“You are very kind to see me,” she said as she sat down on the chair in front of Mma Ramotswe’s desk. “I can imagine how busy you must be.”

“Sometimes I am busy,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And then sometimes I am not. I am not busy today. I am just sitting here.”

“That is very good,” said Mma Holonga. “It is good just to sit sometimes. I like to do that, if I get the chance. I just sit.”

“There is a lot to be said for that,” agreed Mma Ramotswe. “Although we would not want people to do it all the time, would we?”

“Oh no,” said Mma Holonga hurriedly. “I would never recommend that.”

For a few moments there was silence. Mma Ramotswe looked at the woman in front of her. As the newspaper photographs had suggested, she was traditionally built about the face, but also everywhere else, and her dress was straining at the sides. She should move up a size or two, thought Mma Ramotswe, and then those panels on the side would not look as if they were about to rip. There really was no point in fighting these things: it is far better to admit one’s size and indeed there is even a case for buying a slightly larger size. That gives room for manoeuvre.

Mma Holonga was also taking the opportunity to sum up Mma Ramotswe. Comfortable, she thought; not one of these undernourished modern ladies. That is good. But her dress is a bit tight, and she should think of getting a slightly larger size. But she has a friendly face-a good, old-fashioned Botswana face that one can trust, unlike these modern faces which one saw so much of these days.

“I am glad that I came to see you,” said Mma Holonga. “I had heard that you were a good person for this sort of thing. That’s what people tell me.”