Her curiosity was aroused. It is not easy to ignore a notice headed: Be Warned! Be warned about what? There were so many dangers in the world and always plenty of people warning you about them. It was difficult, she felt, to do anything without being warned by somebody about the dangers of whatever it was that you were about to do. Even walking was risky, especially while wearing the sort of high-heel shoes favoured by Mma Makutsi. It would be easy to find that a heel had become trapped – in a grid, for example, or a hole in the ground – and then you might be felled as surely as if somebody had come and chopped you down. And breathing had its dangers too: she remembered all those years ago in Mochudi being told by one of her classmates that she had almost lost a brother when he had breathed in a number of flying ants that had blocked his air passages. An unlikely story, perhaps, but one that lingered in the back of the mind.

She peered closer at the leaflet.

BE WARNED!

Yes, that means you! On no account venture into that place they call the Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon. Minor Adjustment? The major adjustment they make is to your purse – it will be much lighter after only a few minutes in that place. And what about your face? Bad news for your face. Many people are now having expensive medical treatment to undo the damage that this so-called beauty salon has caused. Be warned! Be careful! Don’t let vanity lead you into something you will always regret!

Mma Ramotswe read this text with horror. She looked for a signature, some sign of authorship, but there was none. All that was written at the bottom of the leaflet was: This message is brought to you by one who cares.

She felt her heart racing with outrage. One who cares was clearly one and the same person who had been spreading the rumour about somebody’s face coming off in the salon. This had all the signs of an organised campaign, and a vituperative one at that.

Abandoning the shopping cart in a safe corner, Mma Ramotswe made her way as quickly as she could to the Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon. The door was open and she saw Mma Soleti inside with another woman. When Mma Ramotswe entered the salon, Mma Soleti turned round. Mma Ramotswe could tell immediately that she knew about the leaflet and its contents.

‘Mma,’ said Mma Ramotswe. ‘This is very bad.’

‘Yes,’ said Mma Soleti. ‘It is the end, Mma. The end.’

The woman who was with her, an older woman, reached out and took Mma Soleti’s hand. ‘No, Mma. You must not give up.’