“This is very delicious,” she said as she chewed on a mouthful. “Phuti says that he knows the baker at that bakery up in Broadhurst, and he always gives him the best doughnuts. They are very good, Mma. Very good.” She paused to lick the sugar off her fingers. “You must have had a big breakfast today, Mma Ramotswe. Either that or you’re getting sick.”

“We don’t have to eat doughnuts all day,” said Mma Ramotswe. “There are other things to do.”

Mma Makutsi raised an eyebrow. It was a bit extreme of Mma Ramotswe to suggest that doughnuts were being consumed all day. Two doughnuts in one morning was not excessive, surely, and Mma Ramotswe would not normally turn up her nose at the possibility of a couple of doughnuts. Unless … Well, that would be an extraordinary development. Mma Ramotswe on a diet!

Mma Makutsi looked across at Mma Ramotswe. “You’d never go on a diet, would you, Mma Ramotswe?” The question was asked casually, but Mma Makutsi knew immediately that she had guessed correctly. Mma Ramotswe looked up sharply, with exactly that look of irritation mixed with self-pity that people in the early stages of a diet manifest.

“As a matter of fact, Mma, I am on a diet,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And it doesn’t make it any easier for me if you eat doughnuts like that in front of me.”

It was an uncharacteristically sharp retort from Mma Ramotswe, who was normally so kind and polite, and for that reason Mma Makutsi did not take it to heart. Short temper was a known hazard of dieting—and who could blame people for being a bit irritable when they were constantly hungry? But at the same time, normal life had to go on around dieters, and doughnuts were just a part of normal life.

“You can’t expect everybody else to stop eating, Mma Ramotswe,” Mma Makutsi pointed out.

Nothing more was said on the subject, but it occurred to Mma Ramotswe that this was exactly the sort of question one should put to Aunty Emang. She imagined the letter: “Dear Aunty Emang, I am on a diet and yet the lady in the office with me insists on eating doughnuts in front of me. I find this very difficult. I do not want to be rude, but is there anything I can do about this?”

Aunty Emang would come up with one of her rather witty responses to that, thought Mma Ramotswe. She reflected on Aunty Emang. It must be strange having people write to one about all sorts of problems. One would end up being party to so many secrets … She stopped. An idea had come to her, and she noted it down quickly on a scrap of paper so that it might not be lost, as was the fate of so many ideas, brilliant and otherwise.