that time was. The problem, though, was that the owner of the vehicle often did not. There had been that old people carrier that Mma Potokwane had used to transport children—that had reached its time well before it was eventually scrapped; closer to home, indeed at home, there was Mma Ramotswe’s tiny white van; and now there was Mr. Lefa Matabane’s blue saloon with its bald tyres, its cracked upholstery, and its flaking paint that he had jokingly referred to as car dandruff—a comment that had not gone down well with Mr. Lefa Matabane, who had sighed and looked at him reproachfully.
All of these cars, he thought, had simply reached their time and should be allowed to go. We did that with people. A person who was very old and very tired, who did not want to linger too long, would be allowed to sit outside the house in the morning sun and dream about the past and would not be made to run about and do things that nobody of that age would want to do. Why would people not do the same with cars?
“I think your car may be tired,” he said to Mr. Matabane. “Cars reach a point, Rra—”
He was not allowed to finish. “But it still goes, J.L.B.,” came the retort. “If a car goes, why get rid of it? This car has been going for a long time, right from the beginning. It was over in Swaziland, you know. Before it came to Botswana. It gave good service there to a man in Manzini. It was a well-known car there, I believe.”
And so there had been no alternative but to set out with Mr. Lefa Matabane for a test drive, which was inconclusive, because the evening traffic, with everybody wanting to get home, had prevented them from reaching the speed at which the groan would appear. The car had been left at the garage, with a promise that it would be looked at again the following day. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had been required to drive Mr. Lefa Matabane back home, and had been cajoled there to come inside and meet his brother-in-law, who was on a visit from Mahalapye, and who had gone on at some length about a car he had almost bought that had turned out to be stolen. It was a long story, and in spite of frequent glances at his watch, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had been unable to extricate himself for over half an hour.
Mma Ramotswe understood, of course. And it was not inconvenient for her, because there was rather more to do in the evenings now that there was a young child in the house. The helper, whose name was Pretty, had settled into the room in the back yard and had proved to be easy company and helpful in the kitchen. She was liked, too, by Puso and Motholeli, and they had all cooked their own dinner that evening, leaving Mma Ramotswe free to repair some of the clothing Daisy had brought with her.
By the time that Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni returned, the children were already in bed. Pretty had settled Daisy, who was tired and dropped off to sleep almost immediately, before she herself had taken a plate of food back to her own room. She had been shy about eating in the kitchen—“It is your place, Mma”—but Mma Ramotswe hoped that this would pass. “If you are with us, Pretty, then this is your place too.” But Pretty had demurred—“You have a husband, Mma. You will want to be with your husband.”
“She’s very easy, that Pretty,” Mma Ramotswe said to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni as they sat down together on the verandah before dinner. This was their time together, and Mma Ramotswe had always cherished it—a time when the day’s events could be talked about and put in perspective. It was a time, too, for silences—not long ones, or heavy ones, but silences during which they could think about what had just been said, or sometimes about what might have been said, but, for some reason, had not been.
“Daisy,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. And then he sighed.
“Yes,” said Mma Ramotswe.
“I’m not sure…”
Mma Ramotswe said nothing, and after a short silence, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni continued, “You see…”
“Yes, Rra?”
“It’s just that…”
And then silence, and he asked himself, How could I? How could I close my heart to that child? The answer was unspoken, but was as clear and unambiguous as if it had been announced at the top of