‘It is natural that he is excited,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘Men like these things just as much as women – mostly.’ She paused. ‘Well, not always, but very often.’

What Mma Makutsi said next rather surprised her. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mma. I hope you do not mind, but I do not wish to talk about something that has not yet happened – in case it might not happen.’

‘I can understand that, Mma,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘But it’s good to plan…’

Mma Makutsi shook her head. ‘I do not want to discuss it. Things can go wrong if you discuss things before it is time to discuss them.’

It was clear that there was to be no further conversation about pregnancy and no mention, therefore, of the issue of maternity leave.

Later that day, when Mma Ramotswe told Mr J. L. B. Matekoni about this exchange, he shook his head. ‘You won’t get her to change; you know what she’s like.’

‘But how can I make arrangements for cover while she is away?’ asked Mma Ramotswe. ‘I have no idea when she wants to go off, and for how long. She hasn’t even told me when the baby is due, and I can’t raise it with her.’

‘You will have to wait,’ said Mr J. L. B. Matekoni. ‘It is very inconsiderate of her, but there we are. You cannot change people who will not be changed – and that is probably even more true when they’re pregnant.’

Over the months that followed, Mma Makutsi’s pregnancy became increasingly obvious, but her disinclination to discuss maternity leave remained.

‘It’s like having an elephant in the room and not mentioning it,’ Mma Ramotswe said to Mr J. L. B. Matekoni.

‘That is a very funny remark, Mma Ramotswe,’ said Mr J. L. B. Matekoni, adding: ‘In the circumstances.’

Chapter Two

Bones Never Lie

Mma Sheba Kutso was an unusually tall woman, which was why Mma Makutsi said, ‘Here comes that giraffe lady, Mma Ramotswe.’

She said this as she was gazing out of the window in the office the next morning at the very time that Mma Kutso’s car drew up and nosed into the shade under the acacia tree that was already half-occupied by Mma Ramotswe’s tiny white van.

Mma Ramotswe looked in her assistant’s direction. She was puzzled by the reference to a giraffe lady, but then Mma Makutsi was known to say strange, unexpected things – things that often seemed unconnected with anything else.

‘Giraffe lady, Mma?’ she asked. ‘Who is this giraffe lady?’

‘That woman,’ answered Mma Makutsi. ‘You know the one – the tall one who calls herself a lawyer. She’s parking right next to your van, Mma. Don’t get too close… Ow!’

Mma Ramotswe sprang to her feet. ‘Has she hit my van?’