Jack groaned in frustration, turning to Angus. “I’m dead – again. This level’s impossible.”
“You’re rubbish.” Angus put both hands behind his head and leaned back in the moth-eaten armchair, grinning smugly.
Jack rolled his eyes and tossed the controller over to his friend. “So why don’t you try?”
“Nah… this level’s too much for me. Get it all the time from Dad…”
“Get what?”
Angus yawned. “Can’t be bothered to tell you…”
“Tell me what?”
“Great Grandfather Ludwig…” Angus rolled his ‘Rs’ mockingly.
“Who’s he?”
“I’ll tell you – but don’t say I didn’t warn you. My Great Grandfather Ludwig, as we are all sick of hearing, was a German soldier – he fought in the war,” Angus pointed at the screen, where Jack had paused Point-of-Departure, “that war – the First World War.”
Jack was impressed. “You’re joking?”
“No. And I know that ’cos he’s still on the mantelpiece back home… In a jar.”
“A what?”
“A jar. Not all of him, you plonker, just a bit of him. A piece of his left tibia… whatever that is.”
“A bone in his leg.”
“Whatever. We’ve got an old photo of him as well. Part of his ear is missing.”
“Why have you got that on your mantelpiece? You lot are mad.”
“Dad likes talking about it – Great Grandfather Ludwig and Great Gran Dot.” Angus looked across at Jack with a pained expression. “I’m going to have to tell you the whole story, aren’t I?”
Jack nodded.
“Great Grandfather Ludwig was a German infantryman.” Angus tipped his head at the screen again, “Like that guy who just owned you in the last level… Anyway, he fought in the war. He got medals and all sorts. Then one day there was a big British offensive. Ludwig’s trench was about to be overrun. Apparently, he refused to budge, even though all his mates were about to retreat. In fact, he did the opposite – he went over the top to search for German survivors in no-man’s-land. Apparently, he saved at least one young lad who would have died from his injuries otherwise.”
“Amazing.”
“Before he got back to his lines, the Brits attacked and he was captured, although he was wounded in the process – in his leg…”
“…the bone in the jar on your mantelpiece?”
“Right. They patched him up and he recovered. In fact, it seems he developed a bit of a soft spot for the British. There is some story about how he’d met some guys, some lost British soldiers or something, out there in no-man’s-land when he was searching around. Apparently, they were going to kill him but decided to let him go… I think so he could rescue his injured friend or something… I’m not sure… it’s a bit hazy.”
“What happened to him?”
“Met Dorothy. Great Gran Dot. She was a nurse in the field hospital. She was Scottish. They hitched up. The war ended. They got married and he never went home. Moved to Scotland with Dot and took over the old sheep farm when Dot’s old man died.”
“What – your house up at Rachan?”
“Very same.”
“So you’re German, Angus?”
“S’pose – eighth German or something… My surname, Jud, is a German name. I think. It’s pronounced ‘Yood’ – but no one knows that so everyone just says ‘Jud’. It’s easier.”
Jack smiled. “You never said anything before. It’s a good story.”
“Maybe – Dad just goes on about it a bit. I think Dad was close to his grandfather when he was a lad. I’ll bring the photo in tomorrow, if I remember, but maybe leave the jar at home…” Angus suddenly remembered something and looked at his watch. “I’m late!” He jumped to his feet and grabbed his coat, which had been discarded on the dusty cellar floor. “Sorry mate, I’ll have to leave you to it. I’ve got Pendelshape first thing tomorrow – and I haven’t started my essay. You know what the Pendelino’s like… he’ll go ape. I’m in his bad books anyway. He confiscated my iPod yesterday.”
Angus was already disappearing back up the cellar stairs to the kitchen.
Jack shrugged. “See you then…” He picked up the controller, which was still moist from his sweaty palms, and turned back to the computer game. Underneath, the console’s piercing light winked back at him, challenging him to try just one more time. Angus’s story had suddenly somehow made it much more real. He felt the adrenaline in his veins and, while holding the controller with one hand, instinctively fumbled in his trouser pocket with the other for his puffer. He felt a rush of comfort as his fingers located and then encircled its familiar plastic outline.
He muttered to himself, “Captain Jack Christie’s ready – I hope you are.”