Mma Makutsi had stormed out of that interview and had tried to forget about Violet Sephotho. In this she had succeeded until Violet had cropped up again as the writer, both she and Mma Ramotswe had suspected, of a series of anonymous letters of an insulting nature, some of which made reference to large glasses. That had resulted in a spectacular chase through the aisles of the supermarket at the River Walk shopping centre, and since then Violet had not been heard of or seen. And now here she was, turning up in the very heart of Mma Makutsi's camp, as a new employee—in the beds section—of the Double Comfort Furniture Shop.

Phuti was unaware of the full perfidy of his new employee. He had detected a certain coldness on his fiancée's part when he had mentioned that he had given Violet a job, but he had put this down to some old rivalry at the Botswana Secretarial College— a minor clash of personalities, perhaps—that would soon be forgotten. He had no idea, of course, that Violet had come to work in his shop with a very clear aim. Mma Makutsi, being a woman, had worked out what this aim was, whereas a man, particularly a trusting and rather innocent man like Phuti, would never suspect.

“So, Mma,” he said when Violet reported to the office early on Monday morning. “You are here in good time. It is only …” He looked at his watch. The shop opened at eight o'clock and it was barely half past seven.

Violet smiled at him. “I always like to be at work on time,” she said. “It is best to be completely ready when the first customers come. I have always thought that, Rra.”

Phuti nodded his approval. “That is the best attitude,” he said. “I have seen customers walk out of shops because the staff were not ready to assist them.”

“I cannot stand that sort of thing,” said Violet. “The customer is always right.”

Again Phuti indicated his approval. “That is rule number one in this establishment,” he said. “And I'm very glad that you know that, Mma.”

“Please call me Violet, Rra,” she said. “I would prefer that. It is more friendly, I think.”

“If you wish, Mma. I usually call members of my staff by their first names, if that is what they want.”

“I do want it, Rra. You can even call me Vi, if you wish. Some people who are very close to me call me that. It is short for Violet, you see.”

After Violet had signed the staff contract, Phuti accompanied her to the new beds section, where she was to preside as assistant manager. Then he began to show her the beds and to tell her about the relative merits of each of the ten or so models that they carried.

“Most of the beds we stock are double beds,” he said.

“That is nice,” said Violet. “That is less lonely. Who wants a single bed these days?”