My Naughty Brother

  When Mum brought my brother home from hospital in 1938, she showed him to me.  “He looks naughty. Can we send him back?” I was four then and now my brother is six. My Dad says Europe is war-torn at the moment. That means it’s falling apart. Dad’s away a lot, sorting it out. My brother’s standing in the middle of the playground, surrounded by other boys.
  “Your Dad’s a coward,” one of them says. My brother pushes him, and the boy falls backwards.
  “Take that back,” he shouts, before he’s jumped on by the others. Like I said, my brother’s naughty.

  We’re waiting to go to Mass. Tommy isn’t back from playing in the fields and Mum comes downstairs, ready to go.
  “Your coat’s a bit wore-torn, Mum,” I say.
  “Don’t be so cheeky. Out with you and fetch your brother.” As I leave, she’s looking in the mirror. I see Tommy knocking on a door a few houses down. He’s muddy all down one side, and holding a shoe. I can see his feet through his socks.
  “Do you have a spare shoe to match this one?” It’s William’s Mum. She inspects it and smiles at him.
  “I’m afraid not, Tommy. What happened?”
  “Lost it playing in the field. I can’t find it anywhere.” Dad says Tommy’s always loosing things.
  “Well, maybe you should go back and look for it.”
  “I can’t do that, I’m late already. Besides, I’ve looked for ages, and no one has a spare one and Mum’s going to kill me.” I walk up beside him and he looks up at me.
  “We’ve got to get back,” I say. It will be Mum’s birthday next Tuesday. I always remember it: the 20th May. When we get back home, Mum doesn’t get mad, not even when I tell her Tommy’s been knocking on every door in the street, asking if anyone had a spare left shoe.
  “Well, at least they’ll know why he’s going to school in bare feet tomorrow,” she says.

  It’s Mum’s birthday today. Tommy has a new pair of clogs, and Mum has a new coat. She got them at the jumble sale. I want a pair of clogs. They make a great noise when you walk.
  “Your new coat looks nice, Mum,” I say. She hugs me and smiles, but doesn’t mean it. I can tell when Mum’s happy, because she gets little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. I see her looking in the mirror, frowning at her new coat. There’s a knock on the door and Mum looks surprised. She opens it and Dad’s standing there in his uniform. Mum can’t believe it. It’s brilliant. We all go into town. Dad buys Tommy a proper pair of shoes and Mum gets a really new coat. I can tell Mum likes this one. I try Tommy’s clogs on, but they don’t fit. Dad gives me his army hat. I only need to grow a few sizes for it, he says. I can’t wait. When we come back from town there are two men in uniforms waiting.
  “Look Dad, they’re with you.” I look at Mum. There are tears in her eyes. The two soldiers take Dad away. Mum and Tommy are crying. Dad tells them not to worry. He tells me to look after them.

  We found out today. Dad’s invaded Europe. Everybody’s talking about it and smiling and nodding to each other in the street. The next day, we get a telegram. William says telegram’s are bad. I tell Mum not to take it. She shakes her head and I can see her eyes filling up.  She runs upstairs without saying anything. She’s up there for ages. And when she comes down, she says Dad has been very brave. He was dropped behind enemy lines and now he’s missing in action.
  “Will they find him?” asks Tommy. William’s Dad was missing in action in Africa last year.
  “I hope so,” says Mum.

  So now I push through the boys in the playground, and help my brother to his feet. He’s crying and he looks angry. “They’re not going to find him, are they?” He’s looking into my eyes, searching.
  “No Tommy, I don’t think they are.” My brother isn’t naughty. As Dad used to say, that’s just how younger brothers are.