Mr. Kereleng looked up. He was weary, with the look of one who knows that his case is no case. “She is called Violet,” he said. “Violet Sephotho.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE LADY OF THE AFTERNOON

MMA RAMOTSWE was as capable as anyone else of containing herself, but there were some situations—and this was one of them—where nobody could be expected to resist the urge to speak about something. After the departure of the unfortunate Mr. Kereleng, she and Mr. Polopetsi sat for almost half an hour discussing this latest story of Violet Sephotho’s perfidious behaviour. Both were quite shocked; they knew of Violet’s treacherous fiancé-stealing plans; they knew of her utter ruthlessness when it came to any men, fiancés or others; but now she was revealed as a downright thief and trickster, and that was something new.

It was all very well talking to Mr. Polopetsi about it. He knew all about Violet and disapproved of her strongly, but talking to a man about something like this, although satisfying, was not quite as good as a discussion with another woman, and with Mma Makutsi in particular. She had been Violet’s victim on more than one occasion, and would naturally be most interested to hear all about this new instance of her rival’s wickedness.

Mma Ramotswe had not intended to bother her assistant during her compassionate leave, but by four o’clock that afternoon she could no longer bear to leave the news unconveyed.

“I am going to check up on Mma Makutsi,” she announced to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni in the garage workshop. “I am closing the agency for the day.”

Charlie, who was leaning against the side of a car wiping a car part with an oily rag, looked up.

“Are you going to check up that she is not having a party?” he asked. “You know her, Mma. Compassionate leave? Passionate leave!”

“Do not say such things,” snapped Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni.

“That was not very kind, Charlie,” said Mma Ramotswe.

Charlie looked wounded. “I was only joking, Mma! Just a joke!”

“Can you see Mma Ramotswe or me laughing?” asked Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “Are we laughing at your joke?” He turned to Mma Ramotswe. “Tell her that I hope that Phuti is doing well and will be back on his feet soon.”

“He has only got one foot now,” muttered Charlie.

“What was that, Charlie?” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “Did you say something?”

“Charlie is only trying to be helpful,” said Mma Ramotswe, giving the apprentice a sideways look. “And remember this, Charlie: there but for the grace of God go you. Remember that.”