Fanwell, though, said that he knew exactly where the bakery was, and had given her precise instructions. “You go up Kudumatse Road, Mma,” he said, “and then you are in Extension 23. That is where that man who was having that affair with that lady lived—the man who was married to that lady wrestler—you remember her, Mma? Charlie told me all about that case.”

Mma Ramotswe nodded. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency had been approached by the wife of the errant husband and had quickly laid bare what was happening.

“I felt very sorry for that man,” said Fanwell. “He didn’t know what was coming to him. Is he out of hospital yet, Mma?”

“I think he is,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I saw him at the shops at Riverwalk. He was reading a long shopping list in the supermarket.”

“He has learned to be obedient then,” said Fanwell.

Mma Ramotswe smiled. “Be careful when you choose a wife, Fanwell.”

“I shall be very careful, Mma. I will not marry a lady who likes to wrestle.”

“I think that’s wise, Fanwell—on balance.”

He grinned. “Do you think anybody will marry me, Mma Ramotswe?”

She did not hesitate. “There will be young women, Fanwell. They would love a nice young man like you.”

“And Charlie?” asked Fanwell. “Will anybody marry Charlie?”

She remembered the man in the housing office and his request that she should help him find a bride. She had rashly offered to help, but how could she? How could she assume responsibility for all the disappointments of the world—for all the yearnings and searches of those who had not found what they wanted to find? Was that her role in life?

Fanwell wanted an answer. “I asked you, Mma: Will anybody marry Charlie?”

She said that the answer was yes, but she saw greater difficulties there. “Charlie is a very big man with the ladies, Fanwell, as you might have observed. Men who are very big with the ladies often have no judgement as to what qualities to look for in a wife. It’s the same with the ladies who are very big with the men—they often don’t understand what will make a good husband.”

Fanwell looked thoughtful. “A good husband? Like Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni? He’s a good husband to you, Mma, I think.”

Mma Ramotswe smiled. “He is the best husband in Botswana, Rra. That is well known.”

“Better than Phuti Radiphuti, Mma? He is a good husband to Mma Makutsi, I think, but maybe not as good a husband as Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. Perhaps Phuti is a Good Husband, Division Two.”

Mma Ramotswe dealt with this quickly. “I don’t think we should compare people, Fanwell. I would not say one is better than the other.” She gave him a warning look. “I wouldn’t like Mma Makutsi to hear that I had been saying that her husband is not as good as mine.”