“Five or six years?” Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had repeated. “Oh, no. No. That is too long. You cannot hope for that. A machine is like a person. It gets tired.”

“We shall see,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You never know. There are some very old cars that are still working. I have seen some that are older than my van.”

They had left the subject there, as there were other things for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to do. Charlie had returned, as had been anticipated by Mr Polopetsi, and had asked for his job back. Mma Makutsi had witnessed the scene from the office doorway, standing just far back enough not to be seen by the chastened apprentice, but in a good position to listen to what was said. Later she told Mma Ramotswe with considerable satisfaction about the exchange.

“You should have seen his face, Mma,” she said, smiling at the memory. “He looked like this.” She turned down the corners of her mouth and gazed glumly at the floor.

Mma Ramotswe smiled. She took no pleasure in the young man’s humiliation, but there were lessons he had to learn and there was a certain justice in what had happened.

“He shifted his weight from foot to foot,” went on Mma Makutsi. “Like this. And Mr J.L.B. Matekoni stood like this, with his hands on his hips, like a teacher speaking to a naughty boy.”

“What did he say?” asked Mma Ramotswe.

“I heard it all,” said Mma Makutsi. “Charlie said, ‘I am back here now, Boss. I have been away for a few days. I have taken a little holiday. Now I am back.’

“Mr J.L.B. Matekoni said, ‘A holiday? I thought you said that you were quitting the job. I thought you said that you didn’t need to work any more? Did you not say that?’

“And then Charlie said that this was a mistake. He said that he had not been serious when he said that he was not going to work any more. He said that he had meant to say that he was going on a holiday.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “That young man has not learned anything yet,” she said. “Did he really expect Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to believe that nonsense?”

“I think he did,” said Mma Makutsi. “But then, you know what Charlie is like. He is not a boy with first-class brains. He is a forty-two per cent boy, at the most. That is the sort of result he would get in an exam. Forty-two per cent. I am pretty sure of that, Mma.”