“Tough,” said Chobie. “These grandmothers eat a lot of food. But I’ve got the answer for you, my friend.”

Fanwell was busy lighting the paraffin stove on which the family cooked and boiled water for tea. His grandmother ate very little, saving as much as she could for the children; he had seen her holding back, had seen how thin she was. He said nothing.

Undeterred, Chobie continued: “This is a business proposition, Fanwell.”

“I have a job. I’m a mechanic at Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors.”

Chobie made a dismissive gesture. “That’s day work. You never make money doing day work. I can give you night work—big money.”

Fanwell glanced at Chobie and then looked away again quickly. “I am very busy,” he said. “I can’t do more work.”

“Everybody’s busy,” said Chobie. “But not too busy if the money’s good enough—and it is, Fanwell. It’s very good.”

“No,” said Fanwell.

Chobie got up and came to stand beside him. “I’m not asking you very much, Fanwell. All I want is for you to help me fix some cars. Three or four to begin with—then you can decide whether you want to carry on.”

“What is wrong with these cars?” asked Fanwell. “And why can’t you take them to a garage?”

Chobie became animated. “And be charged hundreds and hundreds of pula? Thousands, maybe? No, not me. These are cars I’m selling—that is how I make my living these days. All I want is a little help to get them ready to be sold. Little things. New exhaust pipes, maybe. Fixing lights. That sort of thing. Hard for me, but easy for you. You’re a mechanic.”

Fanwell remembered now: Chobie had the reputation of being persuasive. It had always been difficult to say no to him.

“I don’t have much spare time,” he said weakly.

Chobie put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “I am your friend, and I am asking you a favour. I knew that you would say yes.” He paused. “Don’t bother with the tea, Fanwell. Let’s go. I have this car over at my place that needs a new fan belt, and maybe there’s something wrong with the brakes—I can’t tell. You’ll know straightaway. Then, smack-smack, it’s fixed!”

CHOBIE HAD A CAR parked round the corner. He had paid a small boy to watch it for him while he was waiting for Fanwell, and now he gave the child the rest of the fee—a few coins pressed into an outstretched palm.