He put his arm around her and drew her to him. ‘It won’t suffer for long, Joy. Look. It’s hardly breathing now.’
Joy covered her eyes, but Tom watched as the animal closed its eyes and its shallow breathing finally stopped with one last great shudder.
‘It won’t suffer any more, Joy,’ he said gently. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to the car.’
He held her close and helped her back through the trees, across the storm ditch and into the passenger seat. He got in beside her and turned to her. She was still crying quietly, sobs shaking her body.
‘My poor love,’ he said, taking her in his arms again, and kissing the salty tears from her face. ‘I’m sorry, Joy. I’m so sorry,’ he murmured, with a lump in his own throat, covering her face with tiny kisses. She responded for a moment and kissed him back before turning away.
‘Let’s get to the bungalow,’ he said, starting the engine.
‘No,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to go home now.’
He turned the car round in the road and headed back towards Georgetown, his spirits dashed. The day that had been so full of happiness and promise was now ruined. They drove in silence until they reached the outskirts of the town.
‘Will you promise me something, Tom?’ she asked suddenly, turning to him.
‘Of course. Whatever you want.’
‘Will you go back tomorrow morning and bury that poor animal? I just can’t bear the thought of it lying all alone out there. It should be buried properly.’
‘Of course. I’ll do that if it will make you feel better.’
‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said. ‘You’re a really good man.’
And in the darkness he felt her move towards him and slide her arm around his shoulder, felt the warmth of her fingers as they caressed the back of his neck.
Joy was still silent as they entered the outskirts of Georgetown, turned off the Burmah Road and drove through Pulau Tikus, the Eurasian district. As Tom drew up in front of her house and turned to kiss her goodbye, he was surprised when she said, ‘Why don’t you come in? Meet my family. It would be nice. They are always asking about you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m quite sure,’ she said laughing, and he realised she was making an effort to put the unsettling incident with the stray dog behind her.
He felt apprehensive as he followed her up the wooden steps to the front door. As they crossed the veranda he noticed pots of flowering geraniums arranged around the front door, their red petals bright against the white-painted wood of the little house.
Inside, the tiny hallway was neat and tidy and crowded with polished furniture. Surfaces were covered in crocheted white cloths, on which china and glass ornaments were arranged. It didn’t feel like a house where several children lived.
‘Is that you back, Joy?’ came a woman’s voice from the back of the house. Aromas of frying food and exotic spices wafted towards them from the same direction.
‘Yes, Mother, and I’ve brought along a friend,’ said Joy, smiling at Tom conspiratorially. Joy’s mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron she wore over her sari, her face flushed and sweating from cooking. She was a stout woman with a careworn face, her wispy grey hair escaping from an untidy bun.
‘Oh, is this Mr. Ellis at last?’ Her face lit up in a smile. ‘How wonderful to meet you! Father! Father! Come and see who’s here!’
While she pumped Tom’s hand up and down in an enthusiastic greeting, a short grey-haired man wearing thick glasses emerged from another room, carrying a newspaper. Like the mother, he also had a slight air of defeat about him. He was wearing a pair of threadbare suit trousers and a shirt and tie despite it being a Saturday. Tom suddenly felt self-conscious about his appearance, his shirt crumpled from the beach, his hair tousled from swimming and probably full of sand.
The father shook hands with Tom, too, but his handshake was formal.
‘Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ellis. We have heard a lot about you. Please, do come inside.’
He beckoned Tom into the living room, which was also crammed with heavy furniture and crowded with ornaments. Tom noticed a large gilt-framed painting of Christ on the cross on the wall. A colourful statue of the Virgin Mary took the pride of place on the sideboard.
‘So, where have you two youngsters been today?’
‘We went to the beach, Father. Tom taught me how to swim!’ said Joy, her eyes shining.
‘Well I never …’ said her father, shaking his head. He tailed off, clearly lost for words.
‘Would you like to stay to supper, Mr. Ellis?’ said the mother from the doorway. ‘I am just about to dish up.’
Tom hesitated, conscious that every penny must count in this household. Would they have enough for him? But he quickly realised it would be rude to refuse.
‘I’d love to,’ he said, smiling. ‘It smells delicious.’
‘Children! Supper,’ shouted Joy’s mother, and at once there was a banging of doors and a clattering of feet as all of Joy’s brothers and sisters emerged from other rooms or from the garden. They were all talking and shouting at once, excited at the sight of a stranger. It amazed Tom how they all fitted into this tiny space, and he thought back to his own childhood spent in that large silent house, with no brothers or sisters for company.
‘Be quiet, everyone!’ said Joy, laughing and holding up her hands. ‘I would like you all to meet my friend, Mr. Tom Ellis. Tom, this is Grace, this is Hope, this is Paul, this is Luke and this is Elijah.’ The last child was tiny. He couldn’t have been more than two or three. Tom bent to shake his hand and everyone laughed in delight.
All the other children shook hands excitedly with Tom, jostling for position, grinning at him and saying ‘Ho-do-you-do?’. Looking back now, years later,
