Mma Ramotswe was sure about it, and she conveyed that certainty. “It is definitely the right house. I have checked with the Botswana Housing people and it is in the records. It was let to the hospital authorities and they allocated it to your father. It is on Zebra Drive. So I think that—”

Susan stopped her. “Zebra Drive?”

“Yes. That’s where I live. It is not a very big road—not many houses. I’ve lived there since I came to Gaborone and started my agency.” She paused. “Do you remember something, Mma?”

Susan looked uncertain. “It sounds familiar. I think that my parents must have talked about it, but that was years ago. They loved Botswana. They often spoke about it. They said it was a very good country.”

“My late father loved this country too,” said Mma Ramotswe. He did, she thought; he did.

Susan looked over her shoulder, towards the entrance to the café. “They’re taking their time with the tea.”

“They must be busy in there.”

“They might have forgotten about us.”

Mma Ramotswe smiled. “Perhaps I should sneeze again. That will bring the waitress out.”

Susan steered the conversation away from sneezes. “Tell me about Rosie,” she said. “You’ve found her?”

Mma Ramotswe explained that the house had been identified by somebody claiming to be Rosie. There were other reasons, too, for her to think that she was genuine. “Did you have a dog when you were a girl?” she asked.

Susan shook her head. “No, I didn’t have a dog.”

“Are you sure?”

The tea arrived. “I hadn’t forgotten about you,” said the waitress. “Our kettle is broken, you see, and it takes a long time to boil.”

“Like a watched kettle,” said Susan. “They never boil.”

“The important thing is that the tea is here,” said Mma Ramotswe.

“And now you would like something to eat?” asked the waitress.

“No,” said Mma Ramotswe. “We are fine, Mma. We have everything we need.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Mma. I’m quite sure.”

The waitress looked disappointed as she walked away.

“That is a very unusual waitress,” said Mma Ramotswe. She was puzzled by the dog story. Rosie had brought it up quite naturally, as part of her spontaneous outburst in the car, and she felt that this added to its credibility. And then there had been the rectangle of stones in the yard; that could have been anything, of course, but she had treated it as confirmation.

“Why do you ask if I had a dog, Mma?”

She explained, and Susan listened intently. “But I don’t remember any of that,” she said after Mma Ramotswe had finished. “May I ask her about it?”

“Yes. I shall try to arrange for you to meet her soon.”