strained ties

Chapter 1
As a child, I had always looked up to my elder brother as one of the greatest beings on God’s earth. He was twelve years older than I and the eldest of all the Walker children; all five of us. He was not the son of my father, however, he was my mother’s only child from her first marriage to a god-forsaken soul by the name of James Butcher. Fortunately, although it seems harsh of me to say it, he died. My brother had only been four at the time and it appeared that he and my mother might become destitute had it not been for Daniel Walker; my father. That kindly gentleman took pity on my mother and welcomed both her and my brother in to his home. He’d been a childhood friend of James’ who had secretly loved my mother for years and, over time, while lodging in Mr Walker’s home she fell in love with him too. My father proposed to my mother on my brother’s eighth birthday, January 17th 1883.
“Sarah, I want to give you and Philip the life you never had with Butcher. I love you my sweetheart and I couldn’t bear for you to leave. I love the boy too and I see him as my son already. I want him to have brothers and sisters so, Sarah, what I’m asking is will you marry me? Marry me, my love, and make me the happiest man in the world!”
“I’ve waited and waited for those words to escape your lips, of course I’m not going to turn you down now! I love you more than anything Dan Walker and of course I’ll marry you!”
So that is how that came to pass. I was the first child of Sarah and Daniel Walker. Born on February 15th 1887.
“Call her Rose Mam! Please!” my mother just looked at Phil with a questioning expression then looked at her husband while I lay in her arms, barely an hour old. He just smiled at his step-son, he was so proud of the boy; he, Phil, had even started to call my father ‘dad’, which touched his heart.
“I love the name Rose!” stated Sarah looking back at her son, “what do you think Dan?” looking up towards her husband for the second time.
“I think this,” he said pointing at me, “is our little Rose.”
And so that is how I came to pass.
The children followed in quick succession over the next few years. Scott in 1888, Luke in 1889 and Susan in 1891. Philip was already sixteen by the time our youngest sister was born and both he and my father worked to keep the rest of us going. As my mother was left all day, alone, with four under-five year olds, she was glad of the adult company she got when her husband and eldest son got home of an evening. We were never rich, but we never struggled to get by. My father’s wage was relatively high as a solicitor’s clerk and Philip helped run the local bakery owned by elderly Mr Stewart and his son, John. Throughout my childhood, things remained pretty much the same. I remember my friends asking me why my brother was so much older than the rest of us and how I retold the whole sorry tale. By the time I reached the age of sixteen, my brother had a girl he was courting, a business he was near enough running and a family who still loved him as much as they always had, regardless of the fact that he was twenty eight. Despite the twelve year age gap, I felt very close to Phil. I think he had bonded with me from birth and as his other brothers and sister grew, the novelty had worn off but still, he loved me and I loved and respected him, held him on a pedestal and knew he could do no wrong. We often wandered the streets together, we usually got took for a couple, although Philip often got evil glances as he was obviously several years my senior and although I was very mature, I still looked no older than I was. On two separate occasions though, Philip was assumed to be my father.
“She’s mighty pretty, your daughter sir, you must be so proud.” stated an elderly gentleman we spoke to once while picnicking in the park.
“My sister, sir.”
“Oh?” said the gentleman, clearly puzzled.
“Yes, sir, my sister,” he repeated rather grudgingly, I could feel my cheeks flushing slightly but I continued to force myself to smile.
“Ah no offence meant to you sir,” the elderly gentleman bowed his head slightly and continued on his way.
Once he had turned the corner and out of the park Phil turned to look at me, trying to compress my giggles, “Do I seriously look old enough to be your father Rosie?” I lay back onto the patterned tartan rug that lay between me and the grass and continued to laugh.
“No Phil, rest assured, you don’t. I’m afraid that gentleman may have left his spectacles at home.” And we continued to laugh about that all the way home.
*
It was a cold Sunday afternoon in early November when our family peace was shattered. My brother and his girlfriend could be heard arguing from the five houses away as I wandered up Moorland Terrace, followed by my younger siblings. We heard shouting echoing from the kitchen as we quickly made our way upstairs to avoid the dispute.
“You rotten bitch, Sam! You evil cow! How could you?” I was sat in the bedroom I shared with Susan, she was sat on the opposite bed reading a book, or pretending anyway. An on-going sob echoed up the stairs accompanied by Philip’s shouts at his girlfriend. Scott and Luke appeared at the bedroom door, about five minutes later, raising their eyebrows with a questioning glance at me, as though they could not hear the shouts from downstairs. I shook my head helplessly and indicated to them to enter the room.
“What the hell could have happened eh? I’ve never heard Phil shout. I can’t see them making up, an’ swearing as well…” The slamming of the front door caused Scott to stop talking abruptly. I kneeled up on my bed and looked down the road; Sam appeared to be being dragged home by her parents who, though I had not heard them, must have also been in the kitchen, controlling the quarrel. I shot an apprehensive glance towards my brothers and sister who had congregated around me.
“Do you think we should go down?” I asked.
“You do it, Rosie, he’ll talk to you.” I nodded, got up and walked to the door, looked again at my younger siblings and walked slowly downstairs. I found Phil sat at the kitchen table; he did not seem to acknowledge my presence just continued to look straight ahead, past the cupboard, past the brick and mortar and straight into next-doors kitchen. His hands were cupped around the back of neck.
“Phil?” I said in a querying tone, he continued to look straight ahead but a joking smile crossed his lips.
“That stupid, lying, self-centred bitch!” he laughed incomprehensively. I ran to the chair next to him and took his hand.
“Tell me honey, what happened?”
“She’s only gone and got herself pregnant hasn’t she!” he near enough shouted this. I clapped my hand to my mouth in complete shock.
“Who…Who…” I stammered
“The father? Christ knows and he’s the only one who bloody well cares because God knows I don’t give a damn about that girl anymore. He’s marrying her and that’s the end of it. I don’t want to hear from that deceitful bitch ever again.” I could tell that the look in my gaze was one of pity. But he didn’t need it. My whole family had disliked Sam and were brave enough to tell but Phil continued to pursue the relationship, because it was simple, he loved her. But every one of us knew she would break his heart one day. I smiled inwardly to myself as I knew she was finally getting what she deserved. I told myself not to think such thoughts but I was so happy he had got that girl out of his life for good. “I can’t tell mam and dad, Rosie, not myself, I can’t be doing with their false sympathy. Bless them, they mean well but they can’t fool me, I know you disliked Samantha, I only wish you’d have made me believe you when you told me what she was like.” I smiled a truly sympathetic smile. He rose and walked to the door then halted and turned to face me, I had already moved to look out of the window. “Rose?” My gaze returned to him, “tell the family for me please, like I say, I can’t do it myself for fear of false sympathy.”
I nodded “shall do.”
“Thanks Rose,” He ran back over to my chair and hugged my shoulders, “you’re the best sister in the whole world! No arguments.” And just as I looked up again, I saw his tall figure disappear through the kitchen door.
I continued to sit, soundly in my chair for the following five minutes. My thoughts were interrupted by my brothers and sisters arriving in the room, I didn’t acknowledge them, however, until my brother, Scott, sat on the opposite side of the table to me, obscuring my view of the crockery on the sideboard. I shook my head as though to return myself to reality.
“So?” he said urgently.
I shook my head. “Sam…” I paused and looked into my brother’s imperative eyes, “she’s pregnant, with another mans baby.” Scott’s jaw dropped. I looked up at my other brother and sister stood behind him. They both had the same expression upon their faces; the same one I had on my face when I had been told the news, and no doubt it would not be the last time I saw that look that evening.
“Who?” Asked Luke.
I shrugged, “even Phil doesn’t know. He said he didn’t care either. Bless him, he may act strong but I know he must be crying a river inside of him and once the anger has subsided.” I stopped for a moment and shook my head, “who knows what he’ll be like.” My brothers and sister all nodded slowly, clearly not comprehending exactly what was happening. We all assumed that Sam would be the one Phil would marry, even if we didn’t want him to. I knew we must all be feeling the same at that particular moment; incomprehensive, slightly scared but enormously relived.
My parents returned about thirty minutes later from their weekly Sunday visit to my grandparents’ house. My younger siblings and I were all sat around the kitchen table looking through it as though it wasn’t there and all we could see was the flagged stone floor beneath our feet. “Somebody die?” our father’s voice bought us all around and each of us looked into his face. Our gazes were identical to those we had held earlier. My mother put down her clutch bag on the sideboard and had an anxious expression on her face.
“Rose? What’s going on? Where’s Phil? Something’s happened hasn’t it?” Her voice got increasingly urgent as she spoke.
“Phil’s fine Mam,” I said, avoiding eye-contact with any member of my family, especially my parents, and looking down at the table again, “it’s just his and Sam’s relationship that isn’t.”
I heard my mother sit down at the table but I still did not raise my eyes, “explain further Rose. What’s happened?”
I obeyed without question and continued to tell my mother and father about the events of the afternoon, “so that’s why Phil isn’t here now, he said he didn’t want our sympathy.” I only looked up at my family once I had finished speaking and that increasingly famous expression had crept onto my mother’s face although not my father’s. Beyond his eyes I could see anger rising but it was at that moment we heard the front door slam shut and felt a surge of freezing autumn air circulate around the room. I opened my mouth to warn against saying anything too sympathetic but was saved the hassle as we heard Phil climb the stairs and close the door of the bedroom he shared with Scott and Luke. I sighed slightly and began to bite the nail of my little finger while resting my head upon my other hand. I saw my mother looking up towards the ceiling as though longing to see through the floorboards at what Phil was doing. “You should go and talk to him Rose,” her eyes not shifting from their focal point on the ceiling, “you can act as our go-between for a while, while he calms down.” I could not tell whether my mother’s voice was laced with sadness that my brother felt he could speak to me better than her or with resentment for that self same reason, but I could not dwell on something I knew she did not mean, so I nodded, hurried out of the room and up the stairs.
I put my hand out to knock on the door, once I had reached his bedroom, but my hand seemed to be caught in suspended animation, as though I was building up confidence, scared of my own brother’s reaction to my calling on him. Something appeared to strike some sense inside me for I stopped thinking such ridiculous thoughts and knocked assertively on his wooden door. I heard a couple of moments movement inside the room before my brother opened the door. I was unsure of what Phil’s reaction would be to me, he had left in a somewhat angry mood, which was only to be expected and I could hardly blame him for it. By the time I had stepped foot inside the door, Phil had already slumped himself down upon his bed.
“Regardless of what you say Phil, mam and dad care about you and worry for you. You know we never liked Sam,” I walked over and sat on Luke’s bed, next to Phil’s, and put a hand on his, “but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be happy that you split up because we know your happiness is more important. So of course we’ll be sympathetic. It’s only natural can’t you see that.”
“Yes Rose, of course I can, but I don’t want it. I know I’m not going to stop them giving it me but I don’t desire nor require it!”
I grinned, but not at anyone other than myself. I lifted Phil’s hand and kissed it softly then rose and crossed to the door. “We’re all here for you honey, when you need to talk things over and sort things out.”
Phil sat bolt upright. “I know that Rose! And thanks.” And for the first time all day, I saw a true smile cross his face; an infectious smile which appeared, powerlessly, on my face too as I turned and left the room.