The Good Husband of Zebra Drive Read Online Free

isn’t. That’s why I sometimes think that it would be nice not to have to work. Then you could go to the shops whenever you wanted.”
    Silence again descended on the office. For Mma Ramotswe, the meaning of Mma Makutsi’s comment was quite clear. It had occurred to her before now that her assistant’s engagement to a wealthy man might mean her departure from the agency, but she had quickly put the idea out of her mind; it was a possibility so painful, so unwelcome, that it simply did not bear thinking about. Mma Makutsi might have her little ways, but her value as a friend and colleague was inestimable. Mma Ramotswe could not imagine what it would be like to sit alone in her office, drinking solitary cups of bush tea, unable to discuss the foibles of clients with a trusted confidante, unable to share ideas about difficult cases, unable to exchange a smile over the doings of the apprentices. Now she felt ashamed of herself for having begrudged Mma Makutsi her shopping trip during working hours. What did it matter if a conscientious employee slipped out of the office from time to time? Mma Ramotswe herself had done that on numerous occasions, and had never felt guilty about it. Of course, she was the owner of the business and had nobody to account to apart from herself, but that fact alone did not justify having one rule for herself and one for Mma Makutsi.
    Mma Ramotswe cleared her throat. “Of course, one might always take a few hours off in the afternoon. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. One cannot work all the time, you know.”
    Mma Makutsi was listening. If she had intended her remark to be a warning, then it had been well heeded. “Actually, I did just that the other day, Mma,” she said casually. “I knew that you wouldn’t mind.”
    Mma Ramotswe was quick to agree. “Of course not. Of course not, Mma.”
    Mma Makutsi smiled. This was the response she had hoped for, but Mma Ramotswe could not be let off that easily. “Thank you.” She looked out of the window for a moment before continuing. “Mind you, it must be a very nice, free feeling not to work at all.”
    â€œDo you really think so, Mma?” asked Mma Ramotswe. “Don’t you think you’d become bored rather quickly? Particularly if you left a job like this, which is such an interesting one. I would miss it very badly, I’m afraid.”
    Mma Makutsi appeared to give the matter some thought. “Maybe,” she said, non-committedly. And then added, as if to emphasise the doubtfulness of Mma Ramotswe’s proposition, “Perhaps.”
    The matter was left at that. Mma Makutsi had made her point—that she was now a woman who did not actually need the job she occupied, and who would go shopping if she wished; and for her part, Mma Ramotswe had been made to understand that there had been a subtle shift in power, like a change in the wind, barely noticeable, but nonetheless there. She had always been a considerate employer, but her seniority in age, and in the business, had lent her a certain authority that Mma Makutsi had always recognised. Now that things appeared to be changing, she wondered if it would be Mma Makutsi, rather than herself, who decided when tea break was to be. And would it stop at that? There was always Mr. Polopetsi to be considered. He was the exceedingly mild man to whom Mma Ramotswe had given a job—of sorts—after she had knocked him off his bicycle and had heard of his misfortunes. He had proved to be a keen worker, capable of helping Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni in the garage as well as taking on small tasks for the agency. He was both unobtrusive and eager to please, but she had already heard Mma Makutsi referring to him as “my assistant” in a tone of voice that was distinctly proprietorial, even though there had never been any question but that she was herself an assistant detective. Mma Ramotswe wondered