He glanced at his watch again. He would have to go off shortly for a meeting with a man who was thinking of selling his inspection ramp. Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors already had one of these, but Mr J.L.B. Matekoni thought that it would be useful to have a second one, particularly if he could get it at a good price. But if he went off on this errand, then the apprentices would be left in sole charge of the garage until Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi arrived. That might be all right, but it might not, and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni was worried about it.

He looked at the car which was being slowly raised on the ramp. It was a large white car which belonged to Trevor Mwamba, who had just been appointed Anglican Bishop of Botswana. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni knew the new bishop well—it was he who had married Mma Ramotswe to him under that tree at the orphan farm, with the choir singing and the sky so high and empty—and would not normally have let the apprentices loose on his car, but it seemed that there was very little choice now. The bishop wanted his car back that afternoon if at all possible, as he had a meeting to attend in Molepolole. There was nothing seriously wrong with the car, which had been brought in for a routine service, but he always liked to check the brakes of any vehicle before he returned it, and there might be some work to be done there. Brakes were the most important part of a car, in Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s view. If an engine did not work at all, then admittedly that was annoying, but it was not actually dangerous. You could hardly hurt yourself if you were stationary, but you could certainly hurt yourself if you were going at fifty miles an hour and were unable to stop. And the Molepolole road, as everybody knew, had a problem with cattle straying onto it. The cattle were meant to stay on the other side of the fence—that was the rule—but cattle were a law unto themselves and always seemed to think that there was better grass to be had on the other side of the road.

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni decided that he would have to leave the bishop’s car to the mercies of the apprentices but that he would check up on their work when he came back just before lunchtime. He called the older apprentice over and gave him instructions.

“Be very careful now,” he said. “That is Bishop Mwamba’s car. I do not want slapdash work done on it. I want everything done very carefully.”

Charlie stared down at the ground. “I am always careful, Boss,” he muttered resentfully. “When did you ever see me being careless?”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. It was no use engaging with these boys, he decided. Whatever he said would be no use; they simply would not take it in. He turned away and tore off a piece of paper towel on which to wipe his hands.