Judging by the size of the woman and her brusque manner, Jack believed her. He relinquished his pack, although still somewhat reluctantly, and declared, ‘We’ll have three mugs of small beer too, while we wait for our food.’

After plonking three tankards on the bar, the ale-wife disappeared to the back of the inn. Jack, Akiko and Yori took a table in the corner.

‘What’s wrong with the water here?’ asked Akiko. ‘That landlady didn’t much like my request for a bath.’

‘Nothing,’ replied Jack, conscious that the English weren’t so regular with their bathing habits as the Japanese – once a year being thought quite enough. ‘But you wouldn’t want to drink it. It’d make you sick. Anyway,’ he said, raising his tankard, ‘here’s to coming back home!’ And they all clinked mugs.

Jack took a long swig from his tankard, savouring the distinctive malty taste familiar from his early childhood, small beer being the staple drink of all English folk, young and old. Akiko sipped hers and Yori ventured a gulp. A second later he gagged and stuffed a fist in his mouth, his face going green.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack.

‘F-f-fine,’ Yori spluttered, setting aside his tankard. ‘I guess … English beer is an acquired taste.’

Jack laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it! It’s safer than drinking the water, I assure you. And don’t worry – there’s barely any alcohol in it.’ He thought of all the strange food and drinks he’d encountered in Japan – small beer was nothing compared to raw fish, fermented beans, pickled salt plums, rice wine and even green tea!

The ale-wife waddled over and dumped three steaming plates on the table, along with a handful of knives and spoons. ‘Beef and kidney pie,’ she grunted.

Akiko examined the cutlery. ‘Do you have hashi?’ she asked.

The ale-wife puffed out her lips. ‘I certainly hope not,’ she retorted. ‘It sounds painful!’ With that, she strode off, her large chest heaving with mirth.

Jack grinned at Akiko. ‘No chopsticks here, I’m afraid. Now it’s your turn to learn my customs,’ he said, picking up his knife, cutting open the pie and scooping out the thick gravy and meat with his spoon.

Yori followed suit, while Akiko delicately sliced a cut in the pastry, sniffed the aroma tentatively, then took a mouthful and slowly chewed.

‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Jack, devouring his own pie.

Akiko managed a weak smile. ‘Very … delicious.’

But Jack could tell by her forced swallow that, just like English beer, English food might be an acquired taste too.