Part Three

'Mrs Bebb, my new guardian, a small petite lady in her sixties, her grey hair tied in a bun at the back of her head was wearing a darkish dress covered by an acapulco wrap around a pinafore. She was profoundly deaf but if you spoke close to her right ear she could discern what was being said to her. Her eyes twinkled beyond her wire rimmed 'granny' spectacles as she gave me a warm reassuring smile which had the effect of soothing any anxieties which I may have had.

Soon Mr Bebb entered the house, he on the other hand was fairly tall but slightly bent - perhaps after years of leaning over the anvil, like his wife he had grey hair but strictly to the fashion of the time - short back and sides. He too had a warm fatherly smile which confirmed my welcome in their house.

Miss McQuade was also invited to sit down to tea after all she only lived next door. It turned out that tea was a snack between dinner and supper, some snack - home made bread and farm butter with jam or cheese, cakes and of course tea to drink...

While having this first tea with Aunty Nell and Uncle Fred as I was invited to call my hosts, I was bombarded with questions about my own family, the blitz and what have you. They listened intently which helped boost my confidence. It was during tea that I noticed Uncle Fred's hands, they were like shovels with powerful fingers perhaps reflecting the harshness of his trade.

After tea Uncle Fred showed me around the animals of the small holding that they ran in conjunction with the smithy. Because it was mid-winter all the cattle and 'Lofty' the shire horse were indoors and only his small flock of Kerry Hill sheep had to endure the rigours of outdoor life through a Mid-Wales winter. The poultry on the other hand, being free range had the option of spending the day in or out.

My little tour of the dwelling over I returned to the warmth of the house, by now it was quite dark but of course there was no luxury of electric light. However there was adequate illumination provided by the Aladdin paraffin lamp which not only lit the room quite well it also provided a worthwhile amount of heat.

It was now early evening and I had yet to meet their son Eric, apparently he had knocked off work early to go hunting and would be back soon to help his Dad complete the evening chores with the animals.

I hadn't long to wait, the door burst open and I was dumb founded, in the doorway stood a giant of a man, well to me anyway for he was almost 6 foot tall, in need of a shave, with dark unruly hair... From his broad shoulders like those of a shire horse, hung two muscular arms each ending with those proverbial shovel like hands...

Aunty Nell introduced us to each other:
"Eric this is Eric. Oops we can't have two Eric's in the same house."
They then asked me if I had a second name. I told them it was William, that I was William Eric Jackson. "Right," said Eric, "From now on you will be Bill or Billy as long as you stay with us."
Even now after 60 years I am known as Bill to the Bebb family and to their friends and relatives in mid Wales'.