Had Liso not answered, Mma Molapo would probably have vetoed the suggestion. Certainly she began to say something, but the young man had already accepted. ‘I can do that, Mma. Yes, I can do that.’

It was clear that Mma Molapo was reluctant to allow the two of them to go outside together, but she had insisted that she had work to do and she could hardly go back on that. ‘Very well, Mma,’ she said. ‘He can show you. But he must not take too long. He has some work to do too, I think.’

Mma Ramotswe rose from the Seretse Khama armchair and started to make her way towards the door, followed by Liso. Once outside, she pointed to one of the sheds and asked the young man what it contained. ‘There are some ploughs in there,’ he said. ‘And there is a tractor. It is quite new, I think. It is a good one.’

They walked across to the shed to inspect the ploughs and the tractor. ‘Where were you at school in Swaziland?’ asked Mma Ramotswe.

He did not hesitate. ‘Manzini. I was at school there, Mma.’

She absorbed the information. She did not know very much about Swaziland, but she knew that the two major towns were Mbabane and Manzini.

‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to go to Mbabane?’ she asked.

He said nothing.

‘Don’t you think so?’ she pressed.

‘Why, Mma?’

‘Well, it’s closer than Manzini. Your father ran a hotel, didn’t he? Wasn’t that in the Ezulweni Valley?’

‘It was,’ he said. ‘Manzini was further away but it has a very good school. There is one down by the hospital there – you know the place? It was run by the Fathers. They are Catholic. I came top of the class for two years, Mma.’

Of course she did not know the school, but she nodded.

He opened the door of the barn. The air inside was stale and hot, and it smelled of a mixture of spilled oil – a scent she knew very well from Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors – and straw. She saw the straw – bales of it at the back, stacked almost to the ceiling like giant building bricks. She wanted to sneeze.

‘That’s the tractor,’ he said proudly. ‘I have started it to make sure that the battery doesn’t go flat, but I have not driven it yet. Driving a tractor is different, you know, Mma, from driving a car.’

‘You can drive, Liso?’

‘Yes, I can drive, Mma. I do not have a car yet, but I can drive.’

‘You passed your test in Swaziland?’

He nodded. ‘Last year.’