A Song of Comfortable Chairs by Smith Alexander McCall

Author:Smith, Alexander McCall [Smith, Alexander McCall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Humour, Adult, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781408714454
Amazon: 1408714450
Goodreads: 59746966
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2022-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

WE APPRECIATE WATER

MMA MAKUTSI listened attentively. She did not move, but sat behind her desk, her hands folded in front of her, her large round spectacles pushed up on her forehead. Above her, on the faded white board of the ceiling, a small gecko, so pale as to be almost translucent, stalked a fly. She let her gaze fall on that tiny hunting scene for a few moments before it returned to Mma Ramotswe, similarly seated at her desk, who was in the process of telling her of the conversation she had just had with Precious in the café at the Riverview Shopping Mall.

“I am not surprised to hear that she is depressed,” said Mma Makutsi. “When I saw her the other day out at the Orphan Farm, she told me that there was something. She said that she would talk to me about it on another day. Now I know what it is, Mma, and I am not surprised—not at all.”

“Well, there you are, Mma. She was very upset.”

Mma Makutsi unfolded her hands and gave her fingernails a thoughtful inspection. “Patience has had a very hard time,” she mused. “She is one of those people who have bad things happen to them one after the other—time after time. And then suddenly something good happens to them and we all think, At last, that person has something good happening in her life. But of course, with their luck, you see this good thing being suddenly threatened and we think, This is very unfair, but it is exactly the sort of thing that happens to that unlucky person.”

Mma Ramotswe agreed with this. She nodded gravely. “Oh, you are so right, Mma. And sometimes it makes us wonder whether there is such a thing as justice.” She shook her head. “There is, of course, but sometimes it is hard to see it.”

“But you said you had an idea,” Mma Makutsi pressed.

Mma Ramotswe hesitated. She had almost abandoned her idea, but then she remembered the look of sheer desolation on Patience’s face as she told her story and she decided that she could not stand by. She would have to do something even if it meant explaining to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni that she was taking on yet another unpaid case. He never sought to prevent her doing that, as he was a generous and sympathetic man, but every so often, when she discussed with him the finances of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, he would sigh and say, “Of course, if you perhaps did a little more paid work, Mma Ramotswe, and perhaps just a tiny bit less unpaid work, then your accounts might look a bit healthier—just a suggestion, not a criticism.” And she would listen and then point out that from the point of view of a person who needed help, ability to pay was the last thing that should be taken into account. A need was a need, no matter whether or not there was money to back it up.

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