Read Online The Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online

many years. And then he had arrived unannounced in Botswana and introduced himself as a matter of professional courtesy. Their meeting with him had been one of the heights of her professional career – indeed, of her life.
    Phuti was waiting for her reaction.
    ‘I think it is a very good name,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘And we could tell Mr Andersen that the baby is named for him. That will make him very happy, I think.’
    ‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Phuti. ‘We will only use it as his second name, of course. The first name will be a Motswana name. We haven’t decided on that one yet. There are many family names that we need to consider before we finally decide.’
    Mma Ramotswe agreed that a child’s name should be chosen with some care, and only after carefully imagining how the child himself or herself might be expected to feel about it. There was a distressing habit in Botswana of calling people by names that might have amused the parents but would dog the child for the rest of his life. She remembered a boy at school in Mochudi whose name, when translated from Setswana, meant:
One who cries at the top of his lungs.
That might have seemed appropriate to the parents of a crying baby, but it would require a lot of explaining, and acceptance, on the part of the child in later life.
    Phuti now moved on from names. ‘Grace said that she had not discussed maternity leave with you yet,’ he said. ‘She was going to talk to you about it today, but then… Well, I am talking on her behalf.’
    Mma Ramotswe made light of this. ‘Sometimes people don’t want to talk about these things too early,’ she said.
    ‘Perhaps not,’ said Phuti. ‘But I think that it might have been better if she had discussed it with you a little earlier. She will need some maternity leave, you see.’
    Mma Ramotswe said that she had assumed this would be the case. ‘I shall be able to get somebody in,’ she assured him. ‘There are always people coming out of the Botswana Secretarial College. We get letters asking for a job almost every day. We have a big file of them.’
    Phuti seemed relieved. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘But you will only need that maternity leave person for a very short time. Grace does not want to sit about the house. She wants to get back to work.’
    Mma Ramotswe was relieved. ‘I’m very glad, Rra. It would be difficult to train somebody up to be an assist – an associate detective. How many months does she want?’
    ‘Days, Mma. She said a few days.’
    Mma Ramotswe let out a gasp of astonishment. ‘That is not long at all, Rra.’
    ‘It is the modern thing,’ said Phuti. ‘We shall have a girl to feed the baby. There is already somebody there.’
    ‘A wet nurse?’ asked Mma Ramotswe. She was surprised, and wondered why this would be necessary. Phuti meanwhile looked puzzled, and it occurred to Mma Ramotswe that he might not have understood what she meant.
    ‘Wet nursing is where some other woman feeds the baby,’ said Mma Ramotswe.
    ‘That is what we are going to do,’ he said. ‘We already have a girl working in the kitchen. She will be feeding me too.’
    Mma Ramotswe tried to keep a straight face. ‘I think we are talking about different things, Rra. A wet nurse is a woman who feeds the baby with her own milk.’
    Phuti frowned. ‘From her fridge?’
    Mma Ramotswe lost the battle against laughter. She chuckled, and then went on. ‘No, from herself. Mother’s milk, not cow’s milk.’
    Phuti shook his head. ‘You mean one woman – a different woman – gives another woman’s baby the milk that her own baby…’
    ‘That is exactly what I mean,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘It is unusual, but it happens. It may be a sister or a cousin who helps in this way if the woman herself cannot manage to feed the baby. It is a kindness, you see.’ She paused. ‘There is usually a reason.’
    He looked at her with interest, and she thought, This is a man who needs to go to those classes they have for