You are a very insolent woman. Perhaps you do not have a husband who can teach you how to speak to men with respect.”

The noise from the typewriter rose markedly.

”And perhaps you need a wife who can teach you how to speak to women with respect,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”But do not let me hold you up. The door is there, Rra. It is open. You can go now.”

The Government Man did not move.

”Did you hear what I said, Rra? Am I going to have to throw you out? I have got two young men out there who are very strong from all that work with engines. Then there is Mma Makutsi, whom you didn't even greet by the way, and there is me. That makes four people. Your driver is an old man. You are outnumbered, Rra.”

Still the Government Man did not move. His eyes now were fixed on the floor.

”Well, Rra?” Mma Ramotswe drummed her fingers on the table.

The Government Man looked up.

”I am sorry, Mma. I have been rude.”

”Thank you,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”Now, after you have greeted Mma Makutsi properly, in the traditional way, please, then we shall begin.”

”I AM going to tell you a story,” said Mma Ramotswe to the Government Man. ”This story begins when there was a family with three sons. The father was very pleased that his firstborn was a son and he gave him everything that he wanted. The mother of this boy was also pleased that she had borne a boy for her husband, and she also made a fuss of this boy. Then another boy was born, and it was very sad for them when they realised that this boy had something wrong with his head. The mother heard what people were saying behind her back, that the reason why the boy was like that was that she had been with another man while she was pregnant. This was not true, of course, but all those wicked words cut and cut at her and she was ashamed to be seen out. But that boy was happy; he liked to be with cattle and to count them, although he could not count very well.

”The firstborn was very clever and did well. He went to Gaborone and he became well-known in politics. But as he became more powerful and well-known, he became more and more arrogant.

”But another son had been born. The firstborn was very happy with this, and he loved that younger boy. But underneath the love, there was fear that this new boy would take away the love that he himself had in the family and that the father would prefer him. Everything that the father did was seen as a sign that he preferred this youngest son, which was not true, of course, because the old man loved all his sons.

”When the youngest son took a wife, the firstborn was very angry. He did not tell anybody that he was angry, but that anger was bubbling away inside him. He was too proud to talk to anybody about it, because he had become so important and so big. He thought that this new wife would take his brother away from him, and then he would be left with nothing. He thought that she would try to take away their farm and all their cattle. He did not bother to ask himself whether this was true.

”He began to believe that she was planning to kill his brother, the brother whom he loved so much. He could not sleep for thinking of this, because there was so much hate growing up within him. So at last he went to see a certain lady-and I am that lady-and asked her to go and find proof that this was what was happening. He thought in this way that she might help him to get rid of the brother's wife.

”The lady did not know then what lay behind all this, and so she went up to stay with this unhappy family on their farm. She spoke to them all and she found out that n.o.body was trying to kill anybody and that all this talk about poison had come up only because there was an unhappy cook who got his herbs mixed up. This man had been made unhappy by the brother because he had been forced to do things that he did not want to do. So the lady from Gaborone spoke to all the members of the family, one by one. Then she came back to Gaborone and spoke to the brother. He was very rude to her, because he had developed habits of rudeness and because he always got his own way. But she realised that under the skin of a bully there is always a person who is frightened and unhappy. And this lady thought that she would speak to that frightened and unhappy person.

”She knew, of course, that he would be unable to speak to his own family himself, and so she had done so for him. She told the family how he felt, and how his love for his brother had made him act jealously. The wife of his brother understood and she promised that she would do everything in her power to make him feel that she had not taken his beloved brother away from him. Then the mother understood too; she realised that she and her husband had made him feel anxious about losing his share of the farm and that they would attend to that. They said that they would make sure that everything was divided equally and that he need have no fear for what would happen in the future.

”Then this lady said to the family that she would talk to the brother in Gaborone and that she was sure that he would understand. She said that she would pa.s.s on to him any words that they might wish to say. She said that the real poison within families is not the poison that you put in your food, but the poison that grows up in the heart when people are jealous of one another and cannot speak these feelings and drain out the poison that way.

”So she came back to Gaborone with some words that the family wanted to say. And the words of the youngest brother were these: I love my brother very much. I will never forget him. I would never take anything from him. The land and the cattle are for sharing with him. And the wife of this man said: I admire the brother of my husband and I would never take away from him the brother's love that he deserves to have. And the mother said: I am very proud of my son. There is room here for all of us. I have been worried that my sons will grow apart and that their wives will come between them and break up our family. I am not worried about that anymore. Please ask my son to come and see me soon. I do not have much time. And the old father did not say very much except: No man could ask for better sons.”

THE TYPEWRITER was silent. Now Mma Ramotswe stopped speaking and watched the Government Man, who sat quite still, only his chest moving slightly as he breathed in and out. Then he raised a hand slowly to his face, and leant forward. He raised his other hand to his face.

”Do not be ashamed to cry, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”It is the way that things begin to get better. It is the first step.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE WORDS FOR AFRICA.

T HERE WAS rain over the next four days. Every afternoon the clouds built up and then, amid bolts of lightning and great clashes of thunder, the rain fell upon the land. The roads, normally so dry and dusty, were flooded and the fields were s.h.i.+mmering expanses. But the thirsty land soon soaked up the water and the ground reappeared; but at least the people knew that the water was there, safely stored in the dam, and percolating down into the soil into which their wells were sunk. Everybody seemed relieved; another drought would have been too much to bear, although people would have put up with it, as they always had. The weather, they said, was changing and everybody felt vulnerable. In a country like Botswana, where the land and the animals were on such a narrow margin, a slight change could be disastrous. But the rains had come, and that was the important thing.

Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors became busier and busier, and Mma Makutsi decided that the only thing to do, as Acting Manager, was to employ another mechanic for a few months, to see how things developed. She placed a small advertis.e.m.e.nt in the newspaper, and a man who had worked on the diamond mines as a diesel mechanic, but who had now retired, came forward and offered to work three days a week. He was started immediately, and he got on well with the apprentices.

”Mr J.L.B. Matekoni will like him,” said Mma Ramotswe, ”when he comes back and meets him.”

”When will he come back?” asked Mma Makutsi. ”It is over two weeks now.”

”He'll be back one day,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”Let's not rush him.”

That afternoon, she drove out to the orphan farm, parking her tiny white van directly outside Mma Potokwane's window. Mma Potokwane, who had seen her coming up the drive, had already put on the kettle by the time that Mma Ramotswe knocked at her door.

”Well, Mma Ramotswe,” she said. ”We have not seen you for a little while.”

”I have been away,” said Mma Ramotswe. ”Then the rains came and the road out here has been very muddy. I did not want to get stuck in the mud.”

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