Achievements like that, Mma Ramotswe thought, were more than enough to make up for the occasional irritation that one might feel over Mma Potokwane’s pushiness, and anyway, on this occasion, Mma Ramotswe was not minded to think of her friend’s faults. She wanted, rather, to hear her views on several difficult issues with which she was confronted. At least one of these issues was serious—the question of what to do about Charlie—and others merely needed to be aired, to see what insights Mma Potokwane might bring to them.

She spotted the matron on the verandah outside her office, engaged in conversation with one of the groundsmen. These men were important members of the orphan farm staff; they attended to all the minor tasks which cropped up on an orphan farm, problems with blocked drains, or the broken boughs of trees, or the chasing away of a snake or a stray dog.

She waited in the tiny white van until the business between the two appeared to be finished, and then she got out and walked over the dusty car park towards the matron’s verandah.

“So, Mma,” Mma Potokwane called out. “You have arrived at exactly the time I was thinking that it would be a good time to make some tea. You are very good at that.”

Mma Ramotswe laughed, and raised a hand in greeting. “And you always arrive at my office at exactly the same time,” she responded. “We are both good at that.”

Mma Potokwane called out to a young woman who was standing in the doorway of a neighbouring office, asking her to make tea for both of them, and then she gestured for Mma Ramotswe to follow her inside. Once seated, they looked at one another to see who would begin the conversation.

It was Mma Ramotswe who broke the silence. “I have been very busy, Mma,” she began, shaking her head. “We have had a lot of work in the agency, and the garage is always busy, as you know. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni takes on too much.”

She had not intended this to be a reference to the fact that some people—principally Mma Makutsi—thought that Mma Potokwane shamelessly added to Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s burdens in this life. Fortunately Mma Potokwane did not appear to interpret her remark in this way.

“He is a good, kind man,” said Mma Potokwane. “And such men are often too busy. I have noticed that round here too. That man I was talking to just then—one of our groundsmen—he is like that. He is so kind that everybody asks him to do everything. We had a bad-tempered man working here once and he had nothing to do because nobody, apart from myself, of course, had the courage to ask him to do anything.”