Read Online The Handsome Man's Deluxe Cafe by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online Page A

write. But I do not know where this school was.”
    Mma Makutsi sat back in her chair. She was staring at Mrs. with some intensity now. “So, what is ninety-five plus two?” she asked.
    Mrs. seemed momentarily taken aback, but then she answered: “Ninety-seven.”
    Catching the light, Mma Makutsi’s glasses flashed out their message. “So you can do addition. So you were taught that. And what is the capital city of Swaziland?”
    Mrs. shook her head. “I do not know where Swaziland is,” she said quietly.
    â€œBut you do know where South Africa is? And America—do you know where America is?”
    Mrs. looked helplessly at Miss Rose, who glanced disapprovingly at Mma Makutsi. “Please, Mma. This poor lady is embarrassed about what has happened to her memory. We must not confuse her. Please.”
    Mma Ramotswe realised that she would have to intervene, but before she could do so Mma Makutsi started to speak again. “I am not confusing her, Mma. I am trying to help her. Did you know you were in Botswana? Did you know where Botswana was?”
    Mrs. remained silent and now it was Mma Ramotswe who spoke. “I think, Mma Makutsi, that Miss Rose is right. We must not upset this poor lady with questions about the capital city of Swaziland.” She paused, looking pointedly in Mma Makutsi’s direction. “I think that there are many people who do not know what the capital city of Swaziland is. I could go out there in the street and ask people, and I am sure that many of them would not know.”
    Mma Makutsi interrupted her. “But they would know where America is. They would know that, Mma.”
    â€œThat’s not the point, Mma Makutsi. The point is that this poor lady has lost some of the things that she knew but remembered some others. It seems to me that the things she has forgotten are the things about herself, while the things that she has remembered are the things that have nothing to do with her. That is perhaps the way this strange condition works.”
    â€œPrecisely,” said Miss Rose, glowering at Mma Makutsi. “The brain is a very complex thing, Mma. If you look at a picture of it, you will see all those ridges. It is like a loaf of bread that has come out of the oven very uneven. All those bumps going up and down.”
    â€œI have seen a picture too,” muttered Mma Makutsi.
    â€œWell,” continued Miss Rose, “those ridges, those bumps, are the different departments of the brain. Different matters are stored in different places. There is one section for facts and another section for feelings. There is probably a special section for love—I do not know, as I am not a brain scientist. But I am sure that there is a bit that makes you fall in love. And out of love too. I am sure there is also a department for that.”
    â€œAnd for recipes,” mused Mma Ramotswe. “Recipes have to go somewhere.”
    Miss Rose agreed. “That would be in the part that deals with facts,” she said. She started to smile. “You do not find that recipe part in men’s brains, I think. Or it is not very big in a man’s brain.”
    â€œNor is the bit for helping around the house,” offered Mrs., grinning nervously.
    It was the first time they had seen her smile, and Mma Ramotswe responded warmly. “Oh, that is very true, Mma. Poor men. No, you are very right about that, Mma.”
    The tension that had grown up around the discussion of the capital of Swaziland seemed to dissipate. The maid, a young woman barely out of her teens, brought in a tray and laid it down on the table.
    â€œYou have forgotten the sugar,” said Miss Rose crossly. “Go and fetch it now now.”
    The maid scurried out of the room, Mma Ramotswe’s eyes following her.
    â€œThat girl,” said Miss Rose as she began to pour the tea. “That girl is always forgetting things.”
    â€œPerhaps it’s