Rosie raised a hand to stop her. “No, Mma. I meant that your Mma Makutsi should come to me. She must come to me and apologise. As for this Mma Susan—I have changed my mind, Mma. I do not want to see that lady.”

Mma Ramotswe looked up at the sky. Pride, she thought—it was such an important factor in the way in which people led their lives—and such an unnecessary one. Yet one could not wish human failings out of existence—pride, jealousy, anger, resentment: these were all things with which people cluttered their lives. Life would be so much easier if they were not there, but they were, and we had to find a way round them.

Mma Ramotswe struggled to control her irritation. “But why did you contact us, Mma, if you didn’t want to see her?”

Rosie shrugged. “I was curious, Mma. That’s all. I was curious.” She paused. “Now I’m not curious any longer.”

Mma Ramotswe was at a loss as to what to say. She was used to cases collapsing, but it always took her unawares.

Rosie looked as if she had just remembered something. “She was a very difficult child, that one.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She was headstrong. She was disobedient. I always said: that one will be a big problem for somebody when she grows up.”

Mma Ramotswe waited, but nothing more was said. So she said, “Children are often difficult, Mma. I think we all were ourselves, were we not? And then they grow up.”

Rosie shook her head. “Some are like that, Mma. Others are bad.”

“Are there really bad children, Mma?”

Mma Rosie seemed surprised that the question was even asked. “Of course there are. There are many.”

“I see.”

Rosie looked pointedly at her watch. “I am on a shift here,” she said. “I can’t stand outside talking all day.”

“Of course not, Mma. You’ve been very kind.” Mma Ramotswe paused. “I should like to buy some fat cakes, though.”

Rosie nodded. “The other lady will look after you.”

“And perhaps you’ll change your mind,” said Mma Ramotswe.

Rosie shook her head. “I never change my mind, Mma.”

Back inside the bakery, Mma Ramotswe asked for half a dozen fat cakes. These were taken from the tray and placed in a brown paper bag. Smudges of grease appeared through the paper, promising delight ahead. She paid the woman behind the counter and returned to her van. Just one, she thought; she would eat just one fat cake at this stage, and then perhaps she would have another later on, after she had spoken to Mma Makutsi—a reward for the completion of a task that she suspected would not be easy.