At first, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was unwilling to allow her to go. “It is the middle of nowhere, that place,” he said. “And what if she isn’t there? You will have wasted a lot of time looking for somebody who may be at the opposite end of the country, for all you know.”

“If she isn’t there,” countered Mma Ramotswe, “then at least we will have found out that she isn’t there. It will not be wasted.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “That is no answer, Mma. And what if the van breaks down? That is a very old van, that one, and its engine—”

“Its engine is very good,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You serviced it two weeks ago, Rra, and you said that it was in good condition. Have things changed so quickly?”

He sighed. “It is in good condition for a van of its age. But you cannot take an old vehicle like that into the bush without running some risk. I have known many cars that have died …” He lowered his eyes as he spoke, as if in respect for the souls of departed cars. “I have known many cars that have died out in the bush. And that has meant a very long walk for their drivers.”

“That is a risk we shall take,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It is the same with people. People can become late at any time—just like that. But that does not mean that we should not do anything and not go anywhere just because there is a possibility that we may suddenly become late.”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni sensed that there was no point in his arguing any further; he would never persuade Mma Ramotswe to act otherwise when a friend was in need. And in spite of his anxiety over this trip, he shared her concern for Mma Potokwane, whom he had always admired in spite of her tendency to ask him to fix something whenever she saw him. She had to do that, he understood; it was her job, and the children in her care had benefited a great deal over the years precisely because she took her job so seriously. Rather than waste his energy on trying to stop the expedition, he expended it on making sure that the van was as ready as it could be for the journey. He placed spare cans of fuel in the back and lashed them down for the bumpy ride, and stowed two plastic demijohns of water beside them. Then the oil was checked, the battery tested, and a coil of rope tucked underneath one of the seats. “You never know,” said Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “You never know, do you?”

“I shall be very careful, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe, adding, “I always am, you know.”