“He has been trying to help Charlie.”
“Help put him in prison,” shouted Isaiah. “Yes, prison. Prison is what you get for that sort of thing. Same as last time. Same, same.” He paused. “He promised me he wouldn’t get involved in that sort of thing again. He promised.”
Queenie-Queenie sagged. “Maybe he didn’t mean it, Daddy. Maybe—”
“Maybe, maybe,” snapped Isaiah. “Everything is maybe this, maybe that.” He turned to Charlie. “I am very pleased that you said you would not do it. That shows me that you are your own man. That is very good. You have stood up to him.”
Charlie acknowledged the compliment with a nod of his head, and Isaiah seemed reassured. The anger in his voice abated.
“You do not need to worry about money,” he said. “We do not want any bogadi. If you are going to look after my daughter and make her happy, then that will be enough.”
Queenie-Queenie’s reaction was immediate. Rising from her seat, she rushed over to her father and threw her arms around him. “Now I’m happy, Daddy. I’m happy, happy, happy. And we don’t want a big wedding—next week, maybe. Just you and us and maybe the aunties.”
“You cannot get married without aunties,” said Isaiah.
“Of course not. But we do not need all those big parties and feasts and things. Just a reverend. That’s all.”
“It’s your life,” said Isaiah.
Charlie looked at him. “Thank you, Rra. Thank you.”
At his feet, Meat stirred. Charlie reached down to pat him on the head. He let out a yelp of pain and surprise. The dog had turned and nipped him. It was not a serious bite, but the skin was broken.
“He is a very bad dog, that one,” Isaiah observed, adding, “And you know something, Charlie? If a bad dog tells you he has become a good dog, don’t believe him.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A MAN WHO SAVES LADIES
IT WAS NOT UNTIL the telephone call from Mma Potokwane that Saturday that Mma Ramotswe remembered the offer her friend had made. It had been mentioned on her last visit to the Orphan Farm, when, after Mma Ramotswe had mentioned her old friend Poppy, and her plight, Mma Potokwane had suggested that she should deal with the preacher who appeared to have taken advantage of his convert. Now, over the telephone, after a few words about other issues of the day, Mma Potokwane had suggested that the two of them pay a visit to the preacher’s Sunday meeting the following day.
“I have made some enquiries,” said Mma Potokwane. “I have found out that he has a meeting every Sunday near the dam. They have some sort of braai there at lunch time and they sing a lot. Apparently, it’s quite a show.”
Mma Ramotswe had agreed to go. She was keen to see Poppy, whom she had not seen for years, and there was a degree of fascination about charismatic preachers, of which the Reverend Flat Ponto seemed to be a prime example. She believed herself to be impervious to their appeal, but she knew that many people fell for them—as Poppy was said to have done. Mma Ramotswe was a regular churchgoer, attending the Anglican Cathedral opposite the hospital, but that was different. The clergy there were real clergy, who had studied for years and knew what they were talking about, rather than somebody who had just decided to become a preacher—just like that. Poor women, she thought: To divest yourself of your financial security to benefit a…well, what was he? She thought of the expression her father had used to describe those who hoodwinked others into supporting their dubious schemes: hot-air merchant. Yes, the Reverend Flat Ponto, with his strangely named Church of Christ, Mechanic, would undoubtedly be the worst sort of charlatan—one who preyed on vulnerable women and tricked them out of their money. Such people deserved to be stopped, and if Mma Potokwane could do that—using her justly celebrated ability to cut through nonsense of every sort—then Mma Ramotswe would be pleased to see that happen. And it might even take place, she thought, that Sunday, in the midst of whatever trickery the preacher had lined up for his gullible followers.
Mma Ramotswe arranged to collect Mma Potokwane in her white van on Sunday morning. She would arrive in time for her to give a report to Mma Tsepole on Daisy’s progress before they set off for the picnic grounds near the dam. Mma Potokwane had been pleased to hear that Daisy had settled in so well,