Mma Makutsi shrugged. “I will be happy to have two,” she said. “Or should I give it to the apprentices to share? No, I don’t think I’ll do that. I will eat it myself.”

Mma Makutsi rose from her chair and began to walk across the room towards the kettle. Mma Ramotswe noticed immediately that she was walking in an unusual way. Her steps were small and she appeared to totter as she put one leg before the other. The new shoes, of course; she had collected her new shoes that morning.

Mma Ramotswe leaned forward at her desk and looked. “Your new shoes, Mma!” she exclaimed. “Those beautiful new shoes!”

Mma Makutsi stopped where she was. She turned round to face Mma Ramotswe. “So you like them, Mma Ramotswe?”

Mma Ramotswe did not hesitate. “Of course I do,” she said. “They look very good on you.”

Mma Makutsi smiled modestly. “Thank you, Mma. I am just breaking them in at the moment. You know how that takes a bit of time.”

Mma Ramotswe did know. And she knew too, but did not say anything, that there were some pairs of shoes that would never be broken in. Shoes that were too small were usually too small for a reason: they were intended for people with small feet. “You’ll get used to them,” she said. But her voice lacked conviction.

Mma Makutsi continued her journey to the kettle—painfully, thought Mma Ramotswe. Then she went back to her desk and sat down, with relief. Watching this, Mma Ramotswe had to suppress a smile. It was her assistant’s one weak point—this interest in unsuitable shoes—but, as failings went, this was not a great one; how much more dangerous was an interest in unsuitable men. And Mma Makutsi did not show any sign of that. In fact, she showed herself to be very sensible when it came to men, even if her last friend had been misleading her. He had not been unsuitable in any way, apart from the fact that he was already married, of course.

Once the kettle had boiled, Mma Makutsi made the tea—Tanganda tea for her and red bush tea for Mma Ramotswe—and she took Mma Ramotswe’s cup over to her. Mma Ramotswe suppressed the urge to offer to help her by getting the tea herself, in view of the obvious pain which walking now caused Mma Makutsi. It would not be helpful, she thought, for Mma Makutsi to know that she realised how uncomfortable she was. It would be difficult enough for her to acknowledge her mistake to herself, let alone to others.

The doughnuts were then produced from a grease-stained paper bag, and Mma Makutsi began to eat hers.