The Woman Who Walked in Sunshine by Alexander McCall Smith

point but now largely forgotten by those responsible for maintaining it. Putting the van into gear, she turned down this road, thinking as the van bumped along its way of what she would say to Mma Makutsi. “Not just any school of secretarial studies, Mma, but the No. 1 Ladies’ College…” Mma Makutsi would be indignant, of course; she was proud of the agency’s name, and the thought that somebody should be using part of it in direct competition with her own alma mater, the Botswana Secretarial College, would undoubtedly distress her.
    The building was only a short distance down the road. It was part of a small block that consisted of a bakery, an accountant’s office, a paint depot, and there, at the end, a set of premises under renovation but already boasting a large, freshly painted sign identifying it as the No. 1 Ladies’ College. Mma Ramotswe drew up directly outside the front door.
    A man dressed in a painter’s outfit appeared from round the side of the building. Getting out of the van, Mma Ramotswe approached him and greeted him in the traditional way.
    “
Dumela,
Rra. Are you well?”
    The man, who had been carrying a small ladder, rested the ladder against the wall. “
Dumela,
Mma. I am very well.”
    He looked at her expectantly.
    “This is a new business, is it, Rra?”
    The man nodded. “It will be opening next week, I think. I am just finishing some of the painting. Then it will be ready.”
    Mma Ramotswe smiled. “It will be very popular, I think. There are many people wanting this sort of qualification these days.”
    The man looked at her shrewdly. “Do you think so, Mma?”
    She had not expected this. “Well, yes, I do. There is always a good demand for people who can do secretarial work. There are plenty of good office jobs going.”
    The man shrugged. “Maybe.” He hesitated. “But who is going to do the teaching, Mma? That is what I’d like to know. There is only one person running this place, I think.”
    Mma Ramotswe stiffened. It would be easy to ask directly, but she thought that it might be better to do so more tactfully. People could clam up if you appeared to be too interested in finding out something.
    “Well, there are many one-man businesses, Rra…or one-lady businesses, should I say?”
    The man shrugged again. “Everything done by her? By that one lady? I don’t think so, Mma.”
    “Why do you say that, Rra?” She still had not asked the name.
Painted fingernails…painted fingernails…
These were common enough; just about everybody had painted fingernails. But long, scratchy ones…
    “Because I do not think that one teacher can run a whole college.”
    Mma Ramotswe made a dismissive gesture. “But she won’t run the whole college by herself. There will be other teachers, surely.”
    The man picked up his ladder. “I haven’t seen any, Mma. When she comes round here, it’s just her. And inside…” He tossed his head in the direction of the front door. “Inside there is only one desk in the office. Just one. One desk and one chair.” He gave Mma Ramotswe a challenging look. “Will the other teachers not sit down, Mma?”
    “Maybe they’ll come in and teach their lessons and then go. In many places like this the teachers are part-time.”
    He made a disbelieving sound. “And where are the seats for the students?”
    “There are no seats at all, Rra?”
    “Four chairs,” he said. “Four chairs and one desk that isn’t very big. That is all, Mma.” He began to move away. “I think this college is a college for ghosts, Mma—that’s what I think.”
    Mma Ramotswe took a step back towards her van, but then she half turned and said, “Oh, one thing, Rra…who is this lady?”
    But at that moment, even as she uttered the question, the answer came to her. It came unheralded, but with complete certainty—so much so that she barely needed to listen to his response, which was audible, but only just, for there was at that moment a rumble of thunder. She