Their mother clapped her hands. ‘Now, all of you, go and wash your hands in the kitchen. Then sit down at the table. Quickly, quickly, or the food will get cold.’
For a moment Tom wondered if her orders included him, but the father took his arm and said, ‘Come on through to the dining room, Mr. Ellis. Sit down at the table. You can be the first,’ and guided him with a firm hand across the passage into another room, where a large table that filled virtually all the available space was set for dinner.
Joy quickly moved the places along and set another one as Tom and her father sat down. She sat down beside Tom.
‘It is very nice that Joy has made a new friend,’ began her father. ‘She is a very special girl, you know. She lives up to her name. She is truly our pride and joy.’
Tom smiled at him, wondering if this was going to develop into some sort of lecture or warning.
‘Oh, Father, really,’ said Joy, and Tom saw that she was blushing, but her smile betrayed her pleasure at his words.
‘No, I mean it. You are a treasure. You are a gifted teacher and were a very talented student.’
‘I’m sure,’ said Tom. ‘You must be very proud of her. And I’m very proud to count her as my friend.’
By now the children had sat themselves down with much noisy chatter and the scraping of chairs. Joy and her mother brought out two enormous bowls from the kitchen, one containing steaming chicken curry, the other rice. They began doling out portions onto plates and passing them around. Tom found himself feeling inexplicably nervous. It reminded him of the times he had been invited to the homes of school friends and had to sit through formal mealtimes and be subjected to scrutiny and questioning from their parents. He knew that he was under scrutiny here too.
‘Let us say grace,’ said Joy’s father. This was a surprise to Tom, but he realised straight away that it shouldn’t have been. The family instantly bowed their heads, and Tom followed suit. Tom had not said any sort of prayer since his schooldays. He opened one eye and looked around the table. The whole family was deep in prayer. It struck him then how important their faith was to them, and how central it was to Joy’s world, although she rarely spoke to him about it.
‘Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.’
They all opened their eyes instantly and began to eat and talk at once. The room was filled with the chatter of voices and the squeaks of forks on plates. The food was delicious, highly spiced and fresh-tasting, the tastes bursting on the tongue. Tom wished his cook at home would make curry sometimes instead of persisting in his pale imitations of English dishes.
‘You’re a soldier, aren’t you?’ said one of the boys to Tom, leaning forward eagerly.
‘Oh, I’m not a proper soldier, I’m afraid. I’m just a Volunteer.’
‘But if there’s a war, you’ll be in it won’t you?’ asked the boy. ‘You’ll be able to fight and fire a gun?’
‘Oh, but I’m not sure that will happen…’
‘Stop it with those silly questions, Paul!’ ordered the father. ‘There is not going to be a war. The British are very well equipped. They will defend their colonies to the hilt. It says so in The Straits Times. The Japanese are just … What do you say … rattling sabres. The Empire is very well defended. We have a very good army indeed.’
‘So why are they calling up the Volunteers then?’ the child persisted.
‘I said stop. Didn’t you hear me?’
Tom felt awkward that he had caused this disagreement within the family. He realised that Joy must have felt his discomfort because, to his surprise, he felt her hand on top of his on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. He turned towards her, and her smiling eyes met his. Then, she removed her hand and resumed eating as if nothing had passed between them. But Tom noticed that her father and mother had observed this brief exchange. He saw the mother’s secret look of knowing pleasure before she looked down at her plate again. He also saw the father draw himself up in his chair, frowning and clearing his throat loudly in disapproval.
There was silence around the table for a few moments, until Joy’s mother broke it by speaking to Tom. ‘Joy tells me you were once a solicitor in London, Mr. Ellis. Is that correct?’
‘Oh, please call me “Tom”. Yes, I was. I worked in the city for a while.’
The father turned to him.
‘And why did you give it up, may I ask?’
‘Well, it didn’t suit me, I’m afraid,’ said Tom. ‘I…I needed a change.’
The elderly man peered at him through his pebble glasses, a puzzled expression on his face. Tom caught sight of Joy across the table, looking down at her plate, her fork poised.
‘But I don’t understand, Mr. Ellis. It was a good job, was it not?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, it was a very good job. I was lucky to have it. But …’ He was struggling for words. He realised that a blush was creeping up his cheeks. How could he explain his decision to this man, who had probably spent a lifetime trudging daily to a dismal office on the docks, who had spent his days at a soul-sapping clerical job? It must appear highly frivolous to him to throw up the chance of a legal career in the city.
‘I wanted to travel. And I had the chance to come out here,’ Tom finally managed to say. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it would do. Again he caught
