Mma Ramotswe’s first thought was that she had run out of fuel. She had filled the tank only a few days ago, and when she looked down, it showed that it was still half full. So that possibility was excluded. Nor had there been electrical failure, as the lights were still illuminating the track ahead. So the problem, she felt, was in the engine itself.

With sinking heart, she switched off the ignition and then tried to turn it on again. There was the sound of the starter turning over, but nothing else happened. She tried again, with the same result.

Mma Ramotswe switched off the headlights and opened the door of the van. There was some moonlight, if not very much, and for a moment she stood there, looking up at the sky, humbled by its sheer immensity and by the quiet of the bush. The tiny white van had been a cocoon of safety in the darkness; now it was just her, an African lady, under this great sky and with a long walk ahead of her. She would be able to reach the main road, she thought, in twenty minutes or so, and then they were about ten miles from the town. She could walk that far, of course, if she had to, but how long would that take? She knew that an average person could cover four miles in an hour, as long as there were no hills. She was not an average person, she feared; the rate for traditionally built people was probably three miles an hour. So that would mean a walk of about three hours, just to reach the outskirts of town. From there it would be at least half an hour—probably rather more—to Zebra Drive.

Of course there was the chance that she would be able to flag down a minibus, if there was one on the prowl. The driver would probably take advantage of her need and charge much more than was normal, but she would readily pay whatever it cost to get home before midnight. Or she might be able to persuade a passing driver to stop and pick her up as an act of charity. There had been a time when people would do that, and indeed Mma Ramotswe would still let people ride in the back of the van when she went up to Mochudi. But she doubted whether people would stop at night out here to pick up a woman who for no apparent reason was standing by the roadside.