"Oh goodness," you gasped quietly. You'd led somewhat of a sheltered life but you had some awareness (having grown up in Lambeth) the types of folk who frequented those fighting clubs scattered all around the city. 
"Yes it was.... Certainly a rush." He replied, scratching the back of his neck with his uninjured hand. "I imagine if you asked my sister, she would have much more to say than I do... I think I drove her mad." 
The pair of you fell into silence, the apartment otherwise still for what felt like a few moments - besides the tepid bubbling of the stew on the stove top. 
Your (eye colour) eyes studied the few picture frames littering the mantelpiece above the hearth, and quietly departed the table as you wandered over to have a look. 
"May I?" You asked politely, Jacob nodding earnestly. 
"Of course, love. Have a look." He replied quickly. It was reassuring to see he was being brighter with you already - but you knew you still had a long road ahead. 
Carefully, you picked up one of the frames. In it was an old photograph of Jacob, Evie, another gentleman in traditional Indian attire and a small boy.
"Oh wow, where was this taken?" You noted the rather lush and almost tropical looking backdrop. 
"That was India.... I went out there to visit Evie and her husband, Henry." Jacob said, studying the way you looked intently at the picture. His body tensed, as if he could predict what the next question would be. 
"And who is this little boy stood with you?" You turned to show the picture to Jacob, and he quickly looked away - passing it off as if he was picking up his book again.
"Oh, just one of the kids who was in the village. I think his parents were from Cambridge, so he latched onto us on my visit." He responded with a small cough.
By the time you looked back over, he was buried in his book again. It was like some small, silent code that said 'no more conversation'.
You understood, re fastening your apron as you attended back to the stove to begin dishing out the food. At the end of the day, Jacob was your employer and you were there to serve - not pry. You were lucky he was so relaxed that he even let you ask questions and snoop at his belongings. 
Yet as you plated up the warming meal, you began to naturally question all the details. 
What did Jacob and Evie actually do? It seemed shrouded in mystery. You hoped you could uncover some more information, in due course - or you fear the curiosity might eat you alive. 
-
It was late night now as you sat cross legged on your bed in your cotton night dress, with your diary in your lap and scrawling down various jottings of the previous day.
You wanted to write something, and felt perhaps it was too soon to send a letter home... it had only been a day after all. Therefore, sharing an anecdote in your diary seemed like the next best step.
Dear Diary,
Today was pleasantly surprising. I had expected Jacob to be the most hard headed, grumpy being in existence yet his demeanour has been changed already in the short time I have been here.
I still question my safety after what the seller on the stall said to me, but with Jacob's kind offer to accompany me I hope I can soon shake that feeling.
You set the diary with its wet ink aside, to the small bedside table where a candle flickered passively. In a moment you found yourself looking all around the room, at its details again and wondering exactly who perhaps occupied this space of what it was used for. It just gave the impression it was well lived in before being abandoned. If only the walls could talk.