In the Company of Cheerful Ladies by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

ordinary tea all along. That is why I bought this special tea-pot.”
    Mma Ramotswe listened carefully, and then she spoke. “I am the one who should say sorry, Mma. No, it is me. I am the one. I have been the rude person all along. I have never asked you whether you would prefer to drink ordinary tea. I never bothered to ask you, but I have bought bush tea and expected you to like it. I am very sorry, Mma.”
    “You have not been rude,” protested Mma Makutsi. “I should have told you. I am the one who is at fault here.”
    It was all very complicated. Mma Makutsi had switched from bush tea to ordinary tea some time ago, and then she had gone back to bush tea again. Mma Ramotswe felt confused: What did Mma Makutsi really want when it came to tea?
    “No,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You have been very patient with me, drinking all that bush tea just for my sake. I should have seen it. I should have seen it in your face. I did not. I am very sorry, Mma.”
    “But I didn’t dislike it all that much,” said Mma Makutsi. “I did not make a face when I drank it. If I had made a face, then you might have noticed it. But I did not. I was happy enough
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    drinking it—it’s just that I shall be even happier when I am drinking
    ordinary tea.”
    Mma Ramotswe nodded. “Then we shall have different tea,” she said. “Just as we did in the past. I have my tea, and you have yours. That is the solution to this difficult problem.”
    “Exactly,” said Mma Makutsi. She thought for a moment. What about Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and the apprentices? They had all been drinking bush tea, but now that there was a choice, should they be offered ordinary tea? And if they were, then would they want to drink it out of her tea-pot? She would not mind sharing
    her new tea-pot with Mr J.L.B. Matekoni—nobody would mind that—but sharing with the apprentices was another matter altogether.
    She decided to voice her concerns to Mma Ramotswe. “What about Mr J.L.B. Matekoni?” she asked. “Will he drink …”
    “Bush tea,” said Mma Ramotswe quickly. “That is the best tea for a man. It is well-known. He will drink bush tea.”
    “And the apprentices?”
    Mma Ramotswe rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Perhaps they should have bush tea too,” she said. “Although, heaven knows, it’s not doing them much good.”
    With those decisions made, Mma Makutsi put on the kettle and, watched by Mma Ramotswe, she ladled into the new tea-pot a quantity of her tea, her ordinary tea. Then she fetched Mma Ramotswe’s tea-pot, which looked distinctly battered beside the fine new china tea-pot, and into this she put the correct quantity of bush tea. They waited for the kettle to boil, each of them silent, each of them alone with her thoughts. Mma Makutsi was thinking with relief of the generous response that Mma Ramotswe
    had shown to her confession, which seemed so like an act of disloyalty, of treachery even. Her employer had made it so easy that she felt a flood of gratitude for her. Mma Ramotswe was
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    undoubtedly one of the finest women in all Botswana. Mma Makutsi had always known this, but here was another instance which spoke to those qualities of understanding and sympathy. And for her part, Mma Ramotswe thought of what a loyal, fine woman was Mma Makutsi. Other employees would have complained,
    or moaned about drinking tea they did not like, but she had said nothing. And more than that, she had given the impression
    that she was enjoying what was given to her, as a polite guest will eat or drink what is laid upon the host’s table. This was further
    evidence of those very qualities which obviously had been revealed at the Botswana Secretarial College and which had resulted in her astonishingly high marks. Mma Makutsi was surely a gem.

CHAPTER FIVE
AN ENCOUNTER WITH A BICYCLE
    FOR THE REST of that day, with the issue of tea tactfully settled,
    Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi continued with their attempts to find out about the missing Zambian. This was the office stage of the