Mma Makutsi smiled. “A very brave lion, perhaps, Mma. But we should not talk about lions like this. It is very bad luck. Talk about lions brings lions—that is what I always say.”

Mma Ramotswe considered this. It was true; the contemplation of misfortune undoubtedly attracted misfortune. Why this should be so, she was not sure; perhaps it had something to do with noticing things. If you thought of something, then you noticed it; if you did not think of it, then it might be there but you did not notice it. That was possible, but …

She did not finish the thought. They had been travelling painfully slowly but had, for the last couple of hundred yards or so, been on a slightly better section of track, one that did not seem as badly potholed and eroded. Without intending to speed up, she had nonetheless done so, with the result that the tiny white van was now travelling almost at the pace it would have travelled on a much better, official road. That was safe enough, except for the sand, which had slowly been becoming deeper and had begun to encroach on the track itself. Now, with a fair degree of speed behind it, the van hit a section of track in which the sand covered the entire surface. For a four-wheel-drive vehicle, that would not perhaps have presented too much of a challenge; for the van, however, it was too much, and the front wheels, engaging only with sand that shifted and collapsed as the tyres tried to gain a hold, veered sharply and brought the van into a deep bank of fine white earth at the edge of the road.

“We have stopped,” said Mma Makutsi, as they shuddered to a halt.

“So it seems,” muttered Mma Ramotswe.

“Maybe you can reverse out of this,” said Mma Makutsi. “If you reverse, then you can get back on the road. What do you think, Mma?”

“It is the only thing to do,” said Mma Ramotswe, through clenched teeth. Sometimes Mma Makutsi’s advice was … how might one put it? Obvious.

She put in the clutch and engaged reverse gear. The engine responded, but the wheels merely spun in the fine sand, sending up a cloud of dust on either side of the van.

“It’s digging in, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “The wheels are turning, but they have nothing to grip.”

Mma Makutsi sighed. “I think we are stuck in the sand, Mma.”

“I think you’re right, Mma Makutsi.”

Mma Ramotswe turned off the engine. “We should get out and see what has happened,” she said. “I was stuck in sand once before. But I got out.”

“Oh yes, Mma? How did you do that?”

“I put two sacks under each front wheel. That gave the tyres a surface they could hold on to.”

Mma Makutsi clapped her hands together. “That is a very clever idea, Mma. Sacks. We can put sacks under the tyres.”