“Look here, George, she might be your sister, but I’m your wife. And I can’t stand by any longer watching you take from our own children to give everything to Alice.”
George knew his wife had a point, but he couldnt help himself. Whenever his sister needed help, he was the first to step forward. It had always been this way, ever since they were children.
“Georgie, pass me that nail,” seven-year-old Alice called, balancing on a wobbly stool near the old shed.
“What dyou need a nail for?” nine-year-old George asked warily.
“Im making a cat house.”
“Again? Last time I helped, the cat wouldnt even go near it, and you sulked for a week.”
“This time itll workIm lining it with fabric.”
And so they grewtwo shoots from the same root. Their mother worked long shifts at the factory, their father gone too soon. George, though barely more than a boy, took on the role of the man in the house. He learned to fix bikes, repair leaky taps, and warm up leftovers for supper.
“Georgie, dyou think Ill grow up to be an actress?”
“You already are one. Yesterday when you fell and started wailing, then scarfed down jam with a grinthat was proper theatre.”
Years passed. George trained as an electrician, settled in the city, married Margaret. Alice went to teachers college, lived in student halls, and visited whenever she could.
Margaret sighed. “George, your sisters grown now. Shouldnt she manage on her own?”
“Shes not some old suitcase I can just hand off and forget,” George murmured. “Shes my sister.”
After college, Alice was posted to a village school. Her tiny dorm room had a rusty stove and a pittance of a salary. George visited every holiday.
“Told you to buy a heater.”
“Cantneed to buy books for the kids.”
“I brought you one. And a coat.”
“Wont Margaret be cross?”
“She will. But you wont freeze.”
One day, Alice called in tears. “Georgie Im expecting.”
“Congrats so why the tears?”
“He left. Said he wasnt ready for this.”
“His loss. Hang tight. Im coming.”
“You dont have to”
“Alice, this isnt up for debate.”
He arrived the next day with groceries, money, a quilt, and baby clothes.
“Margarets furious,” he admitted at the kitchen table.
“I dont want to cause trouble”
“Listen. My wifes a good womanbut she didnt raise me.”
“You realise this isnt just replacing a lost phone. This is serious.”
“Exactly why Im here.”
George stood by her on the most important day, cradling his nephew like treasure.
“Whatll you name him?”
“Matthew.”
“Good name. Hell grow up protecting youjust like I did.”
After the birth, he helped oftenmoney for formula, fixing up the room, a pram. Meanwhile, Margaret grew quiet, distant.
One evening, she finally spoke. “George, I dont mind you helping Alice. But when it keeps coming from our familys budgetthats not support. Thats sacrifice.”
“I get it. But I cant turn away.”
“And I cant live feeling like your sister always comes first, and we come second.”
George stayed silent. He loved them both.
In time, Alice found her footing. She started a childrens club, became beloved in the village. Her son grew up quiet, well-mannered.
George visited less, but always brought something.
“Matt, look what Uncle broughta toy train set!”
“Mum says you and Aunt Margaret are older now, that youve got your own struggles, so we shouldnt take too much.”
“Well, Im not as old as your mum thinks.”
At fifty, George fell seriously ill. Alice came to the city with jars of preserves, homemade pies, and her son.
“Margaret, mind if I tidy up? George always leaves a mess,” Alice smiled.
“Go ahead. And put those pies out. He wont eat a thing without you here.”
“Thats rubbish!” George grumbled from the sofa.
“Course it is. Thats why youve dropped a stone in a week”
They laughed like children. And for the first time, Margaret looked at Alice not with jealousy, but understanding.
“Yknow,” she said quietly when Alice was in the kitchen, “you were right. Shes good. I just thought you had to choose.”
“I never chose. Theres room in my heart for you both.”
A year later, George and Margaret welcomed a granddaughter.
Matthew went to uni. Alice stayed a village teacher, ringing her brother every Sunday.
“Howre you holding up?”
“Alright. Margarets taken up knitting, I watch telly. You?”
“Matts home for break. Weve been mushroom picking.”
“Glad he turned out decent.”
“Because he had you to look up to.”
In their twilight years, sitting together on the porch, Alice said softly, “Yknow, Georgie, I think God gave me you as a brother for a reason. Id never have made it without you.”
“And Id be a different man without you. You were always therefrom childhood till now. Its not helping. Its just family.”
