Mma Ramotswe replied that people were odd. “Never be surprised by anything people can do, Mma. They are capable of doing many, many odd things.”

“So now we’re going to have to tell her that we have found the woman she wanted us to find?” Mma Makutsi asked. “We are going to have to take her to speak to her?”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “That is a very difficult question, Mma. And I’m not sure of the answer.”

“I’m not sure either,” said Mma Makutsi. “So what do we do, Mma?”

“Nothing,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Nothing yet.”

“But we will have to say something.”

“Yes, but we need to think very carefully about what we say. And to start with, we may say nothing—and also do nothing, Mma Makutsi. Sometimes doing nothing is the same as doing something, if you see what I mean.”

“No,” said Mma Makutsi. “I do not.”

“Well, if you do nothing, then somebody may feel the need to do something, and that means that you’re getting something done by doing nothing. It’s just that it’s done by somebody else, you see.”

Mma Makutsi thought about this. Then she said, “I suppose that applies to the making of tea, Mma. That doesn’t happen by itself—somebody has to make it.”

“You are very right, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “And do you know—I have some fat cakes in my van.”

“Then I shall put on the kettle while you fetch the fat cakes,” said Mma Makutsi. “I haven’t had a fat cake for quite a while, you know.”

Mma Ramotswe said nothing, but realised, of course, that saying nothing implied something, and that was the inescapable conclusion that she had, very recently, consumed more than one fat cake.

—