Free In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith Page B

around, and as long as it did not break down too often, she proposed
    holding on to it. She thought of it as a friend, a staunch ally in this world, an ally to whom she owed a strong debt of loyalty.
    These professional reputations meant that both Mma Ramotswe
    and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni were rather busier than they would have liked to be. So it was with some pleasure that Mma RamoI
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    tswe managed that evening to secure the hour between five and six as time when the two of them could sit on the verandah, and walk about their garden, and drink a cup of bush tea. She wanted to do this, not only to give Mr J.L.B. Matekoni a chance to unwind
    (he was, she thought, working far too hard), but also because she wanted to spend some time talking to him, alone, without Mma Makutsi or the apprentices, or even Motholeli and Puso listening in.
    They sat together on the verandah, mugs of tea in hand. The sky was of that colour which it assumed at the end of the day— a late afternoon colour of tired blue—and was great and empty. On the leaves of the acacia trees that grew here and there in the garden, the gentle rays of the afternoon sun fell forgivingly, as if the battle between heat and life, between red and green, was temporarily over.
    “I am very happy that we can just sit here,” said Mma Ramotswe. “All the time these days it is work, work, work. We must be careful or we will work so much that we forget how to sit and talk about things.”
    “You are right, Mma,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “But it is very hard, isn’t it? You can’t say to people: go away, we cannot help you. And I can’t say to people: I can’t fix your car. We cannot do that.”
    Mma Ramotswe nodded. He was right, of course. Neither of them would want to turn people away, no matter how busy they were. So where did the solution lie? Should they allow the businesses
    to expand? This was one of the matters that she wished to discuss with him—this, and the difficult issue of Charlie and the older woman.
    “I suppose we could make the businesses bigger,” she ventured.
    “You could get another mechanic to help you, and I could take on somebody else.”
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    Mr J.L.B. Matekoni put down his mug and looked at her. “We could not do that,” he said. “We are small businesses. If you allow your business to get too big, then you have many headaches. Headaches, headaches—all the time.”
    “But if you have too much work to do, you end up with a headache too,” said Mma Ramotswe mildly. “And what is the point of working so much? We have enough money, I think. We do not need to be rich people. Other people can be rich if they want to. We are happy just as we are.”
    Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was sure that they were happy, but pointed out that he would not be happy if he had to turn people away, or cut corners in his work.
    “I cannot do quick, shoddy work,” he said. “That catches up with you sooner or later. The worst thing a mechanic can see is a car he looks after broken down at the edge of the road. Such a mechanic has to hide his face. I could not live like that.”
    “Well,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Perhaps you could take another
    apprentice. A good one this time. Or you could employ an assistant mechanic—a qualified person.”
    “How would I know that he would be any good?” asked Mr
    J.L.B. Matekoni. “I cannot just employ the first person who walksinto the garage.”
    Mma Ramotswe explained that there were ways of preventing
    this from happening. They could check up on references which the candidate provided, and they could even employ somebody
    on a temporary basis, on the understanding that they were on approval. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni listened to these suggestions but was noncommittal. Mma Ramotswe changed tack; she had an idea that had occurred to her during the day and which she wanted to put to him.
    “Of course,” she began, “it might be possible to employ somebody who could do a bit of work for you and a bit of work