RETURN TO THE RIVER KWAI (III)

I had no idea where Burma was , nor could I understand why working on the railway would make someone sick.There were mysteries in the adult world to which I was not privy.A little while later, the painters came to decorate our house.They were a jolly bunch and let an enthusiastic eight-year-old boy help them.I had a whale of a time ,mixing paint and washing brushes and I became particularly friendly with Bob,a dark-haired , rather intense man .I asked him one day,
“Oh Bob ,I expect you’re married”.
“Yes, indeed,” he replied, “ I have a very nice wife.”
“And I expect you’ve got a little boy just like me!”
“ Oh,no,” he said, “ The Japanese saw to that.”