Jonathan JE Brown – Writer and Content Creator

Just outside Escrick, Yorkshire, 1902

The snow had fallen thick and cloying; trying to get through it was a thankless task. Nature didn’t want us to move. It wanted us to stay indoors and survive while it had its way with the outside world. 

And we didn’t survive. Not all of us. My brother, who’d been living with me and the wife Jess for some time now, no longer lived. He was still there in the form of a corpse – a stinking one at that – but his soul had gone. At least I hoped it’d gone. It wasn’t his body that’d become the source of hostility and anger within my small home, but his emotional presence. 

—

What was to be done with the body had become another of the many arguments between me and the wife. With winter soon to set in for good, if we didn’t move him now then we’d be stuck with him ‘til spring.

The family burial plot was by the house, so Jess said we should bury him in the snow until then. She was worried we’d catch the consumption that took him. While I didn’t want his body hanging around outside my window through winter, the long walk into town wasn’t much appealing either.

“Make a decision for once in your life,” said Jess. 

And I did – town was the best for him, and me. I could leave him with the church and collect him for a proper burial in spring – not that I had any intention of burying him in family plot. Not after what had happened. 

“Only a mile or so down road to church,” I said, as if going for a gentle stroll, not a slog through the snow dragging the dead weight of my brother behind me. 

—

He was bound tight and fast to our sleigh. His body wrapped in leather. She insisted on this. It wasn’t the good leather, but not our worst. He didn’t feel the cold, so why did he get leather. She says it’s to preserve his dignity, but I’d argue that’d gone a long time ago. Dignity was for the rich, not for poor folk like us where kin have to share everything and where loved ones don’t get privacy. 

Before he moved we were friends and would walk these paths time and again, to and from the pub, in to town on long summer evenings or simply to catch up with the weekly goings-on. 

He always looked up to me. His older brother, his guide. I think he liked my steady life. It’s true, it were a good, solid life. I knew what every day would bring from one season to the next for the next 10 years. He had no such plan. 

—

I set off in the early morning, though it was hard to pinpoint the exact time. The sky was a thick porridge grey instead of coal black. A low sun somewhere started to poke through every now and then but I couldn’t see it as the wind blew my eyes shut. My hood covered most my face but my eyes poked out. Not that I needed them. When the snow came, I wouldn’t be able to see an arm’s length. But I knew this path well. I didn’t need my eyes. 

Dragging him behind me, I took my first steps. 

Why had things started to go so wrong when he’d moved in? Before, I was set. Jess had her role and I mine and that was that. We were happy to play the roles out without worry or fear. We didn’t argue… much. We were financially comfortable as we had no children. The food was hearty and kept us in good health. What more did we need?

It’s why I was happy to have him stay. He told me that he’d tried to make a name for himself in that city but had come back home. 

“I’ve got a plan…well, plans,” he said. “That’s the problem, too much going on. Too many plans. I just need some time away from it all to figure out what to do.”

A tailor’s apprentice, selling medical supplies, starting a blacksmith business…it went on. 

Every night he told us tales of the people in that city and how they were making money. But also how they were poor craftsmen, not like us. They did the minimum to get by and people were happy with that. He thought that if he could apply our hard working ethos and skills then he could make something great. Something that people would not just want but would need. 

“But what’d they need? They got everything, surely?,” asked Jess. 

What this “everything” was, I personally could never imagine but Jess always seemed interested. 

“What did they wear? What are the parties like? Oh, it must be so glamorous.” 

“Jess, leave the boy alone would you,” I said, embarrassed by her girlish attitude around him. 

“Ah, it’s fine,” he said. “She’s just interested to know there’s a world outside these four walls.”

“Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with these walls. See that there,” I said, pointing to a beam. “Felled, carved and laid it myself. Nuthin wrong with them walls.”

A small laugh rose from both their lips. Nothing was further from mine. 

—

Just half an hour I managed before the first stop – we’d been going sideways slightly instead of straight down. 

I could still see home over my shoulder. A single window barely lit by my fire inside. My fire that was once so warm and welcoming now looked like a warning. Do not enter here. I reached down and checked the corpse, moving him slightly to stop him from sliding off the side of the sled. 

The temptation to drop him here and pick him up again when the thaw came was great. But I couldn’t. Despite everything, I couldn’t just let go. 

—

It started even before he’d arrived. When news was sent that he was coming, Jess decided that we should slaughter a chicken. 

“It’ll be a nice way to celebrate,” she said. 

I wasn’t sure what we were celebrating. He’d visited before. I knew how it would go. Yes, he’d be staying longer but that just meant more of the same. 

I was considering putting him to work on the land but thought better of it. By the time I’d trained him again and kept an eye on him, I’d have been better off doing it myself. 

I enjoyed the chicken, roast potatoes and cabbage and even the conversation. Hearing about that city made me realise how much I didn’t want to go there. At first I thought Jess was agreeing with me. She would laugh when my brother spoke of the conditions they lived in and the way they were treated. But then, he laughed also. It was a big joke to him. The hardships never mattered because he could laugh them off, while the joys and excitement stayed with him. 

At the time I didn’t spot it, but I started to notice that at every meal the conversation would come back to life in the city. Gone was the welcome silence of dinner. I appreciate a hot meal, so would eat while it was still so. But my brother and Jess would talk until the potatoes had lost their steam. 

It’d even get as far as our bedroom, Jess talking about the wonder of the city while I tried to sleep. 

One night when he was in town and had decided to stay the night, me and Jess sat having dinner. We’d not sat at the table but round the fire. I was staring into the logs when Jess spoke. 

“I’d love to visit your brother,” she said. 

I assumed she was speaking theoretically and just smiled and nodded. 

“How long it would take to get there? I mean, it can’t be more than a day. The work here wouldn’t suffer. What do you think?” 

“Of course we can’t go. You don’t realise how finely balanced our lives are. We keep at it, we’re fine. Two, three days away and the whole thing comes down,” I told her. 

She went to speak but I cut her off. 

“It’s not just the two or three days of missed work – it would take another day or two more to get back up to speed. Then, we’d be down on the month’s taking. That’d means less money and less feed and seeds. Then next harvest is down. Do you understand?”

She nodded and started cleaning up. I assumed my brother never heard of the conversation, but it didn’t matter as the issue was put to bed. Or so I thought. 

A day later, he returned. It only took half a day before Jess had brought the issue up again.

“Would you be able to show me around if I came down to London?” she asked. 

I reminded her of our conversation but it appeared that I’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. She informed me that only I was needed to work – there was nothing stopping her from going. The table went quiet. Even my brother, with his wild ideas and modern ways, realised that a line had been crossed. 

—

The snow was building up again, so I stopped. I cleared it first from my eyes and face then from my shoes and finally from the sled. 

Underneath the leather I could feel the shape of him. His wiry arms that had wrapped around me as we wrestled when we were boys. His small yet powerful chest that panted after running through the fields. His head, so filled with ideas and dreams that it never had room for common sense. 

As I looked at the body and thought how quickly he left us, it made me regret not asking more questions. Not about his life but about what he was doing in my home. 

—

The way Jess listened to the stories – she changed when my brother arrived in the house. She was never like this with me. Not even in the early days when we met. I’d always been a straight forward, honest man. I told her what I expected of life and how she would fit into it. She accepted her role. 

But now she was talking about things outside our lives – outside of my ken and control. It made me feel…I’m not sure. Not scared but on edge. That feeling when you know that you’ve got to do something you dislike but have forgotten what it is. 

If Jess had been so interested in his life, why had she not chosen the city over the countryside. Then I had a thought – what if it was him who she was interested in, not the city. She was a good and honest woman – handsome and often the centre of attention in the village, which was why we didn’t often visit the local pub. But my brother, on the other hand, had past form with the local women. Some said that’s why he left for the city. 

And while Jess was smarter than them, my brother had his ways. The only way she would even think such thoughts would be if she had been given a hint or sign that it was suitable, or that he’d played mind games with her. 

It took just this first splinter of suspicion to work its way into my mind – a splinter that if not removed would infect the whole. It spread fast, moving past common sense and logic into anger – such indescribable anger. You can paint yourself any story if you’ve got the basic tools – the right cast, the setting, and motivation. 

He’d come back from the city to seduce and steal my wife. He’d turned her head with stories of glamour and riches. Offered her something ‘more’. More than what I could give her. 

Every day, little things just made their little story more believable. 

“More potatoes?” she asks. Not to me, who’d sown and harvested the meal on our plates, but to him. 

He smiles, gives a wink and holds up his plate. 

“I’d be a fool to refuse something so lovely,” he says as if I – her husband, his brother – weren’t in the room.

And so I began looking for something solid, some evidence. For days I tried to catch them at it. Returning from the field unexpectedly, leaving a room and then returning. Looking quickly up from my bowl. 

But while I was there, it may well have only been a flirtation. I had to give them time to make their illicit affair concrete. I decided I would go into town for a day. Not only would this give them the chance they needed and wanted to do what they had been planning but it would also would give me time to sort things out – get things ready for his departure. 

“Can I join you?” he asked. I was surprised as he hadn’t wanted to join me on anything since his return, happy to keep to himself. 

“And you Jess?” I asked, thinking she’d jump at the chance to spend time with him outside of the home.

“Not today. Be nice to have the house to myself without you men messing it up.”

While this put my plan back, I decided I’d use the time to get some answers from him directly. So we both set off. It was just over a week ago that we walked this route together. And here we were doing it again – well, I’m walking, he’s being pulled. As life, so in death I’ll pull him along. 

I tired talking to him, but my pace was too much for him and he was often out of breathe. When we did talk it was about him going back to the city soon.

“I just need a few days to recharge my batteries. It takes it out of you. The smoke. This fresh air is the only thing I miss.” he told me as he coughed. 

“Not me and Jess?”

“Come on. We’ve never been close. Do you miss me?”

I walked on. I didn’t want to admit that I did miss my little brother, not with the way he was behaving, and was somewhat hurt he didn’t realise this. 

In the village he disappeared while I did some shopping. When we returned, he was silent. I’d just have to gather the evidence at home, I thought at the time. But before I could gather it, the sickness started to take hold. 

It didn’t take long – just a few days from the first signs to his passing. I noticed when his hanky was spotted red. He held it to his mouth every second for those few days. 

Trudging through the snow, I now realised I hadn’t seen it since he died. I stopped and slowly opened the leather. There was his weak, small body. I reached into his pocket and pulled the hankie out. But it wasn’t just one – three, four, five hankies came with it. some of them I recognised as mine. One was stained with the last of his blood. The others were also stained but had clearly been washed for the stains were a pale brown, not red. 

I’d never known my brother to wash anything in his life. He’d always get someone else to do it. 

And then it hit me. Jess. She’d been giving him my hankies and washing them for him. She’d known – probably from the first day. She’s good like that; knows when I’m sick before I do.

She’d not been flirting with him, but comforting him in his final days. The trip to London wasn’t to shop but to look after him. The potatoes she’d so generously offered were to boost his strength. 

And the more I thought of it, the more I realised how unsuited my brother and Jess would be together. I even laughed now at the absurdity of it. I’ve pulled him along in life and Jess knew it. For all that she had her problems with me, she chose me as much as I chose her. She liked the things in me that aren’t in him. 

In fact, it was neither my brother or Jess that was the source of upset in the household – but me. I’d been blind not just to my brother’s suffering but to Jess’ as well. For all I’ve said I enjoy my solid, stable life, his talk of the cities and the parties and the plans set something off in me.

At first I didn’t mind because I thought they were ruining him. That although he was enjoying them to start with, he’d regret the day he left and return home. That’s what I thought this was. When he sent his message to say he was coming home I thought his wandering lifestyle was over. But it wasn’t – and I was jealous. I was jealous because he loved it and was making a go of it. 

It’s not that I wanted to join him – the me that I was today wouldn’t like it. But I feel that there is a part of me that in the past might have enjoyed it and his arrival shone a light on part of my soul that I’d been keeping in shadows for fear that it would drive me crazy with regret. 

But I wasn’t strong enough to do it – to give up the stable life and push for the stars. He was though. I couldn’t do it now – my life is too shaped and moulded by who I’ve become. 

But not him. That’s who he is and shame on me for hoping he’d change, for hoping that this life would break him. Shame on me for thinking that he had eyes for my wife and that she was tempted. Shame on me for not telling him this when he was alive. Shame on me for not realising that my brother had come home to die and here I was dragging his body away.

The village is only ten more minutes away now. But, we’re not going there are we? That’s not where he belongs. It’s uphill all the way back and the snow’s getting thicker. But he belongs at home. Just like I do now.