Tati Monyena had responded enthusiastically to Mma Ramotswe’s suggestion that she should visit the ward that Friday. “Of course,” he said. “Of course. That is a very good idea, Mma. I shall give you a white coat if I can find one which is…” He had stopped himself, but Mma Ramotswe knew what he had been going to say, but had not, was if I can find one big enough. She did not mind. It was a good thing, in her view, to be of her particular construction, even if the manufacturers of white hospital coats failed to make adequate provision for the needs of those of traditional build.

“That will be fine,” she responded quickly. “I will not get in the way. I will just watch.”

“I shall tell the staff,” he said. “You have my full authority. Full authority.”

He was there to greet her when she arrived. He had been watching from his window, she thought, which suggested to her a certain anxiety on his part. That was interesting, but not really significant. This whole issue was not one which a hospital administrator would like; it had required an unsettling enquiry, it made people uneasy; there were far more important things to do. And of course there was probably a personal factor, as there so often was. Mma Ramotswe had asked about and had discovered that the next promotion for Tati Monyena would be to the post of Chief Administrator, a post which was already occupied by somebody else. But the woman who was in that post was also ambitious and there was a job in the Ministry of Health in Gaborone itself for which people thought she was the obvious candidate. That job was in the hands of a long-serving incumbent who was only eighteen months away from retirement and a return to a comfortable brick house he had built for himself in Otse. The last thing that Tati Monyena would want would be all these desirable changes to be disturbed by an administrative hiccup, a scandal of some sort. So of course the poor man would be looking out of his window and waiting for the arrival of the woman who was to put this whole awkward matter to bed, whose word would be final. Nothing untoward, she would say in her report. The end.

He greeted Mma Ramotswe outside and led her to his office. She saw a white coat on the chair. “For me?”

“Yes, Mma Ramotswe,” he said. “It might be…it might be a slightly tight fit, I’m afraid. But it will mean that you will be unobtrusive. It’s amazing how easy it is to wander about a hospital with a white coat on. Nobody will ask you what you’re doing. You can do what you like.”