“Not with this one Granddad,” Tomas read the faded letters under the moss, “this says… Ethel Baxter, she died in 1936. That was before the war wasn’t it?” Matylda gave Tomas one of her ‘humor him’ looks, but both were glad for the distraction. Watching the coffin being lowered into the ground, had almost finished Tomas, and he was pleased to be leaving. Matylda managed a smile.

“Could you find Chalky’s grave for your Granddad?” She looked exhausted but relieved the ordeal was over.

Tomas took his Granddad’s hand. “This way Ace, he’s over there.” Matylda placed a hand on Tomas’s shoulder and mouthed her words.

“Thank you.” She turned to walk before calling back, “Don’t be long, I need you back at the house to help with the guests, and don’t let Granddad stand around too long in the cold.” The old man leant heavily on Tomas’s arm, as they walked. He cleared his throat.

“If your father had half the balls Chalky had, he wouldn’t be in that hole over there.” Tomas stiffened but luckily Granddad went back to the war. “Do you know what’s funny?” he didn’t wait for an answer, “if the Nazis had waited a few more years, they could have walked in here without a fight.” He chuckled and began to cough. When he’d recovered, he continued with his favorite theme. “You British have lost that bulldog spirit that built your empire. Chalky was the bravest man I knew, but you just don’t see the likes of him any more.” He straightened up and pushed out his chest. “Did I ever tell you about the time we walked into The Red Lion and—“

“Here you go, this is it.” Tomas was in no mood to hear about Chalky’s adventures yet again. Granddad removed his hat and bowed his head; a sideways glance prompted Tomas to do the same.