“But Charlie said something else,” added Mma Makutsi. “He said something about a pumpkin.”

Mma Ramotswe looked up sharply. “A pumpkin?”

“Yes,” said Mma Makutsi. “He said that Mr J.L.B. Matekoni should not think that he was all bad. He said that he should remember that he had given you a pumpkin.”

“I see,” said Mma Ramotswe, and then, again, “I see.”

She gazed out of the window. So it was Charlie who had brought that pumpkin, which meant that the man under the bed was not the person who had brought it, and this in turn meant that she still did not know the identity of the intruder. It was certainly not Charlie, because she would have recognised him, so … She stopped. An idea came to her, and it was an icy one. Perhaps it had been Note Mokoti under her bed. But she put that out of her mind, as there was no point in scaring herself after the event.

“Well, just think of that,” said Mma Ramotswe to Mma Makutsi. “Charlie brought me a pumpkin! Don’t young men do strange things, Mma Makutsi?” And everybody might be kind, she thought to herself—even a young man like Charlie, with his thoughts of women and his vanity and all the rest.

“They do,” agreed Mma Makutsi. “Especially that young man.” She would not mention her tea-pot again, but she had not forgotten.

Of course, Charlie’s return had raised issues about Mr Polopetsi’s future. Mr Polopetsi himself had been silent when Charlie had been re-engaged. He had continued to work conscientiously, but he had noticed Charlie’s hostile glances and seen the two apprentices whispering to one another and looking in his direction. He had assumed that the return of the apprentice would mean the end of his job, and there was a resignation about his manner that day and the next. At last, waiting for a quiet moment, he had slipped into the office and spoken to Mma Ramotswe.

“I have come to thank you, Mma,” he blurted out. “Now that my job is over, I am coming to thank you for what you did for me. I have been happy here. You have been kind to me.”

Mma Ramotswe looked up from her desk. “I do not know what you are talking about, Rra,” she said. “What is over? What are you talking about?”

“My job,” he said. “The apprentice has come back. Now there will be no more work for me.”

Mma Ramotswe, who had been adding up garage receipts, put down her pen and looked at Mr Polopetsi.

“I do not think your job is finished,” she said. “Has Mr J.L.B. Matekoni said anything to you?”