The Woman Who Walked in Sunshine Read Online Free PDF Page A

College with a really good result…”
    Mr. Polopetsi remembered, and grinned at the memory. “Yes, of course: with ninety-seven per cent…”
    “Exactly,” continued Mma Makutsi, acknowledging the implicit compliment with a nod of her head. “And yet even with that result you might find it hard to get a job. Even with that sort of result.”
    “They were difficult times,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Things are easier now.”
    There was silence as Mma Makutsi decanted the freshly boiled water into the two teapots, stirred each briskly, and then poured the brew into mugs.
    Mr. Polopetsi sipped appreciatively at his tea. From the other side of the desk, Mma Ramotswe eyed him fondly. She had always liked Mr. Polopetsi—they all liked him—and had her business been more profitable she would have employed him without hesitation. But it was barely profitable—indeed, at the end of some months it did not even break even, and employing him would have sent the accounts deeply into the red.
    She waited for him to speak, but he did not; instead he took another sip of his tea, exhaled a slight sigh of satisfaction, and continued to look at her with a sort of benign politeness—as if to imply that being in her company was all that he wanted.
    Eventually she broke the silence. “So, Rra,” she began, “have you come to ask me anything in particular?”
    He seemed surprised by the question. “Why, no, Mma. I have no questions to ask.”
    She nodded. “I see.”
    “Yes,” he said. “There is nothing that I want to ask of you.”
    Her relief was evident. “I am glad to hear that, Rra. Many people only go to see other people when they want to ask for some favour.”
    “Except for one thing,” Mr. Polopetsi continued quickly.
    “Oh.”
    “And it is not a favour. Well, it is not the sort of favour that people usually ask other people for. I think that you might call it an offer.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “An offer?”
    “An offer of help.” He paused before continuing, and threw a glance over his shoulder at Mma Makutsi, who nodded encouragingly. “You see, Mma Makutsi told me about this holiday you’re taking…”
    Mma Ramotswe threw a glance in the direction of Mma Makutsi, who smiled innocently.
    Mr. Polopetsi noticed the glance, but continued nonetheless. “She explained that you would be taking this holiday, and I thought that I might come and work here while you are away and the agency is short-handed.”
    Mma Ramotswe held up a hand. “No, hold on, Rra. There is no money for a new post—even a temporary one. If there were such money, Rra, you would certainly be the first person I would turn to, but there just isn’t. It is a simple fact of business life.”
    She put her mug firmly down on the table after she had finished this statement—a decisive gesture intended to make it clear there could be no further discussion of a possibility precluded by economic reality. Yet Mr. Polopetsi was not dismayed. “But, Mma,” he protested, “this is not about money. I do not want to be paid. I just want to help…and to have something interesting to do. I am feeling bored at home, Mma. That is the problem for me. I am like a woman who has a rich husband and just sits about at home all day. I am like such a person, Mma.”
    After he had finished, for a few moments Mma Makutsi looked at him admiringly before she turned to Mma Ramotswe. “You see, Mma,” she said, “it is all pointing one way. You must take a holiday. You can be sure that I shall run things here. I shall have Mr. Polopetsi to help me. I shall have Charlie as well. It will be a first-class team.”
    Mma Ramotswe stared through the window at the acacia tree that grew behind the building. It was home, on and off, to a pair of Cape doves, gentle, cooing creatures that led their innocent uxorious existence in its branches. But they were not there then, their place having been taken, briefly, by a small, unidentifiable bird that perched hesitantly on a