about it. I did not think it would rain today. I was not thinking.”
“Nobody knew that there would be rain,” said Charlie. “Everybody thought that it would go on being dry.”
“And we should never complain about rain,” said Mma Makutsi. “It would be a very dangerous thing for a Motswana to complain about rain.”
Charlie agreed; that would be unheard of. “This is very good rain,” he said, negotiating a small lake of floodwater that had built up beside the road.
Mma Makutsi said nothing. She was thinking of what she would find at the end of the journey, which she was sure would be a sodden mess. Oh, if only she had thought! Who would leave a bed, of all things, outside, exposed to the elements? Well, the answer to that was she would, as she had just done.
She directed Charlie down the narrow road that led to her house. Any hopes she might have cherished that the rain in this part of town might have been gentler were dashed by the sight of the large puddles of mud-brown water beside the road and, on occasion, on it. Although the rain itself was now easing off, there was no doubt that there had been as much of a downpour here as anywhere else; perhaps more.
“That is my house,” she said in a subdued tone, pointing it out to Charlie.
“It is a nice place, Mma,” said Charlie. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place like that. At the moment I’m staying…” He tailed off. They had both seen the bed at the same time, and were now staring at the drooping, sodden item propped up against the side of the house.
Mma Makutsi groaned. “It is ruined,” she said. “It is completely ruined.”
There was no sign of Charlie’s jaunty cheekiness as they alighted from the truck and walked up the small path that led to Mma Makutsi’s house.
“I’m so sorry, Mma,” said Charlie. “I don’t think the rain has done the bed any good. Was it an old one?”
Mma Makutsi stared at the bed that had been her pride and joy. “It was brand-new,” she said, her voice faltering with emotion. “It had never been slept in. Not once.”
Charlie poked at the surface of the velvet heart-shaped headboard. He did not exert much pressure, but the waterlogged cloth gave way under his finger, exposing sodden padding material behind. He picked at this, twisted it between his fingers, and then dropped it. “What is this red bit, Mma? Or should I say, what
was
it?”
“A heart,” muttered Mma Makutsi. “The headboard was a heart.”
“Why?” asked Charlie. “Why have a heart?”
Mma Makutsi did not answer. She had moved round to examine the side of the bed. The rain, she saw, had penetrated everywhere and there was a steady dripping of water from the lower edge of the mattress. She hardly dared raise her eyes to the velvet heart, but she did so now and saw that the water dripping from that part of the ruined bed was dyed red, as if it were blood. And she said to Charlie, in her sorrow, “Look, the heart is bleeding,” and he reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. It was an uncharacteristically sympathetic gesture from the young man, who was normally all jokes and showing-off, but who now, in the face of this little tragedy, proved himself capable of understanding, and did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS IF THE WORLD ITSELF WAS BROKEN
W HEN MMA RAMOTSWE arrived back at the office, having dropped Mr. Polopetsi off at his home, there was no sign of Mma Makutsi. The office door was unlocked, and the younger apprentice said that Mma Makutsi and Charlie had dashed off together to deal with something that had been left out in the rain. They had not said when they would be back.
“And Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni?” asked Mma Ramotswe. “Has he been washed away too?”
The apprentice thought this very funny. “He went off in his truck. He said that there was a car, an important car, that would not start because of the rain, and he went to fix it. There are some cars that do not like all this rain, Mma. You see, the
“Nobody knew that there would be rain,” said Charlie. “Everybody thought that it would go on being dry.”
“And we should never complain about rain,” said Mma Makutsi. “It would be a very dangerous thing for a Motswana to complain about rain.”
Charlie agreed; that would be unheard of. “This is very good rain,” he said, negotiating a small lake of floodwater that had built up beside the road.
Mma Makutsi said nothing. She was thinking of what she would find at the end of the journey, which she was sure would be a sodden mess. Oh, if only she had thought! Who would leave a bed, of all things, outside, exposed to the elements? Well, the answer to that was she would, as she had just done.
She directed Charlie down the narrow road that led to her house. Any hopes she might have cherished that the rain in this part of town might have been gentler were dashed by the sight of the large puddles of mud-brown water beside the road and, on occasion, on it. Although the rain itself was now easing off, there was no doubt that there had been as much of a downpour here as anywhere else; perhaps more.
“That is my house,” she said in a subdued tone, pointing it out to Charlie.
“It is a nice place, Mma,” said Charlie. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place like that. At the moment I’m staying…” He tailed off. They had both seen the bed at the same time, and were now staring at the drooping, sodden item propped up against the side of the house.
Mma Makutsi groaned. “It is ruined,” she said. “It is completely ruined.”
There was no sign of Charlie’s jaunty cheekiness as they alighted from the truck and walked up the small path that led to Mma Makutsi’s house.
“I’m so sorry, Mma,” said Charlie. “I don’t think the rain has done the bed any good. Was it an old one?”
Mma Makutsi stared at the bed that had been her pride and joy. “It was brand-new,” she said, her voice faltering with emotion. “It had never been slept in. Not once.”
Charlie poked at the surface of the velvet heart-shaped headboard. He did not exert much pressure, but the waterlogged cloth gave way under his finger, exposing sodden padding material behind. He picked at this, twisted it between his fingers, and then dropped it. “What is this red bit, Mma? Or should I say, what
was
it?”
“A heart,” muttered Mma Makutsi. “The headboard was a heart.”
“Why?” asked Charlie. “Why have a heart?”
Mma Makutsi did not answer. She had moved round to examine the side of the bed. The rain, she saw, had penetrated everywhere and there was a steady dripping of water from the lower edge of the mattress. She hardly dared raise her eyes to the velvet heart, but she did so now and saw that the water dripping from that part of the ruined bed was dyed red, as if it were blood. And she said to Charlie, in her sorrow, “Look, the heart is bleeding,” and he reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. It was an uncharacteristically sympathetic gesture from the young man, who was normally all jokes and showing-off, but who now, in the face of this little tragedy, proved himself capable of understanding, and did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS IF THE WORLD ITSELF WAS BROKEN
W HEN MMA RAMOTSWE arrived back at the office, having dropped Mr. Polopetsi off at his home, there was no sign of Mma Makutsi. The office door was unlocked, and the younger apprentice said that Mma Makutsi and Charlie had dashed off together to deal with something that had been left out in the rain. They had not said when they would be back.
“And Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni?” asked Mma Ramotswe. “Has he been washed away too?”
The apprentice thought this very funny. “He went off in his truck. He said that there was a car, an important car, that would not start because of the rain, and he went to fix it. There are some cars that do not like all this rain, Mma. You see, the
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