She stored the information away. Mma Sheba had not told her the age of the real Liso. If this Liso, whether or not he was the real one, had passed his test in Swaziland last year, he must be at least eighteen, assuming that the minimum driving age there was the same as it was in Botswana.

They left the barn, and he led her to a shed a short distance away. ‘This is where they keep the dip for the cattle, Mma,’ he said. ‘It has a very strong smell – you will not like it.’

She smiled. ‘I know that smell well,’ she said. ‘I used to count the cattle going through the dip when I was a little girl. It is a bit like tar, but different. I will never forget that smell, Liso.’

He grinned back at her. ‘I spilled some on my shirt once when I was helping my uncle. I had to throw the shirt away.’

He spoke so naturally that she knew the story was true. But then one could spill cattle dip on one’s shirt in any circumstances, and he might well have a memory of such an incident that had happened elsewhere.

‘I can show you the septic tank, if you like,’ Liso now offered. ‘It is over there, Mma.’

She declined the offer. ‘I mustn’t hold you up, Liso,’ she said. ‘I have things to do in Gaborone and your aunt says you have some work to do too. I have seen that everything is in good order. I will tell the lawyers.’

He smiled at her. ‘That is kind, Mma. And could you ask them to hurry up? I do not want to waste too much time.’

‘I’ll do that, Liso. But you have plenty of time, don’t you think? You are still seventeen, and that is not old.’

‘Eighteen,’ he corrected.

‘Of course – eighteen. But when you’re eighteen you still have most of your life ahead of you. You will be staying on this farm for a long, long time.’

She searched his expression as she pronounced the sentence of years on the farm. She was not sure what sign she was looking for, but it had something to do with an awareness on his part that he knew that he was not going to be there for the rest of his life, a sign that he had other plans. But he showed no emotion, and appeared to accept what she said with equanimity.

As she walked back towards her van, she saw a movement at the window. She was not surprised; Mma Molapo would have been watching them. There was an innocent explanation for that. If you lived out in the bush as they did, and somebody came to see you, you would be watching. There was not much else to do out here, and a stranger was intriguing, whatever her business.