“It means that you have the best sort of face,” said Mma Soleti, finishing her examination. “Botswana faces are honest faces. There are some faces that are very different, I’m afraid. Those people have faces that are full of anger or anxiety or all those things—negative things.”

“I see.”

“Yes, Mma. That is what I meant.” She lowered the magnifying glass and sat down opposite Mma Ramotswe. “Now, Mma,” she continued, “we need to talk about your skin. There are some big holes in it.”

Mma Ramotswe gasped. “Holes in my skin?”

Mma Soleti reached out and took her hand. “Don’t worry, my sister. They are just what we call enlarged pores. They are normal. Most people have some enlarged pores. They let grease out. Very greasy people have many of them; people who are not so greasy do not have so many.”

“That’s a relief, Mma.”

“Yes,” said Mma Soleti. “You need not worry. Your skin is actually very good. But we can do something to make those enlarged pores go away. There are some cleansers that we can use to get all the impurities out, and then the skin will take care of itself.”

The beautician rose from her chair and opened the cupboard behind her. Leaning forward to read the labels, after a few minutes she chose a jar with a white and silver label. “This is very good,” she said. “If you apply this at night before you go to bed, it will do its work while you are asleep. Many of my customers have been made very happy by this cream.”

Mma Ramotswe took the open jar from Mma Soleti and sniffed at it. She liked the smell. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying …”

“No harm at all,” said Mma Soleti, taking the jar back from her and slipping it into a paper bag. “You are very wise, Mma. That will last you for maybe one month. Then you can get some more.”

The cream was less expensive than Mma Ramotswe had feared. She paid, and then accepted Mma Soleti’s offer of a cup of tea. Her favourable impression of the beautician had grown stronger, and she did not resent the purchase she had been rather press-ganged into making. But now, she decided, she might get her share of benefit from the encounter.

“You have many clients, Mma?” she asked.

Mma Soleti nodded. “More than ever, Mma. This month was busier than last month, and last month was busier than the month before.”

“You must see everything, Mma. In this job of yours you must see everything.”

Mma Soleti looked at her sideways. “Are you asking me that as a private detective, Mma? Is that why you are asking?”

She’s clever, thought Mma Ramotswe; this woman understands. “As a detective,” she confessed.

“You’re very honest, Mma. I like that.”

Mma Ramotswe waited for her question to be answered.