I had lunch with Jack Wilson in the court’s cafeteria. The sandwiches were fresh but, all in all, the establishment was ramshackle and the tables, which could have done with mats or table clothes, looked egalitarian rather than inviting. In comparison with it, the restaurant of Singapore’s High Court was elegant.

Throughout the break I watched Jack Wilson. From a starry eyed student, he had developed in to a fine courtroom advocate. Still, it was only natural that he wanted his old teacher’s post mortem on his performance. It gave me pleasure to assure him that that in my eyes he had carried the day. A lot, though, would depend on his own witnesses: Bruce Smith and the clerk who had read out the reference.

As the Judge returned to his courtroom after the break, Jack’s opponent announced that he was not calling any other witnesses. He then requested that expert witnesses be barred from attending the examination of the defendants’ evidence. Jack Wilson agreed and I was told by the Judge that I should not be present during the afternoon session.

I was about to leave the courthouse when my eye rested on Yuri, Rena and the two policemen. They were enjoying a late lunch of sandwiches and pickles. Rena had just fetched mugs of hot coffee from the canteen. Yuri grinned at her proudly. I was facing a husband much in love with and highly appreciative of his intelligent wife. Was he aware of her escapades? His admiring expression evidenced that, even if he did, he continued to trust her.

As an expert witness, I had no interest in the hidden facts. Curiosity, though, is known to have killed the cat. Why then should a mere human resist the urge? Rena had spotted my glances.

“Would you like a cup?” she wanted to know.

“Many thanks. But I just had one over lunch, Mrs. Katz.”

“Just call me Rena. And tell me, what do you think of the cafeteria?”

“Rena,” interceded Yuri, “we better be grateful they have takeaways.”

“Rubbish! This way they make more money, Yuri. They are not doing us a favour!” Turning to me she repeated firmly: “Well, what do you think of it?”

“It could do with a face uplift. And the menu is somewhat limited.”

“Somewhat limited …” she mimicked. “Lousy!!! Even no sandwich toaster. You should have seen my business. We even had doner kebab. It was a lovely business! Yuri was the chef. Customers came just to have a really good coffee and toast.”

“What went wrong?” I asked indiscreetly.

“You Mr. Vollar …”

“Rena,” protested Yuri. “Such thing must not say. Mr. Vollar was our partner. He is nice man.”

Rena ignored the rebuke. “He greedy man. Wanted to make 10 per cent! How can?”

“I don’t understand,” I conceded.

“Look, Mr. …”

“… ‘Peter’ will do…”

“Cafeteria in courthouse, you want to come back.”

“Not really,” and then I saw light. As might be expected, Rena confirmed the point.

“Cafeteria in courthouse always has business. People must come court and they not want go out. So, they go cafeteria even if not so nice. We are in street. It has also other places. So, I think better make our business really nice. I mean even somebody drive past, he remember and if come one time he want come again. So, we must have nice tables, the doner kebab and many types of coffee and toasted sandwiches. Business can bring in good money. But must wait …”

“ … be patient …” I muttered.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “If one months lot of rain business not so good. Even regular customers stay at home. So, we not make much. But never mind: we make more next month when weather good. Like you say, Peter, in business must be patient. But Mr. Vollar not patient. He says if his money stay in bank, he make 7 per cent. So, he draws out money: every month. And he does not work in business and never bring new customers. So, in the end we bust. And Yuri too soft when Mr. Vollar ask for money. He say: ‘To partner must listen’. So, now you understand!”

“I do. Like all migrants you were under-capitalised …”

“… yes” she interposed. “We escape with nothing. So, we always short of capital. And overdraft difficult to get from banks.”