Morality for Beautiful Girls by Smith Alexander Mccall

Author:Smith, Alexander Mccall [Smith, Alexander Mccall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anchor Books
Published: 2001-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

THE TREE was easily identified. It stood a short distance from the main entrance to the Ministry, a large acacia tree with a wide canopy that provided a wide circle of shade on the dusty ground below. Immediately beside the trunk were several strategically placed stones—comfortable seats for anyone who might wish to sit under the tree and watch the daily business of Gaborone unfold before him. Now, at five minutes to one, the stones were unoccupied.

Mma Ramotswe chose the largest of the stones and settled herself upon it. She had brought with her a large flask of tea, two aluminum mugs, and four corned beef sandwiches made with thickly cut slices of bread. She took out one of the mugs and filled it with bush tea. Then she leaned back against the trunk of the tree and waited. It was pleasant to be seated there in the shade, with a mug of tea, watching the passing traffic. Nobody paid the slightest attention to her, as it was an entirely normal thing to see: a well-built woman under a tree.

Shortly after ten past one, when Mma Ramotswe had finished her tea and was on the point of dozing off in her comfortable place, a figure emerged from the front of the Ministry and walked over towards the tree. As he drew near, Mma Ramotswe jolted herself to full wakefulness. She was on duty now, and she must make the most of the opportunity to talk to Mr Sipoleli, if that, as she expected, was the person now approaching her.

The man was wearing a pair of neatly pressed blue trousers, a short-sleeved white shirt, and a dark brown tie. It was exactly what one would expect a junior civil servant, in the clerical grade, to wear. And as if to confirm the diagnosis, there was a row of pens tucked neatly into his shirt pocket. This was clearly the uniform of the junior clerk, even if it was being worn by a man in his late forties. This, then, was a clerk who was stuck where he was and was not going any further.

The man approached the tree cautiously. Staring at Mma Ramotswe, it seemed as if he wanted to say something but could not quite bring himself to speak.

Mma Ramotswe smiled at him. “Good afternoon, Rra,” she said. “It is hot today, is it not? That is why I am under this tree. It is clearly a good place to sit in the heat.”

The man nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I normally sit here.”

Mma Ramotswe affected surprise. “Oh? I hope that I am not sitting on your rock, Rra. I found it here and there was nobody sitting on it.”

He made an impatient gesture with his hands. “My rock? Yes it is, as a matter of fact. That is my rock. But this is a public place and anybody can sit on it, I suppose.”

Mma Ramotswe rose to her feet. “But Rra, you must have this rock. I shall sit on that one over on that side.

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