Billy Thomas was excited. His parents were going to a posh dinner in Swansea, this meant he was going to sleep in his grandparents’ house. A rare treat, they went there every Sunday for tea but rarely did he stay.
Carrying his bag of clothes he set off, his mam’s warning ringing in his ears to behave. Nan was waiting at the door and ushered him in, hugging him. She smelt of lavender and she was tiny – Billy was almost as tall as her – and she reminded him of a small bird.
Grandad was ensconced in his armchair; he had a ruddy complexion thickset with hands like shovels. ”Alright our Billy.”
Nodding, Billy scarpered into the kitchen, following the aroma of freshly baked bread. After he had his fill of toast and dripping he returned to the parlour and his grandfather. He climbed onto the arm of the chair and settled down to hear one of his tales of the war.
”You’ve heard of Lawrence of Arabia, well I was called Devilish Dai of the desert. I could travel through the desert invisibly, me and my camel, Mabel, living on scorpions – they were fine as long as you bit the tail off – and beetles, juicy they were. When we were short of water, Mabel let me put a tube in her hump to drink the water she had stored there. There were ponds, few and far between, and fruit on the trees; that was a treat but you had to watch out for the enemy. Sneaky they were, hiding up trees, jumping down on you with great big knives. They could make you chopped liver. Not that I had any trouble, I could spot them a mile away, had my bayonet out ready to….”
Billy sat there mesmerised, although he couldn’t imagine eating bugs. His grandma sat knitting in her rocking chair, amusement in her eyes, having heard these stories many times. Each time Dai was the hero of the tale. When he fixed him with stare, Billy looked away.
”Well let’s just say they didn’t win. Now the one time I was caught they had me in front of a firing squad. Rommell himself came to see me: I was that feared in the enemy camps. Well he walked up to me, all puffed up. Well I tell you I wasn’t going to die, so I stamped on his foot and as he bent over I kicked him in the…..
”Daffydd, don’t you dare, ” Grandma shouted.
”I was going to say stomach. Grabbing round his neck, I used him as a shield, dragging him backward to the small plane he had arrived in to make my escape. I flew that plane back over enemy lines. The war ended not long after as they didn’t know how to fight without Rommell.”
”Did you get a medal grandpa?”
”Can’t tell you Billy. If I did I’d have to kill you.”
Later as grandma tucked Billy into bed, he looked at her asking what it was like to be married to a hero who ended the war single handed.
”Truthfully I don’t know.”
