Of course you could not allow yourself to think too much about these issues. One had to get on and to attend to the day-to-day business of living. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency was there to solve the problems in people’s lives—that’s what they did, as Mma Ramotswe often pointed out—but they could not solve all the world’s problems. And so you had to turn away from so much that you would like to do something about, and hope that things would work out somehow for those who were in need. That was all you could do.

Mma Makutsi looked at Mma Ramotswe, seated at her desk on the other side of the room, and wondered. She asked herself whether she should say something to her employer, or whether she should remain silent. After a moment’s thought, she decided to speak.

“You are looking very worried, Mma Ramotswe,” she ventured. “Are you feeling all right?”

For a while Mma Ramotswe said nothing, and Mma Makutsi’s question hung awkwardly in the air.

Then Mma Ramotswe spoke. “I am worried about something, Mma,” she said. “But I do not wish to burden you with my worries. This is a private thing.”

Mma Makutsi looked at her. To describe something as a private thing was a big step. There were very few matters in Botswana which people would treat as a private thing; this was a society in which people knew one another’s business. “I do not wish to pry into private things,” she said. “But if you are worried about that thing, then you should let me take up your worries about other things. That way I can help you.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “I do not know which worries I can pass on to you. There are so many …”

Mma Makutsi’s interjection was brisk. “Well, there’s Charlie, for a start. He is a big worry. Let me deal with Charlie. Then you can stop worrying about him.”

For a moment Mma Ramotswe thought of ways to decline this offer. Charlie was a garage matter, and his welfare was thus the concern of Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, and of herself, indirectly, as the wife of Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. She and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had always worried about the apprentices, and it seemed perfectly natural that they should continue to do so. And yet, it was undoubtedly an attractive offer that Mma Makutsi was making. She had no idea what she could do about Charlie—if, indeed she could do anything at all. Mma Makutsi was a resourceful and intelligent lady who was quite capable of sorting out young men. She had taken the apprentices in hand before, with conspicuous success, and so perhaps it was appropriate that she should try to do so again.

“What would you do about Charlie?” she asked. “What can any of us possibly do?”