She waited for Fanwell, who gave the dog another pat on the head before turning round to get back into the van. The dog followed him, and as he opened the door of the van it tried to leap up onto the seat inside.

“You must stay,” said Fanwell. “You cannot come with me.”

The dog looked up at him, its eyes wide, its mouth open to allow its large pink tongue to extrude.

Mma Ramotswe slammed the door behind her. Pushing the dog away with his foot, Fanwell closed the passenger door behind him. “We can go now, Mma,” he muttered.

Mma Ramotswe drove the van slowly back onto the road. As she did so, she heard barking. Glancing in her rear-view mirror she saw the dog beginning to chase after her.

“He doesn’t want to leave us,” said Fanwell. “He’s not going to go to his place, Mma.”

Mma Ramotswe pressed down on the accelerator. “He’ll give up, Fanwell. Once we get onto the main road, he’ll be unable to keep up with us.”

Fanwell turned in his seat. “He is just behind us, Mma. He is running very fast.”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “We can’t stop, Fanwell. We can’t let him catch up.”

Fanwell’s voice became strained. “He is very sad, that dog,” he said. “He has nobody to love him. You can tell when somebody has nobody to love him.”

“They’ll love him in his own place,” said Mma Ramotswe. “He will have people there.”