The Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon Read Free

Cruiser and they set off. They lived on a farm out Tlokweng way – about half an hour from town. Anyway, there they were in the Land Cruiser and suddenly she started to cry out. Her father thought it was because the road was very bumpy; their track had been washed away in places by the rains and there were big holes in it – big ones, Mma. That Land Cruiser’s suspension…’ He shook his head, whether in admiration of the suspension’s capacity for endurance or sympathy for its ordeal, Mma Ramotswe was uncertain.
    She knew what was coming. ‘She was about to have a baby?’
    She noticed his disappointment that she had guessed, and so she quickly said, ‘Of course, it must have been a big surprise for him, Rra. I normally wouldn’t have thought of that.’
    ‘The baby was born in the Land Cruiser,’ said Mr J. L. B. Matekoni. ‘In the back.’ He paused. ‘They are big vehicles, of course.’
    ‘That sort of thing is quite common among teenage girls,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘They don’t want to tell their parents and everybody just thinks they are putting on a bit of weight. Then suddenly there is another mouth to feed.’ She paused. ‘But Mma Makutsi is not a teenager. She is a responsible woman and she has a good husband to support her and any number of babies. Her case is quite different.’
    ‘She is definitely pregnant,’ said Mr J. L. B. Matekoni, and then added, mischievously: ‘I must say, Mma, I would have thought a great detective would have worked that out much earlier than this.’
    She took this remark in good humour. ‘Actually, I did, Rra. I have suspected it for a little while but I have not wanted to embarrass her. And then…’ She paused before continuing. ‘I am not a great detective, Rra. I am a person who runs a detective agency – that is all.’
    He reached out to touch her gently on the arm. ‘You are the greatest detective in the history of Botswana,’ he said. ‘I know that. The whole world knows that.’
    She thanked him. It was now time for her to go into the kitchen and prepare their meal. You could be a great detective, but you still had to cook supper.
    She looked at Mr J. L. B. Matekoni. He had never cooked anything in all the time they had been married, except on one occasion when he had tried to bake a cake and had failed miserably.
    ‘Would you like to cook supper one day, Rra?’ she asked.
    He stared at her with incredulity. ‘What was that, Mma? I thought you asked me whether I would like to cook supper.’
    ‘I did,’ she said.
    His jaw dropped. ‘I am a mechanic, Mma…’
    ‘Mechanics can cook. Ladies can fix cars. It’s different these days, Rra. Men can do things. Women can do things. There is no work that is reserved just for one sort of person. Not any more.’
    He looked injured. ‘But what would I cook?’
    ‘Anything,’ she said. ‘The same things that I cook.’
    His injured expression now turned to one of misery. ‘But I do not think that it would taste very good, Mma.’
    She spoke gently. ‘We can talk about it some other time. I like to cook for you, Mr J. L. B. Matekoni. And for the children too. I am teaching Motholeli to cook now and she is getting better and better. It is not a chore.’
    ‘And I would teach Puso how to cook,’ muttered Mr J. L. B. Matekoni. ‘If I knew how, that is…’
    Mma Ramotswe smiled at this. ‘Yes, it is best to learn first, then teach.’
    ‘And I like to eat the food you cook, Mma. I shall try to help you more. Maybe I could —’
    She stopped him. ‘You have always been very good with the washing up,’ she said. ‘Many men are good at that.’ She paused. ‘If they remember, that is.’
     
    As it happened, Mma Makutsi did bring up the issue of her pregnancy only a few days after this conversation. She broached the subject quite casually, during a silence in the office while they were waiting for the kettle to boil.
    ‘I should tell you that I am pregnant,’ she announced. ‘I have been