Sibling World

Our Siblings had just been on the ‘Wall of Community’. I remember it so clearly; the vivid image of Brother and Sister projected onto the plain, dull grey, brick wall at the back of the park, where as usual for the Collection, the whole community had gathered. I was standing in-between Mother and Father holding their hands so that I wouldn’t get lost. There were always lots of people at these things and the darkness terrified me but it was okay, Mother and Father always kept me safe in the dark, in the dim light they would hold my hands tight and promise to ‘never let go’.  People were coming up to us buzzing with excitement, Petunia squeezed mum’s hand, “I heard that you got invited!” Her Husband Rich shook Dad’s, “Well done. Absolutely congrats mate, so happy for you.” Even Carol from down the road beamed as she passed us on the way out, patting my back and purposefully grinning to Mother and then to Father in turn, with glistening eyes. We walked back to our home in silence, I could feel the looks passing between my parents as our steps echoed in the empty street – most people stay behind after the Collection to celebrate knowledge but Mother and Father always rushed home to start school. School is illegal; it’s against the Sibling Law of education, which was passed by Brother and Sister a long time ago. But mum and dad used to be teachers and so they believe in school.

Father unlocked the front door and rushed around turning on the hall lights, the upstairs lights and all of the lamps as Mother and I trundled in and took off our coats, scarves, hats and gloves. I slipped off my brown, sturdy leather shoes and swapped them to my cosy, worn slippers, before walking into the kitchen and getting myself a snack. I opened the cupboard, on tip-toes, searching each shelf for something remotely different to the bland Mari biscuits that were Government Issue. Turning around with three biscuits in hand – one for each of us, I noticed that Mother and Father were standing still, next to each other, looking at me carefully, with Mother leaning slightly onto the arm of our sofa to save her bad leg. Their faces are an image engraved into the depths of my mind. Father’s eyes were tired, bloodshot and heavy as he looked into me across the room. Mother’s face was tinged with sadness, a face of hopelessness, a face of loss, a face that didn’t seem to suit Mother. “No school today?” I asked, forcing a smile in an attempt to alter their expressions. It didn’t work.

“No school today.” Father repeated, remaining still. Their eyes didn’t move off of me as I walked towards them, offering the biscuits as I munched on mine and when I looked Mother in the eye she shook her head gently,

“No, darling, we have to go. Your father and I have been invited.” I didn’t understand this, invited to what? What was so important that they had to cancel school? They never cancelled school! With 30 secret pupils, night school was our main income after Father’s job as a doctor and Mother’s as a hospital cleaner.

“Invited to what?”

“The opera,” My father answered, “It is a great honour Nicky, it’s said that Brother himself personally sends out the invites.”

“What time will you be in?” They looked at each other as if to plead each other to answer this one. I wish that they had told me the truth, there and then: why they were invited personally, what they were doing, why them, why now, why us.

“Late.” Mum said, averting her eyes from me. She began to make herself busy, putting her coat back on, her scarf, her hat, and her gloves. “Don’t wait up for us Nicola; I want you in bed by eleven.” I agreed to this, I was tired after training, I always was.

“Bye sweetheart.” Dad said, hugging me tightly before swiftly leaving to wait by the front door for mum. She had stopped moving around the room, cleaning up, tucking in the four chairs that surrounded our kitchen table. I never understood why we had invested in four chairs when there were only three of us.

I looked at her. Her eyes were watering as she walked towards me, daring a tear to form, and as she pulled me into a hug three spilled out, bouncing off of her cheek and onto my hair. “I love you Nicky and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

“Okay mum, enjoy the opera.” She smiled, moved to the door and turned back to wave at me. Feeling like a fool, I waved back, “Have a good time!” I shouted after them and the next moment the door slammed shut and an eerie silence filled each corner of the room. I went back to the cupboard for another biscuit and carried on with my evening, eventually getting to bed at eleven like mum asked. I woke up in the morning and called their names, fear stabbing my heart as I realised they weren’t in, as I ran into each room and searched for them frantically, frustratingly and anxiously wishing and hoping with every piece of my heart that I would open a door and they would be there sitting, chatting, smiling up at me, sipping their cups of tea. But it was no use.  I never was to see them again.

Later Aunt Petunia, mum’s best friend, who I ended up living with, told me everything. She told me about the warning e-messages, about the threats from the ‘catchers’ as the police were known and she showed me the letter that mum had written her. A letter explaining the lies I was told and why I was told them, a letter describing the ‘opera’, how they were sentenced to death and hung before an invited, elite crowd that the Siblings had asked to come. How an audience would stare up at them with disgust, believing that they were traitors, liars, rats. How this was all because they were fighting for something they believed in, that was justified and necessary for society. The night school was to be continued and expanded in up most secrecy as they revealed their plans for becoming a discreetly educated community. Aunt Petunia then described to me my parents’ last breaths. Their last words, their last influence in this world was in four words, ‘We love you Nicola’ they had said. ‘We love you Nicola’ as I was tucked up in bed falling into a deep sleep, beginning my dream for that evening.
I never knew. I never would have thought. I never got the chance to say it back.