“Do not spoil those children,” shouted Mma Potokwane from her window. “They are very bad children, those ones.”

The children laughed and scampered off, while Mr J.L.B. Matekoni walked through the office door. Inside, he found Mma Potokwane, her husband, who was a retired policeman, and a couple of the housemothers. Each had a mug of tea and a plate with a piece of fruitcake on it.

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni sipped on his tea as Mma Potokwane told him about the problems they were having with one of their borehole pumps. The pump was overheating after less than half an hour’s use and they were worried that it would seize up altogether.

“Oil,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “A pump without oil gets hot. There must be a leak. A broken seal or something like that.”

“And then there are the brakes on the minibus,” said Mr Potokwane. “They make a very bad noise now.”

“Brake pads,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “It’s about time we replaced them. They get so much dust in them in this weather and it wears them down. I’ll take a look, but you’ll probably have to bring it into the garage for the work to be done.”

They nodded, and the conversation moved to events at the orphan farm. One of the orphans had just been given a job and would be moving to Francistown to take it up. Another orphan had received a pair of running shoes from a Swedish donor who sent gifts from time to time. He was the best runner on the farm and now he would be able to enter in competitions. Then there was a silence, and Mma Potokwane looked expectantly at Mr J.L.B. Matekoni.

“I hear that you have some news,” she said after a while. “I hear that you’re getting married.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni looked down at his shoes. They had told nobody, as far as he knew, but that would not be enough to stop news getting out in Botswana. It must have been his maid, he thought. She would have told one of the other maids and they would have spread it to their employers. Everybody would know now.

“I’m marrying Mma Ramotswe,” he began. “She is …”

“She’s the detective lady, isn’t she?” said Mma Potokwane. “I have heard all about her. That will make life very exciting for you. You will be lurking about all the time. Spying on people.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni drew in his breath. “I shall be doing no such thing,” he said. “I am not going to be a detective. That is Mma Ramotswe’s business.”

Mma Potokwane seemed disappointed. But then, she brightened up. “You will be buying her a diamond ring, I suppose,” she said. “An engaged lady these days must wear a diamond ring to show that she is engaged.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni stared at her. “Is it necessary?” he asked.

“It is very necessary,” said Mma Potokwane. “If you read any of the magazines, you will see that there are advertisements for diamond rings. They say that they are for engagements.”