My brothers, Walter and Arnold went to sea. Arnold was a musician and composed magnificent things like the ‘Monk’s Dream’ Oh! It was so beautiful: he played it on the zither and it sounded like music from heaven. He was a master of the violin before he was sixteen. I used to call him Paganini and I tried to accompany him on the piano - but my time was out of order and we used to shout and fall out with one and other. ‘Rode’s Variations’ was the end; the violin was thrown out of the window and the bow after it and I flew to my room in tears, otherwise I was his favourite sister and he always told me everything.

Anyway they both sailed for Australia. Arnold on the ‘Orantes’ and Walter on the ‘Star of England’. Arnold came home once in ten years and Walter stayed abroad for over twenty five years.

My father was always delighted to have one of his sons at home again and they used to sit together, my father smoking his long pipe made of an albatross’s wing with a prettily marked stem and a small bone.

Arnold smoked cigarettes - but not many. He had a far away look in his eyes and was dreamy. He used to return to his room and we would hear things his violin or soft music from a zither which he was quite a genius at playing.

He asked me once to go for a walk with him and he took me along to Cherry Orchard Road near to where we were living. There  was  a corner  shop which  had prints  and pictures in  the  

window. We stood there looking in and Arnold pointed to a picture called ‘The Soul’s Awakening’ It was of a girl holding a book and looking up with beautiful eyes full of feeling. He asked me if it reminded me of anyone.

I looked long at the picture and replied, “No - I did not recall a face like that.”

He said, “Honestly - its like Tiny.”

Although I was barely sixteen I knew that he was in love with her and sorrow entered my heart and I put my arm through his and led him away. My elder brother who was Tiny’s husband was expected home any day - coming from Australia and she was staying at her brother’s house somewhere down the Grey’s Inn Road. As we turned the corner there stood a small donkey and cart which was loaded up with boxes - quite a load it appeared and I stopped and said, “Look - Arnold - that poor animal can’t carry all that?”

“You can’t interfere with other people’s belongings,” he said quickly picking some boxes off.

Then suddenly a man appeared.

“Hey - missie - don’t ye worry - me old Joseph ain’t a Donna to ‘a’ ‘arm done to ‘it. Them’s all empty cardboard boxes - e’s light as a snowdrift - no ‘arm’s ever groin’ to come to ‘it an’ don’t you fear.’ He made a clucking noise and the little animal galloped along as though he were enjoying it all.