But the parachutes did open, and Mma Ramotswe let out her breath and felt weak at the knees. Mrs Moffat smiled at her and said, “I was worried then. It seemed such a time,” and Mma Ramotswe was too overcome to say anything in response, but vowed to herself that she would make it up to this boy in the future; she would be kind to him and not be so impatient at the irritating things he said and did.

As they drifted down, floating beneath the great white canopies, the two figures separated. One of them waved to the other, and seemed to be gesturing, but the other did nothing and continued to float away. The gesturing one was now getting fairly close to the ground, and within seconds he had landed in the field, scarcely a few hundred yards from the spectators. There was a cheer, and the children ran forward, in spite of the calls from the housemothers to stay where they were until the second parachutist had landed safely.

They need not have worried. The other parachutist, now revealed to be Charlie, had so drifted off course that he did not land in the field at all, but disappeared behind the tree tops of the scrub bush on the other side. The spectators watched silently as this happened, and then people turned to one another in uncertainty.

“He will be dead,” cried out one of the smaller children. “We must fetch a box.”

IT WAS Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, Mma Potokwane’s husband, and the instructor (not freed of his equipment) who discovered Charlie. He was hanging a few feet above the ground, his parachute covering the upper branches of a large acacia tree, snagged and snared by the thorny limbs of the tree. He shouted out to them as they approached, and the instructor soon had him out of the harness and down on the ground.

“That was a soft landing,” said the instructor. “Well done. You were just a bit off target, that’s all. I think you were pulling on the wrong side of the canopy. That’s why you sailed off here.”

The apprentice nodded. He had a curious expression on his face, half way between sheer relief and pain.

“I think that I am injured,” he said.

“You can’t be,” said the instructor, dusting down the green parachute suit. “The tree completely broke your fall.”

The apprentice shook his head. “There is something hurting me. It is very sore. It is there. Please see what it is.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni looked at the seat of Charlie’s trousers. There was a large rip in the fabric and a very nasty-looking acacia thorn, several inches long, embedded in the flesh. Deftly he took this between his fingers and extracted it with one swift movement. The apprentice gave a yelp.

“That was all,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “A big thorn …”