Александр Макколл Смит - The Handsome Man's De Luxe Café

‘I am very happy with my life,’ said Mma Makutsi. ‘I find professional satisfaction in my work, and at the same time I have all the pleasure of running a home. It is a very good thing when a woman can do both of these things.’

‘Yes, we women are doing very well in Botswana,’ agreed Mma Ramotswe. ‘We don’t have to sit out in the lands all day. We are running businesses now. We are building roads. We are flying aeroplanes. We are doing all the things that men used to think were not for us.’

For a moment, Mma Makutsi pictured Mma Ramotswe at the controls of a plane. It would be hard for her to keep the aircraft level, she thought, as her traditional build would make it far heavier on the side on which she was sitting. It would be possible, she felt, to adjust the controls so that the wing on her side came up a bit, but she still imagined that landings would be a bit heavy, and bumpy. Of course it would be quite a shock if one were to get into a plane and see that Mma Ramotswe was in the pilot’s seat. It would be rude to refuse to board the plane in such circumstances, and one would simply have to put a brave face on it and hope for the best. Perhaps one could hide one’s surprise by saying something like, ‘Oh, Mma Ramotswe, I did not know that you had taken up flying. This is good news, Mma. This is a big victory for women.’

Coming into the office first, Mma Makutsi took it upon herself to have the early-morning cup of tea – as distinct from the mid-morning and late-morning cups – ready for when Mma Ramotswe arrived. This cup was an important one, as it enabled the two women to consider their plans for the day ahead. There might have been no scientific connection between drinking tea and getting one’s thoughts in order, but that was the way it seemed, at least in Mma Ramotswe’s opinion. Tea brought about focus, and that helped.

‘So,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘What have we today, Mma Makutsi?’

‘We have tea to begin with,’ said Mma Makutsi.

‘That is very good.’

‘And then… well, we have nothing, as far as I can see, Mma.’ Mma Makutsi paused. ‘Unless, of course, something turns up. And it might. Sometimes there is nothing at eight o’clock and then at ten o’clock there is something.’

‘I have a feeling there’ll be something,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘When I was in my garden this morning I had a feeling about that.’

Mma Makutsi, looking down at the surface of her desk, moved a pencil from one place to another. ‘Yes,’ she said pensively. ‘There might be something. Later on.’

‘You think so, Mma?’ asked Mma Ramotswe.

Mma Makutsi waited some time before answering. Then at last she said, ‘I am expecting some news, Mma. It might come today.’

Mma Ramotswe knew better than to ask exactly what this news might be. Mma Makutsi sometimes liked to shroud her affairs in mystery, and did not always respond well to direct questioning. So she simply said, ‘I hope that you get your news, Mma.’

‘Thank you, Mma. When you are waiting for news, it is better to get it. It is not easy not to get news that you’re waiting for. Then you think: what has happened about the thing that I’m waiting to hear about? Has it happened, or has it not happened?’ Mma Makutsi stared at Mma Ramotswe as she made these remarks. The light caught her large glasses and danced, in shards of gold, across the ceiling.

‘And if you don’t hear anything,’ she continued, ‘then you can spend the whole day worrying about it.’

‘This news of yours,’ said Mma Ramotswe, trying to sound as if the matter under discussion was barely of any interest at all, ‘will it come in a letter, or…’

‘No,’ said Mma Makutsi, shaking her head. ‘It will not be in a letter.’

‘Or a telephone call?’

‘Yes, it will be a telephone call. It will be a telephone call from my lawyer.’

This could hardly be ignored. ‘Your lawyer, Mma?’

Mma Makutsi waved a hand with the air of one who is accustomed to having a lawyer. Of course she might have a lawyer now, thought Mma Ramotswe, but she would not have had one all that long ago. Yet she did not begrudge Mma Makutsi the satisfaction of having a lawyer after having lived so many years without one, even if she had no lawyer herself, now that she came to think of it.

‘It is nothing very important, Mma Ramotswe. Just a little…’

Mma Ramotswe waited.

‘A little personal matter.’

‘I see.’

Mma Makutsi rose from her desk. ‘But we should not be talking about these things. We should perhaps be going over that business plan I drew up, Mma.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘The business plan.’

Mma Makutsi had drawn up a business plan when she had seen one that Phuti Radiphuti had prepared for the Double Comfort Furniture Store. Of course the two businesses were as chalk and cheese in terms of turnover and profit, but Phuti had told her that every concern should have a plan and she had volunteered to do the necessary work.

Mma Ramotswe took the sheet of paper passed to her by Mma Makutsi. The heading at the top read The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency: Challenges Ahead and Options for the Future .

‘That is a very good title,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘Challenges and options. I think you are right to mention those, Mma: they are both there.’

Back in her seat, Mma Makutsi accepted the compliment gracefully. ‘It is forward-looking, Mma. You’ll have noticed that.’

Mma Ramotswe glanced down the page. ‘And there is this paragraph here that talks about enhanced profit. That is good, Mma.’

Mma Makutsi inclined her head. ‘That is the objective of every business, Mma. Enhanced profit is what counts. If we were a company, that would drive the share price up.’

‘Yes,’ said Mma Ramotswe, knowing even as she spoke that she sounded rather vague. She had no head for finance, especially when it came to companies and share prices and so on, although she understood the basics and was particularly good at counting. This she had learned from her father, who had been able to count a herd of cattle with astonishing accuracy, even as the animals moved around and mingled with one another. She frowned. Enhanced profit had to come from somewhere. ‘But where do these bigger profits come from, Mma?’

Mma Makutsi answered with authority. ‘They come from greater turnover, Mma. That is where profits come from: turnover.’

Mma Ramotswe muttered the words greater turnover . There was a comforting, mantra-like ring to them, yes, but… ‘Turnover is the same thing as fees?’ she asked.

‘It is,’ said Mma Makutsi. ‘Turnover is money going through the books.’ She made a curious gesture with her right hand, representing, Mma Ramotswe assumed, the progress of money through the books. It all looked so effortless, but Mma Ramotswe was not convinced.

‘More money going through the books, Mma Makutsi, must mean…’ She hesitated. ‘More fees?’

‘Yes. In a sense.’

‘In a sense?’

‘Yes.’

Mma Ramotswe looked down at the business plan. ‘So, unless I misunderstand all this, Mma, more fees means more clients, or, I suppose, higher charges to the clients we already have.’

Mma Makutsi stared at her. Her large glasses, thought Mma Ramotswe, reflected the world back at itself. People looked at Mma Makutsi and saw themselves.

‘You could say that,’ said Mma Makutsi. ‘That is one way of putting it.’

Mma Ramotswe’s tone was gentle. ‘And how are we going to get more clients, Mma?’

Mma Makutsi opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. She shifted her head slightly, to look past Mma Ramotswe, through the window behind her.

‘There is one arriving right now,’ she said.