Mma Mateleke looked up. “You’ve heard that too, Mma?”

“No. I was asking you a question.”

Mma Mateleke looked disappointed, or so Mma Ramotswe thought, although she quickly realised that she must have misread her friend’s expression; a wife does not wish to hear news of her husband’s unfaithfulness.

“I think he’s having an affair,” said Mma Mateleke. “I think there is another woman somewhere. Some younger woman. Some younger, glamorous woman.”

“Do you know who she is?” asked Mma Ramotswe. Violet Sephotho? She had briefly entertained such a possibility in the cathedral, but no, surely not—that would be too much of a coincidence—but it would be somebody like Violet Sephotho, no doubt. Gaborone was full of aspiring Violet Sephothos.

Mma Mateleke shook her head. “No. I have not heard her name.”

“What do you know about her? Do you know where she lives?”

Mma Mateleke shrugged. “I have not seen her. In fact, Mma, I have no actual proof. All I’m saying to you is that I think that he’s having an affair. You’re the one who can find the proof for me.”

The waitress arrived and placed a tray down on the table. She was a young woman, barely into her twenties, and she seemed keen to please. Mma Mateleke seemed indifferent to her, but Mma Ramotswe thanked her, and told her that the tea smelled very good. The waitress smiled wordlessly and went back inside.

Mma Ramotswe warned her friend about jumping to conclusions. “It’s a very common fear for us women,” she said. “Most women worry that their husband’s eye might start to wander. And his hands too, Mma. That’s natural enough. But you shouldn’t imagine that he’s having an affair unless you have some reason to think that. Have you got any reasons?”

“Reasons? You’re asking me for reasons? I’m telling you, Mma, any woman whose husband is carrying on just knows what’s going on. You feel it. He sits there smiling and you think, What has he got to smile about? And then you suddenly find out that he has bought himself some of that aftershave stuff and is putting it on his face. You think, So why is he putting that stuff on now when he never used to put it on? Never? That is the sort of thing you think, Mma, and it all adds up. Then you say to yourself, He is having an affair—I know it.”