Chapters (22)
‘Thank you for showing me round,’ said Mma Ramotswe, offering Liso her hand to shake. He took it, and used the proper formalities, placing his right hand on the forearm of his left: a sign of respect. Top marks again, she thought… for what? For acting?
She started the van. The young man was standing there respectfully, waiting for her to leave. She caught his eye, and it seemed to her that there was between them a momentary exchange of fellow feeling. She felt ashamed. You should trust people, she thought, and not seek to trip them up or unmask them. Unless, of course, you were a private detective, and were paid by others to do just that. As she turned the tiny white van down the farm track, she found herself thinking something that had not occurred to her during all the years she had been running the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. And that thought was this: Should I be doing something else? Should I return to a world where there was no call to be suspicious? She wondered about that. That was how she wanted the world to be, and that, in a way, was what her work was intended to bring about. She sighed, and decided to focus on something quite different. Fruitcake came to her mind unbidden – a large fruitcake rich in sultanas and candied peel; the sort of cake that would torment and tantalise those on a diet. But Mma Ramotswe was neither dieting nor planning to do so, and she welcomed the vision wholeheartedly. She had not had fruitcake for a long time, and the idea of a generous slice – or possibly even two slices – seemed very attractive. It meant, of course, a slight detour on her journey back. There were two ladies in Botswana who made good fruitcake, and Mma Potokwani was one of them.