You know, George, shes your sister, but Im your wife. And I cant bear to watch you take from our children to give to Eleanor any longer.
George knew his wife was right, yet he couldnt bring himself to act differently. When his sister needed help, he was always the first to step forwardjust as he had been since childhood.
“Georgie, pass me the nail,” called seven-year-old Eleanor, perched on a stool by the old shed.
“What do you need a nail for?” asked nine-year-old George, wary.
“To build a cat house.”
“Again? Last time I helped you with that, the cat wouldnt even go near it, and you sulked for a week.”
“This time itll workIm going to line it with fabric.”
And so they grewtwo shoots from the same root. Their mother worked at the factory, and their father had passed too soon. George, though young, took on the role of the man in the house. He learned to fix bicycles, mend leaky taps, and warm their supper.
“Georgie, do you think Ill grow up to be an actress?”
“You already are one. Yesterday, when you fell and wailed, then smiled while eating jamthat was a proper performance.”
Time passed. George trained as an electrician, settled in the city, and married Margaret.
Eleanor went to teachers college, lived in student digs, and visited her brother whenever she could.
Margaret would sigh.
“George, your sisters grown now. Shouldnt she learn to manage on her own?”
“She isnt a suitcase to hand off and forget,” George would murmur. “Shes my sister.”
After finishing college, Eleanor was posted to a village school. Her room in the chilly dorm had an ancient stove and a meagre wage. George visited every holiday.
“I told youbuy a heater.”
“I cant spare the moneyI need books for the children.”
“Ive brought you one. And a coat.”
“Wont Margaret mind?”
“Oh, she will. But you wont freeze.”
One day, Eleanor called in tears.
“Brother Im expecting a child.”
“Well, congratulations but why the tears?”
“Hes left. Said he wasnt ready for this.”
“His loss. Hold on. Im coming.”
“You neednt Ill manage”
“Eleanor, this isnt up for debate.”
He arrived the next day with groceries, money, a blanket, and baby clothes.
“Margarets furious,” he admitted over the kitchen table.
“I dont want to cause trouble”
“Listen. My wife is a good woman, but she didnt raise me.”
“You understand this isnt just replacing a lost phone. Its serious.”
“Precisely why Im here.”
George stood by her on the most important day, cradling his nephew like treasure.
“What will you name him?”
“Matthew.”
“A fine name. Hell grow up to protect you, just as I have.”
After the birth, he helped oftenmoney for formula, repairs to her room, a pram. All the while, Margaret withdrew in silence.
One evening, she finally spoke.
“George, I dont mind you helping Eleanor. But when its always from our householdits no longer support. Its a loss to us.”
“I know. But I cant do otherwise.”
“And I cant live feeling your sister always comes first, and we come second.”
George said nothing. He loved them both equally.
In time, Eleanor found her footing. She started a childrens club, earned respect in the village. Her son grew quiet and obedient.
George visited less, but always brought gifts.
“Matthew, look what Uncles brought youa building set!”
“Mum says you and Aunt Margaret are older now, that you have your own struggles, so we shouldnt take so much.”
“Well, Im not as old as your mother thinks.”
At fifty, George fell gravely ill. Eleanor came to the city with jars of jam, homemade pies, and her son.
“Margaret, may I tidy up? George always leaves his desk in a state,” she smiled.
“Go ahead. And put the pies out. He wont eat a thing without you here.”
“Thats not true!” George grumbled from the sofa.
“Of course it isnt. Youve only lost half a stone this week”
They laughed like children. And for the first time, Margaret looked at Eleanor not with jealousy, but understanding.
“You know,” she said quietly as Eleanor stepped into the kitchen, “you were right. Shes good. I just thought you were choosing between us.”
“I never chose. Theres room enough in my heart for you both.”
A year later, George and Margaret welcomed a granddaughter.
Matthew went to university. Eleanor remained a village teacher, calling her brother every Sunday.
“How are you?”
“Not bad. Margarets taken up embroidery, and I watch the telly. You?”
“Matthews home for the summer. Weve been mushroom picking.”
“Glad he turned out decent and honest.”
“Because he had you as an example.”
In their twilight years, sitting together on a bench outside, Eleanor said,
“You know, George, I think God gave me you as a brother for a reason. Without you, Id never have made it.”
“And Id have been a different man without you. Youve always been theresince we were small, and even now. Thats not helping. Thats just what family does.”
