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

Mr. Polopetsi to voice his view. “She is quite right, Mma Ramotswe. She did speak to me about it—yes, she did, but all she said was, ‘I am very worried about Mma Ramotswe. She is working too hard.’ That is what she said, Mma. That was all there was to it. And she is right when she said you could fall over like a cow. You could, you know, Mma. Just like a cow.”
    Mma Ramotswe rose to her feet and, brushing past Mr. Polopetsi, she crossed the floor to where Mma Makutsi was seated, head lowered in private anguish, wiping her glasses furiously to demist them. She bent down and put her arm about her friend.
    “Oh, Mma Makutsi, I am so sorry,” she said. “I should never have thought all that…all that nonsense. You are right, Mma—I need a holiday and you have been the one to tell me that. I can see that now. I am so sorry, Mma.”
    Mma Makutsi sniffed. She reached up and put a hand on Mma Ramotswe’s arm. “I am the one who should say sorry, Mma. I am the one who sometimes is not as tactful as I should be. They have always said that, you know. They said it up in Bobonong—they said you must not speak so directly. You must be more careful. And I think I know everything when I actually do not, Mma. I do not know everything.”
    “You know a very great deal,” whispered Mma Ramotswe. “You got ninety-seven per cent, remember? You cannot get that mark if you do not know a lot.”
    Mr. Polopetsi voiced his agreement. “That is true. That is absolutely true.”
    “So,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I shall start my holiday soon. I shall hand everything over to you and Mr. Polopetsi and I shall go and sit under a tree.”
    Mr. Polopetsi clapped his hands. “That is just the thing to do, Mma.” He paused, and then added, “Which tree, Mma?”
    Mma Ramotswe, surprised by the question, waved a hand airily. “Oh, there are many trees in this life,” she said. “It does not matter too much which tree you choose, as long as you choose the right one.”
    Mma Makutsi and Mr. Polopetsi both nodded. They thought the answer very wise, although, on contemplating it a little later, Mr. Polopetsi felt that it required a bit of further consideration:
if it did not matter which tree you chose, then…
But that was not the time for such reflection; not then.

CHAPTER THREE
THE GREAT MAN-EATER OF THE KALAHARI
    “S O, MMA,” announced Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni over the breakfast table. “So, there we are.”
    Mma Ramotswe nodded. She was not sure exactly what he meant, but she saw nothing to disagree with in what he had said. “Yes,” she replied, shelving the freshly washed cooking pot in which she had prepared his sorghum porridge. “Here we are.”
    “The first day of your holiday,” he went on, licking a small amount of butter off a finger. “That is always a good feeling, isn’t it? It’s like a Saturday with a whole lot of other Saturdays stretching out beyond it. Just like that, don’t you think, Mma?”
    She was not quite sure she agreed. It was actually a Wednesday, as she had finally left the office late on a Tuesday afternoon, and as far as she could make out the day had nothing about it that distinguished it from any other Wednesday.
    “One thing I do know, Rra,” she said. “I feel that I should be going off to work, although I realise that I don’t have to.”
    He chuckled. “A lady of leisure—that’s what they call ladies who have nothing to do, isn’t it? A lady of leisure.” He paused, looked at his watch, and then rose to his feet. “There are many ladies like that in Gaborone, I think. You see them in their cars, driving around, but I’m not sure that they have anywhere to drive to. Some of them, I think, just drive round the block several times and then go home. That makes them feel they’ve been out.”
    There was a lot she could say about that observation. She might start by pointing out that the women in question had, in fact, plenty to do; that they were driving purposefully to do something