“Don’t be afraid, Mma Makutsi,” she said. “There is nothing that can harm us out here. All we shall have to do is to wait until help comes along.” She tried to sound cheerful. “And even if we spend the night out here, we shall be fine. We have water, and we also have food. And we shall be quite safe in the van. Lions cannot open doors, you know. They are not that clever.”

Mma Makutsi did not appreciate this mention of lions. “Oh, please don’t talk about lions, Mma. I am trying not to think about lions, and you keep talking about them.”

Mma Ramotswe laid a calming hand on Mma Makutsi’s arm. “I’m sorry, Mma, I should not have mentioned lions. I do not think that there are any lions round here. I shall not mention lions again.” She paused. “We could make a fire, Mma. I have some newspaper and some matches. We could get a fire going and then we could have tea. That would help, I think.”

“Tea is always a big help,” said Mma Makutsi. “I’ll get some twigs and some wood and then we can make a fire. Maybe the smoke will attract attention and somebody will come.”

“That is a real possibility,” said Mma Ramotswe, pleased that Mma Makutsi seemed to be cheering up.

Mma Makutsi wandered off to retrieve a small branch that had fallen off an acacia tree. Part of the wood had been covered by a mud casing painstakingly put in place by termites; this she brushed off as she carried it back to the van. And it was while she was doing this that they heard the creaking sound of an approaching donkey cart.

“You see!” shouted Mma Makutsi. “I told you that somebody would come.”

Mma Ramotswe was on the point of reminding her that she had said exactly the opposite, but decided not to spoil the moment. “Well, there we are, Mma. We are no longer alone.”

The donkey cart was a rickety affair, cobbled together with ancient painted boards and a chassis that had once belonged to a motor vehicle of some sort—an incongruous union of wood and metal, but serviceable enough. This cart was twenty or thirty years old, and could be expected to last another few decades at least. Out here, where the rainfall was so slight and inconstant, rust was not a problem. More dangerous were the ants, with their appetite for wood, but these could be watched for and dealt with easily enough.