This man preyed on my poor brother for cold, hard cash
Snuggled up in bed next to my little brother Paul, 5, I opened the book and began to read. Wide-eyed, with his head on my shoulder, he hung onto every word.
‘I love Thomas the Tank Engine,’ he beamed as I finished the last page. ‘My favourite.’ ‘I know,’
I smiled.
A few months earlier, Paul had been hit by a car.
He’d been in a coma and we were warned he wouldn’t survive.
But he fought back – and, as he grew stronger, I’d cuddle up beside him in his hospital bed, and read Thomas The Tank Engine books to keep him occupied.
Though I was only two years older, I loved looking after Paul. He was quiet and shy and he hated any confrontation.
I saw it as my job to stick up for him. And all through
‘You’re like a little mother hen,’ my mum Josie would say.
In time, I married and had five children, Stephen, Melissa, Nicola, Simon and Kimberley.
Paul grew up to become an engineer, worked in Germany.
He played in a pipe band and was a talented guitarist, too.
He got married and had three children – he was a wonderful dad to them and his wife’s first child.
But, when he was 39, Paul started having some problems with his health. He’d shake uncontrollably. And he’d stagger, too, as though he was drunk.
Paul had never been a drinker, he didn’t even like the taste of alcohol.
We couldn’t work out what was wrong. He saw his GP and had a string of tests.
Eventually, he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
He was devastated.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, Julie,’ he said. ‘It scares me.’
I felt dreadful for him.
‘I’m here for you,’ I promised.
Esta historia es de la edición June 01 2017 de Chat.
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Esta historia es de la edición June 01 2017 de Chat.
Comience su prueba gratuita de Magzter GOLD de 7 días para acceder a miles de historias premium seleccionadas y a más de 9,000 revistas y periódicos.
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