While Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni imagined that he was responsible for others, they imagined that they were responsible for him. Mma Makutsi, for example, had taken her role within the garage with immense seriousness. She had changed the system of bookkeeping and had improved the flow of cash; she had conducted a full inventory of stock and had listed all spare parts held in the storeroom, and she had sorted out the fuel receipts, which had been allowed to get into a terrible state. All of this was an achievement, she knew, but she was still worried. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency did not make a large profit, even if it did at least make some money. The garage did better, but the apprentices’ wages were a major drain on that side of the business. If they wanted to prosper, particularly when bank charges were going up, they would just have to find more business, or-and this she found an intriguing possibility-they would have to diversify. It had been a challenge to take on responsibility for a garage; why not take on something else as well? For a moment she felt quite dizzy, contemplating the possibility of a sprawling business. Factories, farms, stores-all of these were possible if one only tried. But where would one start? The marriage of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency to Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors had been a natural development, following on the engagement of the owners of the two concerns; finding something entirely new might be rather more difficult.

The idea came to Mma Makutsi one morning when she was preparing a cup of bush tea. Mma Ramotswe was out shopping and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had driven off to look at a car which he had offered to sell on behalf of an old client. It was not much of a car, he had told her, but he regarded himself as responsible for his clients’ cars from birth to death, so to speak, as an old-fashioned doctor would see his patients through life’s journey. She took the freshly brewed tea into the garage workshop, where the two apprentices were sitting on a couple of upturned oil drums, watching a thin stray dog nose about the entrance to the garage.

“You look very busy,” said Mma Makutsi.

The older apprentice looked up at her resentfully. “It’s our tea break, Mma. Same as yours. We can’t work all the time.”

Mma Makutsi nodded. She was not interested in giving the apprentices one of the periodic dressings-down that had proved to be so effective while Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was away; she wanted their reaction to her idea.

“I’ve thought of a new thing for the business to do,” she announced, taking a sip of her bush tea. “I wondered what you would think.”

“You are a lady who is full of ideas,” said the younger apprentice. “Your head must hurt, Mma.”

Mma Makutsi smiled. “Only hard ideas make your head hurt. My ideas are always simple.”

“I have simple ideas, too,” said the older apprentice. “I have ideas of girls. Those are my ideas. Simple. Girls, and then more girls.”

Mma Makutsi ignored this, addressing her next remark to the younger apprentice. “There are many people wanting to learn how to drive, are there not?”

The younger apprentice shrugged. “They can learn. There are lots of bush roads for them to practise on.”

“But that won’t help them drive in town,” said Mma Makutsi quickly. “There are too many things happening in town. There are cars going this way and that. There are people crossing the road.”

“And lots of girls,” interjected the older apprentice. “Lots of girls walking about. All the time.”

The younger apprentice turned to look at his friend. “What is wrong with you? You are always thinking of girls.”

“So are you,” snapped the other. “Anyone who says he does not think of girls is a liar. All men think of girls. That is what men like to do.”

“Not all the time,” said the younger one. “There are other things to think about.”

“That is not true,” the older one retorted. “If you didn’t think about girls, then it is a sign that you are about to die. That is a well-known fact.”

“I am not interested in any of this,” said Mma Makutsi. “And, anyway, I’d heard that one of you has changed.” She paused, looking at the younger one for confirmation; but he merely lowered his eyes.

“So,” she continued, “I will tell you of an idea that I have had. I think that it is a good idea and I would like to hear what you think of it.”

“You can tell us,” said the older apprentice. “We are listening to what you have to say.”

Mma Makutsi dropped her voice, as if there were eavesdroppers in the darker corners of the garage. The apprentices leaned forward to catch her words. “I have decided that we should open a driving school,” she announced. “I will make some enquiries, but I do not think that there are enough driving schools. We could start a new one and give people a lesson after work. We could charge forty pula a time. Twenty pula could go to the teacher and twenty pula to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni for the garage and for using his car. It would be a great success.”

The apprentices stared at her, and for a few moments nothing was said. Then the older one spoke.

“I do not want to have anything to do with it,” he said. “After work I like to go to see my friends. I do not have time to take people for driving lessons.”

Mma Makutsi looked at his friend. “And you?”

The younger apprentice smiled back at her. “You are a very clever lady, Mma. I think that this is a good idea.”

“There!” said Mma Makutsi, turning to the older apprentice. “You see, your friend here has a more positive way of looking at things. You are just useless. Look what all that thinking about girls has done to your brain.”

The younger apprentice smirked. “You hear that? Mma Makutsi is right. You should listen to her.” He turned to Mma Makutsi. “What will you call this driving school, Mma?”

“I have not thought about it,” she said. “I will think of something. The name you give to a business is very important. That is why the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency has been a success. The name says everything you need to know about the business.”

The younger apprentice looked up at her hopefully. “I have a good idea for the name,” he said. “We could call it Learn to Drive with Jesus.”

There was a silence. The older apprentice cast a glance in the direction of his friend and then turned away.

“I am not sure about that,” said Mma Makutsi. “I will think about it, but I am not sure.”

“It is a very good name,” said the younger apprentice. “It will attract a careful class of driver, and it will mean that we have no accidents. The Lord will look after us.

“I hope so,” said Mma Makutsi. “I shall talk to Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni about it and see what he thinks. Thank you for the suggestion.”

MMA RAMOTSWE completed her shopping. Before the two orphans had come to stay, shopping had been an easy task and she found that she rarely had to get supplies more than once a week. Now it seemed that everything ran out shortly after she had replenished stocks. Only two days ago she had bought flour-a large bag, too-and now the flour was finished and the cake baked by the girl, Motholeli, had been all but consumed by her brother, Puso. That was a good sign, of course: boys should have good appetites, and it was natural for them to want to eat large amounts of cake and sweet things. As they grew older, they would move to meat, which was very important for a man. But all this food that was being consumed cost money, and had it not been for the generous contributions made by Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni-contributions which in fact covered the entire cost of keeping the children-Mma Ramotswe would have begun to feel the pinch.

It was Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s idea to foster the children in the first place, and although she never regretted taking them in, she wished that he had consulted her first. It was not that she resented the fact that Motholeli was confined to a wheelchair and that she was now responsible for a handicapped child, it was just that she had imagined that something quite as important as this would have been the subject of some discussion. But it was not in Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s heart to say no-that was the problem. And she loved him all the more for that. Mma Silvia Potokwani, matron of the orphan farm, had understood that very well and, as usual, had been able to ensure the best possible arrangements for her orphans. She must have been planning for months to place the orphans with him, and of course she must have realised that they would end up living in Mma Ramotswe’s house in Zebra Drive rather than in Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni’s house near the old Botswana Defence Club. Of course, after the marriage (whenever that would be), they would all live together under one roof. The children had already been asking about that, and she had told them that she was waiting for Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni to decide on a date.