Alexander Mccall Smith - Ladies' Detective Agency 05 (25 page)

She walked over to join her cousin, who said that she would not be prepared
to do a parachute drop, even if asked by the President himself. “I would
have to say, I’m sorry Rra, but there are some things one cannot do, even
for Botswana. I cannot jump from an aeroplane. I would die
straightaway.”

The cousin’s husband agreed. He would be
prepared to give all his money, and all his cattle, to charity rather than
jump.

“You should not let Mma Potokwane hear that,” said
Mma Ramotswe. “It might give her ideas.”

Then there was a
conversation with the Reverend Trevor Mwamba from the Anglican Cathedral. He,
too, confessed that he would not like to do a parachute jump, and he felt that
the same could be said for the Bishop. For a moment Mma Ramotswe entertained a
mental picture of the Bishop jumping from an aeroplane, dressed in his
episcopal robes and clutching his mitre as he fell.

“It is
nothing, you know,” said Charlie, who had come up to join them, a glass
of beer in his hand, and clearly enjoying his fame. “I wasn’t at
all frightened. I just jumped and then bump! the chute opened above me and I
came down. That’s all there is to it. I will do it again tomorrow if Mma
Potokwane asks me. In fact, I think I might offer to join the Botswana Defence
Force. I could look after their aeroplane engines and then do some jumping in
my spare time.”

Mma Ramotswe saw that this made Mr J.L.B.
Matekoni look anxious, but the conversation moved on to another topic and no
more was said of the looking-after of aeroplane engines.

The event had
now turned into something of a party. Some of the older children, who had been
helping with the tea cups and with arranging chairs under the trees, now formed
up as a choir and sang several songs while one of them, a talented marimba
player, provided an accompaniment. Then, after the singing, Mma Potokwane came
over to Mma Ramotswe’s side and invited her to join her for a moment in
the office. The same invitation was extended to Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, and it was
explained that a very special cake had been prepared for him but that it could
not be produced in public as there was not enough for everybody.

They
went into the office. The Reverend Trevor Mwamba was already there, a plate of
cake before him. He stood up and smiled at Mr J.L.B. Matekoni.

“Now,” said Mma Potokwane, putting a large slice of the special
cake on Mr J.L.B. Matekoni’s plate. “Here is the special cake I
have made.”

“You are very kind to us, Mma,” said Mr
J.L.B. Matekoni. “This looks like a very rich cake. Very rich.” He
paused, the cake half way to his mouth. He looked at Mma Potokwane. Then he
looked at the Reverend Trevor Mwamba. Finally he looked at Mma Ramotswe. Nobody
spoke.

Mma Potokwane broke the silence. “Mr J.L.B.
Matekoni,” she said. “We all know how proud you are of Mma
Ramotswe. We all know how proud you are to be her fiancé and how you
wish to be her husband. I am right, am I not, in saying that you wish to be her
husband?”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni nodded. “I do. Of course I
do.”

“Well, do you not think that the moment has
come?” she went on. “Do you not think that this would be the right
time to marry Mma Ramotswe? Right now. Not next month or next year or whenever,
but right now. Because if you do not do something about this, you may never do
it. Life is perilous. At any time it could be too late. When you love another
person, you must tell her, but you must also show her. You must do that thing
that says to the world that you love that person. And this must never be put
off, never.”

She paused, watching the effect of her words on Mr
J.L.B. Matekoni. He was staring at her, his eyes slightly moist, as if he was
about to burst into tears.

“You do wish to marry Mma Ramotswe,
do you not?” Mma Potokwane urged.

Now there was a further
silence. The Reverend Trevor Mwamba slipped a small piece of cake into his
mouth and chewed on it. Mma Ramotswe herself looked down at the ground, at the
edge of Mma Potokwane’s carpet. And then Mr J.L.B. Matekoni spoke.

“I will marry Mma Ramotswe right now,” he said. “If that
is what Mma Ramotswe wishes, then I shall do that. I shall be proud to do that.
There is no other lady I would ever wish to marry. Just Mma Ramotswe. That is
all.”

It was a long speech for Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, but every word
was filled with passion and a new determination.

“In that
case,” said the Reverend Trevor Mwamba, wiping the crumbs from the edge
of his lips. “In that case I have the prayer books in my car and I have
the Bishop’s authority to perform the ceremony right here.”

“We can do it under the big tree,” said Mma Potokwane. “I
will tell the children’s choir to get ready. And I will also tell the
guests to prepare themselves. They will be surprised.”

THEY ASSEMBLED under the boughs of the great jacaranda
tree. A table had been covered with a clean white sheet and served as an altar,
and before this altar stood Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, waiting for Mma Ramotswe to be
led up to him by Mma Potokwane’s husband, who had offered to give the
bride away on behalf of her late father, Obed Ramotswe. Mma Potokwane had
produced a suitable dress for Mma Ramotswe, in just the right size as it
happened, and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had been put into a suit by Mma
Potokwane’s husband. The Reverend Trevor Mwamba had fetched his robes
from his car.

When Mma Ramotswe came out of the office and walked with
Mma Potokwane’s husband up to the group of people and the waiting groom,
there were enthusiastic ululations from the crowd. This was how people showed
their delight and pleasure and the sound was strong that day.

“Dearly beloved,” began the Reverend Trevor Mwamba, “we
are gathered here together in the sight of God and in the presence of this
congregation to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an
honourable estate …”

The words which Mma Ramotswe had
heard so many times for others, those echoing words, she now heard for herself,
and she made the responses clearly, as did Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. Then, taking
their hands and placing them together, in accordance with the authority vested
in him, the Reverend Trevor Mwamba pronounced them man and wife, and the ladies
present, led by Mma Potokwane, ululated with pleasure.

The choir had
been waiting, and now they sang, while Mma Ramotswe and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni sat
down on chairs which had been placed before the altar, and signed the register
which the Reverend Trevor Mwamba had also happened to have in the back of his
car. The choir sang, the sweet voices of the children rising through the
branches of the tree above them, and filling the still, clear air with sound.
There was an old Botswana hymn, one which everybody knew, and then, because it
was a favourite of Mma Ramotswe’s father, they sang that song which
distils all the suffering and the hope of Africa; that song which had inspired
and comforted so many, “Nkosi Sikeleli Afrika,” God Bless Africa,
give her life, watch over her children.

Mma Ramotswe turned to face her
friends, and smiled, and they smiled back. Then she and Mr J.L.B. Matekoni
stood up and walked down through the crowd to the place where the children had
taken more tables and where, quite miraculously, as at Cana of Galilee, the
housemothers had set out large plates of food, ready for the wedding
feast.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexander McCall Smith is a professor of medical law at Edinburgh University. He was born in what is now known as Zimbabwe and taught law at the University of Botswana. He is the author of more than fifty books: novels, stories, children’s books, and specialized titles such as
Forensic Aspects of Sleep.
He lives in Scotland.

ALSO BY
ALEXANDER McCALL
SMITH

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

Tears of
the Giraffe

Morality for Beautiful Girls

The Kalahari
Typing School for Men

Copyright © 2003 by Alexander McCall Smith

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Pantheon Books, a
division of Random House, Inc., New York. Published simultaneously in Canada by
Alfred A. Knopf Canada, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Originally published in Great Britain by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn, Ltd.,
Edinburgh, in 2003.

Pantheon Books and colophon are
registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library
of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McCall Smith, Alexander,
1948–

The full cupboard of life / Alexander McCall Smith.

p. cm.

1. Ramotswe,
Precious (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women private
investigators—Botswana—Fiction. 3. Botswana—Fiction. I.
Title.

PR
6063.
C
326
F
85
2004 823'.914—dc22 2003062379

www.pantheonbooks.com

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