But then Charlie came to mind, and that made her think again. Charlie was not aware of the feelings of others, or very rarely showed such awareness. It was possible, of course, that he felt more than he let on, but even if that were true, he could not by any stretch of the imagination be described as a new man. She had seen that term used in a magazine article she had read recently, and she had been intrigued. There were certainly new men around, but there were plenty of men who were not new men. You only had to go into any bar in town to see these men by the score, by the hundred, whereas if you went out in search of new men, it was difficult to know where to look. Were they the ones who were doing the shopping for their wives? Were they the ones who were collecting the children from school? Possibly; but when you went to the supermarket or the school, there were often rather few men to be seen—new or otherwise.

They finished their journey in silence. When they came to a halt under the acacia tree at the back of the office, Fanwell pointed to a small blue car parked near the agency door. “That car must belong to your client, Mma,” he said. “She has already arrived.”

Mma Ramotswe looked at her watch. They had returned well in time. “She is early,” she said.

“That means she will be very worried, Mma,” said Fanwell. “If somebody brings a car into the garage before the time you’ve agreed with them, that means they are very anxious about their car.” He looked at her intently, as if to ascertain that she had understood. “Same thing with people, Mma. Same thing…I think.”

Once out of the van, he went over to the blue car and started to examine it. Mma Ramotswe watched him; she was puzzled.

“Something wrong, Fanwell?” she asked.

He touched the side of the car gently, as if to answer some unspoken question.

“This car has been resprayed on this side, but not on the other.”

Mma Ramotswe could not see any difference, but then cars never meant a great deal to her. She loved her own van, but beyond that cars were an alien tribe—important and necessary, but not to become too exercised over.

“I think this car has had an accident on this side,” Fanwell continued. “I’d take a very careful look at the steering if I were driving it. Sometimes they don’t balance the wheels properly, you see—after an accident, that is. There are many bad mechanics, Mma. Every day, more bad mechanics arrive.” He paused, while he peered through the driver’s window. “And this car has many drivers, Mma.”

She frowned. “How can you tell that, Fanwell?”

“Because it is a rental car,” Fanwell announced.