They both laughed. “Yes, Mma Makutsi, that is absolutely right. They are always drinking tea in those government offices. When you think of how much the Government must spend on tea …” She shook her head in disbelief at the unimaginable figures.

“We spend quite a lot on tea,” mused Mma Makutsi. “If you add it up, Mma. You have … how many cups of tea do you have, Mma Ramotswe? Ten? Twelve?”

“I haven’t counted, Mma Makutsi. And you yourself—”

Mma Makutsi did not let her finish. “Well, let’s think, Mma. You have tea when you wake up, don’t you? You have told me about that.”

“Of course I have tea when I wake up,” retorted Mma Ramotswe. “Is there anybody who doesn’t have tea when they wake up?”

She received no answer to this question, and so she continued, “I sometimes have two cups of tea before breakfast. It depends. There are some days when I seem to drink my tea more quickly than others. Then there are days when I just sip my tea and it takes a bit longer. One cup will do on those days. One cup to start with, that is: there is more tea later on.”

“And then?” asked Mma Makutsi.

“And then there is the tea that goes with breakfast. I make that in a pot and put it on the table and drink maybe two cups of tea …”

Mma Makutsi looked at her sideways, and Mma Ramotswe revised her account. “Maybe three, Mma. In fact, three. Always.”

Mma Makutsi nodded at the admission. “And then, Mma, there is the office tea. We must not forget that.”

“That is correct,” said Mma Ramotswe. “Morning tea—one cup only, though, Mma. You have seen that. Then at lunch there are two cups, and then there is afternoon tea.” She paused. “How many does that make, Mma?”

“I think that makes eight,” said Mma Makutsi. “Call it ten.”

“Ten cups,” said Mma Ramotswe thoughtfully. “And we haven’t counted the evening tea. That must be added. So maybe fourteen cups of tea in all.”

“Fourteen cups,” intoned Mma Makutsi, making a rapid calculation before continuing. “That means seventy cups between Monday and Friday. What about the weekend?”

“I do not think it is much different over the weekend,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I drink that office tea at home over the weekend.”

Again Mma Makutsi performed a calculation. “Ninety-eight cups,” she said. “Call that one hundred. There is something called reporting error, Mma. I have read about it. It is all over the place. There are many, many reporting errors.” She looked out of the window on her side of the van, as if to scan the passing bush, the acacia trees, for reporting errors.