“Yes, they will,” said Charlie. “And anyway, I want to do it. I have been practising and I know everything there is to know about parachutes now. You count ten—or is it fifty?—and then you pull the cord. So. Like that. Then you keep your feet together and you roll over on the ground once you land. That is all there is to it.”

Mma Ramotswe wanted to say that it was not so simple, but she kept her own counsel.

“You could come with me, Mma Ramotswe,” said Charlie, jokingly. “They could make an extra big parachute for you.”

Mma Ramotswe ignored this. He could be right, of course; perhaps you needed an especially large parachute if you were of traditional build, or perhaps you just came down faster. But then parachutists of traditional build would land more softly and comfortably, being better padded, and those of particularly traditional build might just roll over when they landed, as barrels do when you drop them.

“Well,” she said, after a while, “in your case you must be hoping to land on your bottom, which is much bigger than normal. That will be the best place for you to land. Put your feet up when you get close to the ground and sit down.”

The apprentice looked annoyed, but he did not say anything. Instead, he looked in a small mirror which he had hung on a pin near the door that led from the garage into the office. He could often be found standing before this mirror, preening himself, or doing a small, shuffling dance while he looked at his reflection.

ON THE day in question, they all met at Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors: Mma Ramotswe; the two children, Motholeli and Puso; Mr J.L.B. Matekoni; Mma Makutsi; and the younger apprentice. Charlie himself had been collected from his home several hours earlier and driven to the airfield by the pilot of the light aircraft from which he was to jump.