The Marshalls

by Kit

Chapter 1

Author's Note:

'The Marshalls' is Volume Two of Fraternal Duties. It follows on chronologically from Volume One, and it has most of the same characters and locations. Volume One, 'Gran's House', should be read first.

Will sat on the park bench, eating a ham sandwich and wondering if he could afford to stay in his flat now that Helen had gone. He'd spent the morning in the usual Monday catch-up meetings, but he'd been finding it difficult to concentrate. Now he was using his lunch break to try and clear his mind. Just as he was about to make his way back to the office, his phone rang, displaying a number that he didn't recognise.

"Is that William Marshall?"

The combination of the unknown number and the unfamiliar voice of a mature woman made him respond warily.

"Yes."

"I'm Rose Lassiter, from Meedford Social Services. Has your father contacted you about your brother?"

"No," Will replied, beginning to feel concerned. "Is John okay?"

He wasn't surprised that his father hadn't called him, but he thought that if something bad had happened to John, surely he would have been contacted by the police or by medical staff rather than by social services.

"Not really," she replied. "It appears that he was attacked and badly beaten on Friday night, and he's currently in Meedford Infirmary."

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. Then as shock gave way to concern, he added, "How is he? Who did it?"

"There are a lot of bruises and a few cuts, but there's nothing life-threatening," she reassured him. "Will you be coming to see him soon?"

"Yes, of course," Will replied, looking at his watch. "I'll go his afternoon. I'm in Linchester, so I can be at the hospital in less than an hour."

"That's good. I'd really appreciate it if you could spare a few minutes to chat with me after you see him, so I'll meet you there."

"What do you want to chat about?"

"It's a potentially very delicate situation," she said cagily, "and is best dealt with in person."

As soon as the call ended, Will returned to the office and explained the situation to his supervisor, who was very sympathetic and quickly agreed to his request to take the afternoon off work. Then, without taking time to go back to his flat, he set off to Meedford. During the half-hour drive, his worries about his brother completely eclipsed his earlier concerns about the flat.

When he arrived at the infirmary and found his way to the correct ward, he saw a woman standing in the corridor by the ward entrance. She was quite short and appeared to be in her mid-fifties, with streaks of grey in her black hair.

"Mr Marshall," she said, approaching him with a warm smile, "I'm Rose Lassiter."

"How did you know it was me?" he asked.

"I can see the family resemblance. Also, this is about the time you were expected, and you have the look of a worried big brother."

"Can I see him now?" Will asked, glancing at the ward's closed doors.

"I understand how concerned you must be," she replied sympathetically. "It's not actually visiting time at the moment, but I had a word with the charge nurse, and he said that under the circumstances you can have a couple of minutes. You can come back for the official visiting time later."

"Okay, thanks."

He tentatively pushed open the doors, stepped inside, and paused to get his bearings. On the left, just inside the door, was a cubicle in which a tall, fair-haired man was standing and looking at the screen of an electronic tablet. He looked up, and frowned when he first saw Will, but then he seemed to remember something and his expression of disapproval melted away.

"You must be John Marshall's brother," he said, stepping out of the cubicle. "Rose said you live out of town and have just found out about his injuries. You can see him now, but only for a couple of minutes. Please bear in mind that this is a one-off exception, and you should check the notice in the corridor to see the proper visiting times."

The ward was a large, square room with four beds along each of three walls and a nursing station in the middle. The nurse there had been watching his interaction with the charge nurse, and with a smile, she pointed towards John's bed. Will was shocked to see his brother's face, which was so badly bruised and swollen that it was barely recognisable. The left cheekbone was the worst affected, and there was gauze covering the eye. Bandages were wrapped around the boy's right arm from just above the elbow to the wrist.

John appeared to be asleep, and Will, guessing that his brother might be heavily medicated with painkillers, wondered if it would be better to leave without disturbing him. On the other hand, he thought that his little brother would want to know he was there, so he moved closer to the bed and spoke quietly.

"John," he said, "are you awake?"

Even through the mental fog caused by the medication, the boy recognised the familiar voice and knew immediately who was there.

"Will," he mumbled, opening his uncovered eye.

"Don't bother trying to talk now," Will said, gently touching the boy's left hand. "They just let me in for a couple of minutes, but I'll be back for a proper visit later."

John gave a little smile and appeared to drift off to sleep, so Will reluctantly left the bedside. However, before exiting the ward, he stopped to speak with the Charge Nurse, who was checking and signing some forms.

"I know you're busy and that I shouldn't really be here, but I'm worried about my brother, and I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know how he is."

The man gave a little sigh and smiled sympathetically as he picked up his electronic tablet and swiped the screen a few times.

"I know he looks a bit of a mess, but fortunately, most of the injuries aren't serious. There's substantial bruising on his chest and back, but there are no fractured ribs. His left eye is covered to protect the swollen area around it, but there's no damage to the eye itself. Despite the bruises on his head, there's no damage to his skull or brain," he said as he read the screen.

He looked up and continued, "There's substantial bruising on the lower back, but scans didn't indicate any physical damage to the kidneys. However, we're monitoring urine output to check kidney function."

"Thanks," Will replied. "How long will you keep him in?"

"That's not really up to me. You'll need to check that with the doctor in charge. However, based on my experience, he could be discharged in about a week if his kidneys are okay."

Will thanked the man again and went out into the corridor, where he saw the social worker sitting on a chair and flicking through a sheaf of papers.

"Ah, there you are," she said, putting the papers into a battered, old leather briefcase and standing up. "Did Jason give you an update on John's condition?"

"Yes," he replied, assuming she was referring to the Charge Nurse.

"I don't know what your plans are for between now and visiting time," she said, "but I'm dying for a cup of tea, and I'd really appreciate it if you could spare a few minutes for a chat."

"That's fine," he replied with a slight nod, "and presumably you can fill me in on what happened to John."

"Yes, of course I'd be happy to tell you what I know, but at the moment, it isn't much. You could contact the police for more information. I can give you a phone number and a case number. Actually, it was only when I spoke to John this morning that I found out that you exist, so maybe the police don't know about you either. They'd probably like to talk with you to get some background information."

He wondered what background information she was referring to, but it didn't seem appropriate to talk about that in a public corridor. She obviously had the same thought and asked him if he'd go with her to the hospital cafeteria, where they both ordered tea and some biscuits. When they settled down at an empty table, she invited him to call her 'Rose'.

"You can call me 'William' or 'Will'," he replied, and with a slight smile, he continued, "but definitely not 'Willy'."

"As I said, until John mentioned you this morning and gave me your phone number, the only relative I knew about was your father. Even though your brother was a little, erm, befuddled by the painkillers, he made it clear that he wanted to contact you. Frankly, I find it odd that your father hadn't already been in touch with you."

"Dad and I don't really get on," Will said, frowning.

"Do you have any other relatives?"

"Mum had lots of relatives in the Philippines, but we lost contact with them after she died. Gran, my dad's mother, died a few years ago, and I don't think we have any other family here."

Although he wasn't absolutely sure, Will believed that his father had deliberately cut off communication with his mother's family. He thought that was probably around the time, a year after her death, when his father had got rid of everything related to his wife. The only thing that Will had been able to salvage was a box in which there were fourteen photos of his mother. He kept them secret from his father because, depending on whether the man was sober or drunk, he either went into a sulk or flew into a rage when one of his sons mentioned their mother.

"What happened to your mother?" Rose asked.

"There were complications when John was born," Will said, frowning and wondering why this social worker was stirring up such old, unhappy memories. "She was a nurse in this hospital, and she also died here, so maybe that's one reason Dad hasn't come."

"How old were you when your brother was born?"

"Seven, almost eight."

"As John will be fifteen in August, that would mean you'll be twenty-three soon," she said, doing a little mental arithmetic.

"Yes, in October," he replied, wondering why she was asking such questions and why she was even involved in this situation.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here and why I wanted to talk with you," she said. Seeing Will's startled expression, she smiled gently and added, "Don't worry, I can't read minds, but I know what I'd be thinking in similar circumstances. I'll be happy to explain, but this place is a little busy for discussing private matters. The hospital lets social services use a room here, so we can go there if you wish."

He agreed, and she led him up some stairs and through a couple of corridors until they reached the room she'd mentioned. It was quite small, with just enough space for a square table and four surprisingly comfortable red plastic chairs. They sat down, and she took a notebook and pen from her briefcase.

"First," she said, "here's what we know about what happened to John."

Rose told him that on Friday night, just after eleven o'clock, his brother had been found on the street outside Victoria Park by a young couple who were on their way home from a pub. He was injured and semi-conscious, sitting on the ground and leaning against the fence. The young man, suspecting there'd been a mugging, called for an ambulance and the police. When questioned, John said he couldn't remember what had happened, and the paramedics thought he might have a concussion.

Later, after receiving treatment at the hospital, John told police that he remembered being attacked by two men as he was walking past the park. He couldn't remember anything about the men apart from the fact they were both big and muscular. When asked what he was doing out at that time, the boy said that he'd just been going for a walk. Then, having got John's address, the police went to inform his father.

"So he was probably mugged," Will said angrily.

"Possibly," Rose said doubtfully, "but he still had a wallet with about twenty pounds in cash."

"What about his phone? I gave him my old phone on the Christmas before last. Maybe they mugged him to get that."

"He didn't have it with him when he was brought to the hospital, but maybe he left it at home."

"He wouldn't go out without it," Will said with conviction. "Anyway, I still don't understand why your department is involved."

"Well, when the police started investigating it as a possible mugging and robbery, they made some observations and found some, erm, inconsistencies."

She went on to say that John couldn't explain why he'd gone for a walk at such a late hour, especially without wearing a jacket, even though it had been quite chilly that night. The boy had received injuries that were from a sustained and severe beating, and he'd probably been kicked in the back many times while he'd been lying on the ground. The police thought that it was unlikely that muggers would spend time doing that, especially in the relatively well-lit location where John had been found.

The fact that the wallet and cash hadn't been taken also indicated that it wasn't a standard mugging. The police checked CCTV video from the surrounding area and found John on two of the cameras between his home and the park. On both of them, he was staggering along and appeared already to be injured before reaching the place where he said he'd been attacked. Also, when the police went to inform John's father, they found that he was drunk and apparently not particularly concerned about his son.

When asked if he knew why his son had gone out, their father said that he didn't know. He also claimed that when he got home from the pub, he hadn't seen John and had assumed he'd already gone to bed. One of the policemen noticed some fresh abrasions and the beginning of bruising around the man's knuckles and asked how he'd hurt his hand. John's father replied that it must have happened when he'd been drunk and that he couldn't remember.

"Given all that," Rose concluded, "together with the fact that your father hasn't shown any interest in visiting John, the police suspect that John was beaten up by his father and that he ran out of the house to escape. However, while your brother sticks to his story about being attacked by two men near the park, they don't have enough evidence to take things further. Because they were concerned for John's safety, they contacted social services."

"Dad doesn't like hospitals, especially this one," Will said, addressing the most superficial point she'd made because he was reluctant to think about what the police suspected.

"Whatever his reasons," she responded, clearly not considering that to be an adequate reason for the father not visiting his injured son, "before John leaves hospital, I need to assess the situation in respect to his safety. Also, before I talk with your father, it would be very helpful if you could provide me with some background information by answering some questions."

"Okay," he agreed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"My goal is to ensure the long-term safety of your brother, so I really hope you'll be honest and open with me."

In response to his nod of acquiescence, she opened the notepad and made a few notes. Although he could see what she wrote, he couldn't understand the marks on the paper, which he assumed must be shorthand.

"Has your father ever been violent, especially when he's been drunk?"

"He gets angry easily and sometimes bashed things or kicked furniture, but he never hit us," Will replied, then added hesitantly, "Well, when we were little, he'd sometimes he'd slap our legs if we were bad."

"You said that you didn't get on well with your father. Why is that?'

"Ever since Mum died, he's been irritable all the time. Nothing can please him, and he seems to think that anything we enjoy must be bad."

"So, I presume it was the same for both you and John, but you were able to leave home."

"I went to university," Will replied defensively, his suppressed feelings of guilt rising closer to the surface, "and I chose Linchester because it was far enough for me not to live at home but near enough to see my brother as often as possible."

"Did you feel that you needed to keep an eye on him? Did you fear for his safety?"

"No, I didn't think he was unsafe, and I can't believe that Dad would hurt him, at least not physically. But I wanted to be close enough to give, erm, moral support," he said, wondering if she might think that he'd abandoned his brother.

"Why did you think he might need moral support?"

"Like I said, living with Dad can be tough, but John's used to it now, and he'll be able to move out in a couple of years."

"Even though it's totally illogical, it's not unusual for a father to feel resentment toward a child when the mother dies in childbirth," Rose said, almost as if she were thinking out loud. "Did your father ever show signs that he blamed John for your mum's death?"

"Sometimes, but I told Dad he was being unfair, and I made sure that John knew that it wasn't his fault."

"Even if he knew that it wasn't his fault, wasn't he upset by the way his father blamed him?" Rose asked, frowning.

"Yes, but he always had me to make him feel better," Will replied. Then, feeling flustered, he added, "I'm sorry, but all this feels a bit like an interrogation, and I'm feeling a little stressed."

"I apologise if you're upset by my questions or if you feel stressed in any way," she said soothingly, a little surprised by his emotional reaction. "Do you want to stop now? Maybe we could take a break or even talk again on a different day. In any case, it really would be very helpful if we could continue at some time before John is discharged from hospital."

"No, it's okay," he replied, accepting that she, too, wanted what was best for John. "Let's carry on while we're here."

Responding to her gentle but probing questions, he continued to provide more information. He was grateful that, probably as a result of her professional training and experience, she maintained a neutral and non-judgemental attitude. Thus, as time went on, he began to feel more comfortable talking about his father and brother.

When John was a baby, Gran cared for him while their father was at work, and she also looked after Will when he wasn't in school. In the evenings, their father did the minimal amount necessary to care for the baby, but Will loved playing with and caring for his little brother. Apart from a brotherly bond, the boy felt the baby was a connection to their dead mother.

Their small house had just two bedrooms, and the baby spent the nights in a cot in Will's bedroom. The boy soon found out that his father didn't want to be disturbed if John cried during the night, so from observing his grandmother, he quickly learned how to comfort the baby, feed him from a bottle, and change a nappy. That last task was unpleasant, but Will felt he was doing it for his baby brother and not to help out his father.

On one occasion, when John was four years old, their father got angry with the toddler and lashed out verbally by saying that he'd killed his mother when he was born. Will was horrified when he heard that and immediately went to comfort his crying little brother. He assured John that it wasn't true and that their dad was just being mean. He explained that sometimes bad things just happened and that it wasn't John's fault.

At twelve years old, Will knew the basics of reproduction, and in the simplest terms he explained to the little boy that a baby was made when a daddy put seed in a mummy's tummy. When the seed had grown enough, it came out as a baby. Sometimes, bad things happened, but if something went wrong, it wasn't the fault of the baby.

Hearing that, their father stormed upstairs to his bedroom, slamming the door and leaving Will to prepare food for himself and his little brother. Of course, the toddler didn't really understand what his big brother had said, but he realised that he was being comforted. Over the years, Will repeated that information until eventually, John did understand it.

When their grandmother died, John had already started school and no longer needed a daytime carer. Will escorted his brother to and from school and looked after him during the holidays. By the time that the older boy went to university, John was eleven years old and able to take care of himself. However, Will stayed in frequent contact with his brother and tolerated spending time with their father so that he could spend Christmas and other holidays with John.

When the boys were small, their father gave money to their grandmother, who bought what the brothers needed. After her death, Will took over the shopping and ensured that both he and his brother were fed and clothed. From Will's point of view, their father was neglectful rather than abusive. However, that point of view was not shared by Rose, though she didn't express those thoughts to the young man at the time.

"Thank you very much for that," Rose said gently at the end of their talk. "If I'd realised how difficult this would be for you, I would've scheduled it over more than one meeting, and preferably in your own home, where you could be more comfortable."

"I don't mind being uncomfortable if it can help my brother," he replied firmly.

"Well, I should be getting back to the office," she said, looking at her watch. "It's almost two hours until you can visit John, and I suppose you must be getting hungry. If you don't fancy something in the cafeteria, I can recommend the Italian restaurant that's just down the street from the hospital main entrance. Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow, after I've consulted with my line manager."

"Okay, thanks," he replied as they both stood up.

After they parted, he decided that he needed to go for a walk outside and get some fresh air, and along the way he passed the restaurant she'd mentioned. Although the menu in the window looked appetising, the prices were quite high, so he decided to save money and have a sandwich in the hospital cafeteria. While he ate and waited to see John, Will remembered the time that he'd first realised what it was like to be a big brother.

HIs mother had started going into labour late one night while Will was in bed. His father woke him up and dropped him off with his grandmother on the way to the hospital, and after that, the only updates the boy got were via his grandmother. The last update made her burst into tears, and with a cracking voice she told Will that his mother had gone to Heaven. Initially unable to process that information, Will sat in stunned silence until he, too, eventually started sobbing.

Two days later, Will's father, apparently still in shock and showing no emotion, came to collect him and take him home. He bluntly told John that his mother was dead and that he wouldn't see her again unless he was good enough to go to Heaven and meet her. When Will asked about the baby, his father, still showing no emotion, merely said that he was okay but that he was staying in the hospital for a few days.

His father avoided talking about the baby until the following week, when he and his mother went to fetch the infant from the hospital. That day, Will returned from school to find his new baby brother in a carrycot on the sofa, with his grandmother sitting next to him. He immediately went to examine the infant, whom he initially thought appeared to be rather ugly.

"Hello, Trevor," he said, remembering his parents' discussions and their decision about naming their new child.

"His name's John," his father said sternly, having entered the room just in time to hear Will speak. "And that's what it is on the birth certificate."

"Hello, John," Will said, looking back down at the infant, who had just opened his eyes.

"You've woken him up," his grandmother chided, looking at his father.

Will's feelings were conflicted. In his grief-stricken mind, the arrival of the baby was linked to the loss of his mother, but he was old enough to know that the infant couldn't be blamed for that. Then he noticed how perfect the tiny hands were, and he reached out to touch one of them, almost as if checking to see if they were real. As soon as Will's finger touched the little hand, the infant grasped it. That first physical contact triggered an emotional connection in Will, and that connection increased as he watched his little brother growing up.

When he bent down to look at the infant more closely, the baby's face displayed an expression of confusion, and then he began to cry. Feeling guilty, Will stood straight up. His father gave him a look of annoyance and was about to scold him, but his grandmother spoke first.

"It's not something you've done," she said kindly. "You can tell from the smell that John just needs his nappy changed."

That memory made Will smile as he also remembered how familiar he'd become with that smell. Sighing, he looked up from his empty plate to the clock on the wall. The reminiscences had been a distraction from his current concern for John, but now it was almost time to go and see his brother.

Will was waiting outside the ward when visiting time began, and he was the first visitor to enter. John, who was sitting up in his bed and was obviously expecting him, raised his left hand and tried to smile but instead winced and grimaced in pain. Because he'd seen it before, the damage to John's face didn't shock Will as much this time, but it still made his heart ache. He wanted to hug his little brother, but he realised that would probably cause more pain, and in any case, it would be difficult while John was in bed.

"You're here," John said, trying to smile despite the pain.

"Of course I am. I came as soon as I found out," Will replied, sitting in the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling now? You were a bit out of it when I popped in to see you earlier."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if that was a dream. The pills they give me are great for the pain but make me fuzzy and sleepy. The last lot are wearing off, but they'll give me more at bedtime."

"So what happened?" the older brother asked, frowning.

"Let's not talk about it now," John said pleadingly. Then, with a worried expression, he added, "Have you talked to Dad?"

"No. A social worker called and told me you were here. You know Dad hates hospitals, so maybe he won't come."

"Good!" the boy exclaimed, then winced and hissed in pain, putting his left hand on his chest. "I don't want him to come."

"They said you might be out of here in a week or so," Will said, eager to change the subject, "but I don't know when they'll let you go back to school. Anyway, I guess it won't be long before the end of term and the summer holidays."

"Can I come and stay with you?"

"Yeah, of course," the older brother replied, thinking that John meant visiting for a couple of weeks in summer as he usually did.

"Great. I don't want to go back to that house with Dad."

"Oh," Will said, realising what John meant. "You want to come and live with me instead of with Dad, and not just come for a visit?"

"Yeah. Don't you want me?"

"Of course I want you, but it's not about what we want but about what's possible. Dad would have to allow it, and what about school?"

"I don't care about what Dad wants and I don't care about school," the boy said bitterly.

"Dad gets to decide where you live, and you have to go to school," Will pointed out. Seeing his brother's disappointed and almost devastated expression, he continued, "But maybe when you get out of here you can stay with me until you go back to school."

"Dad won't care. He doesn't want me. He's never wanted me," John said, upset and close to tears.

Deep down, Will knew that was probably true, so he didn't bother to contradict his brother. Instead, he shifted the subject slightly.

"I guess you know that social services are involved now."

"Yeah, some woman came to talk to me, but I was half asleep and couldn't tell her anything," John replied, and in a slightly panicked tone, he added, "but I don't want to go into some sort of children's home."

"You know I'm always here for you, and I'm always on your side, right?" Will said soothingly. Then, feeling powerless and trying to be honest, he added, "But I can't control everything."

John, looking crestfallen and miserable, nodded his head slowly.

"I'll come and see you every day while you're here," Will said, trying to make his little brother feel better. "And if your phone turns up, you can call me anytime."

"It won't turn up."

"Was it stolen?"

"No, broken," Jon replied, looking at his brother's eyes, almost as if throwing down a challenge. "Dad stamped on it and smashed it up."

"Oh, I'll have a talk with him about that!" Will said angrily.

"No! Please don't," his little brother exclaimed in panic, then winced in pain.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to talk about it now," John said, looking embarrassed.

"Okay," Will soothed, "but I think we'll need to talk about it sooner or later."

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The Marshalls

by Kit

Chapter 1

Author's Note: