In the Company of Cheerful Ladies Read Online Free PDF

away without picking up the pumpkin.
    That was certainly possible, but was it at all likely? Mma Ramotswe looked up to the ceiling of the Cathedral, watching the blades of the great white fans as they cut slowly at the air. No, it was unlikely that the intruder would have returned, and even if he had, would he have had the time to steal a pumpkin from somewhere else? Surely his most pressing concern, without his trousers, would have been to get home or to find some other trousers.
    What seemed much more likely was that the disappearance of the trousers and the appearance of the pumpkin were com2
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    pletely unconnected. The garment had been removed by a passerby,
    who had spotted the opportunity to acquire a perfectly good pair of khaki trousers. Then, earlier that morning, a friend had dropped off a pumpkin as a present and had merely left it there, not wishing to wake people too early on a Sunday. That was much more probable, and indeed was the solution that Clovis Andersen himself would have identified. Never go for the excessively complicated
    solution, he had written. Always assume that the simplest explanation is the most likely one. Nine times out of ten, you’ll be right.
    Mma Ramotswe jolted herself back from these realms of speculation. The service was proceeding, and now the Reverend Trevor Mwamba was ascending the pulpit. She put from her mind all thoughts of pumpkins and listened to what Trevor Mwamba had to say. He had married them, under that tree at the orphan farm, barely six months ago, on that day of which every minute was etched into her memory: the voices of the children, who sang; the canopy of leaves above their heads; the smiles of those present; and those echoing words which had marked the beginning of her married life to that kind man, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, that great mechanic, who was now her husband.
    The Reverend Trevor Mwamba now looked out over the congregation,
    and smiled. “We have visitors,” he said, smiling. “Please stand up and tell us who you are.”
    They looked about them. Five people stood up, scattered amongst the regular congregation. One by one, to a turning of heads, they announced who they were.
    “I am John Ngwenya, from Mbabane in Swaziland,” said a stout man in a pearl-grey suit. He bowed slightly, and this was acknowledged by a burst of applause from the congregation, who then turned to look at the next visitor. In turn the others revealed who they were—a man from Francistown, a man from Brisbane,
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    a woman from Concord, Massachusetts, and a woman from Johannesburg. Each was welcomed, solemnly but warmly. No distinction was made between those who were from Africa and those who were not. The American woman, Mma Ramotswe observed, was wearing a pumpkin-coloured dress. She noted that, but immediately corrected herself. This was a time of fellowship,
    and not a time to be thinking of pumpkins.
    Trevor Mwamba adjusted his glasses. “My brothers and sisters,”
    he began, “you are welcome here with us. Wherever you may come from, you are welcome.”
    He looked at his notes before him. “I am sometimes asked,” he said, “why there is so much suffering in this world and how we can reconcile it with the faith which we have in a benevolent creator.
    This is not a new objection. Many people have made this point to those who hold to a faith, and they have often rejected the answers they have received. It is not good enough, they say. Your answers do not convince. Yet why should they imagine that we can explain every mystery? There are some mysteries that lie beyond our understanding. Such mysteries reveal themselves every day.”
    Yes, thought Mma Ramotswe. There is one such mystery which has revealed itself in Zebra Drive this very morning. How does one explain a missing pair of trousers and a pumpkin that comes from nowhere? She stopped herself. This was not the way to listen to Trevor Mwamba.
    “There are many other mysteries in this world that we cannot explain and which we must