**Diary Entry 15th June**
You see, George, shes your sister, but Im your wife. And I cant stand watching you take from our children to give to Ellen anymore.
George knew his wife was right, but he couldnt help himself. When his sister needed help, he was always the first to step in. It had been that way since they were kids.
“Georgie, hand me that nail,” seven-year-old Ellen called, balancing on a stool by the old shed.
“What dyou need a nail for?” nine-year-old George asked, frowning.
“Gonna make a cat house.”
“Again? Last time we built one, the cat wouldnt even go near it, and you sulked for a week.”
“This onell be differentIm lining it with fabric.”
They grew up like two shoots from the same root. Mum worked at the factory, Dad was gone early. George, young as he was, took on the mans rolefixing bikes, mending taps, heating up supper.
“Georgie, dyou think Ill grow up to be an actress?”
“You already are one. Yesterday you fell over, bawled your eyes out, then ate jam with a grinproper theatre, that was.”
Years passed. George trained as an electrician, settled in London, married Catherine. Ellen went to teachers college, lived in halls, visited when she could. Catherine only sighed.
“George, your sisters a grown woman. Shouldnt she manage on her own now?”
“Shes not a suitcase I can just set down and forget,” George muttered. “Shes my sister.”
After college, Ellen took a teaching post in a villageone cold room in a drafty staff house, an ancient stove, pennies for pay. George visited every holiday.
“Told you to buy a heater.”
“Cant afford itneed books for the kids.”
“Brought you one. And a coat.”
“Wont Catherine mind?”
“Course she will. But you wont freeze.”
Then one day, Ellen called in tears.
“Georgie Im expecting.”
“Congratulations why the tears?”
“He left. Said he wasnt ready.”
“His loss. Hang tight. Ill come.”
“Dont trouble”
“Ellen. Not up for debate.”
He arrived the next day with groceries, money, a blanket, baby clothes.
“Catherines furious,” he said at the kitchen table.
“I dont want to cause trouble”
“Listen. My wifes a good woman. But she didnt raise me.”
“You know this isnt just replacing a lost phone. Its serious.”
“Thats why Im here.”
George held his nephew like treasure the day he was born.
“Whatll you name him?”
“Matthew.”
“Good name. Hell grow up to protect you. Like I did.”
He helped often afterformula money, fixing her flat, a pram. Catherine grew quieter. One evening, she said:
“George, I dont mind you helping Ellen. But when its always from our savingsthats not support. Its sacrifice.”
“I know. But I cant stop.”
“And I cant live feeling your sister comes first. Always.”
George stayed silent. He loved them both.
In time, Ellen found her feetstarted a childrens club, earned respect. Matthew grew quiet, well-mannered. George visited less, but never empty-handed.
“Matt, look what Uncle broughta toy train!”
“Mum says you and Aunt Cathy are getting on, shouldnt spend on us.”
“Not so old as she thinks.”
At fifty, George fell ill. Ellen came with jam, homemade pies, and Matthew.
“Cathy, mind if I tidy? Georges desk is a riot,” Ellen smiled.
“Go on. And leave the pies. He eats nothing without you.”
“Rubbish!” George grumbled from the sofa.
“Course it is. Thats why youve lost a stone this week”
They laughed like kids. And for the first time, Catherine looked at Ellen not with jealousy, but understanding.
“You were right,” she whispered as Ellen left for the kitchen. “Shes good. I just thought you were choosing.”
“Never had to. My hearts big enough for you both.”
A year later, they had a granddaughter.
Matthew went to university. Ellen stayed a village teacher, ringing George every Sunday.
“Howre you?”
“Alright. Cathys knitting, Im watching telly. You?”
“Matts homewere picking mushrooms.”
“Glad he turned out decent.”
“Had you to show him how.”
In their old age, sitting on the garden bench, Ellen said:
“Yknow, George, I think God gave me you as a brother on purpose. Couldnt have managed without you.”
“And Id be someone else without you. Youve always been theresince we were kids. Thats not helping. Thats family.”
**Lesson:** Blood doesnt just tie youit shapes you. And sometimes, loving two people doesnt mean choosing. It means expanding.
