Toby’s House

Toby again. It was always about Toby. Toby, Toby, Toby. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t.

Esther climbed up the ladder and into the tree house. Even this place, even this was Toby’s. Toby’s House it said on the outside. Well, no one would notice if she was there or not, so she might as well come here. 

Dad had built it before Toby had been born. “I always wanted a tree-house when I was a boy,” he’d said, yet he’d never built a tree house for her. 

“I’m sure he’ll let you play in it when he’s older,” mum had said. Yet he’d never said any such thing, never been asked if he minded his big sister playing in his tree house.

Esther had been so looking forward to being a big sister, having someone to play with all the time, yet when Toby arrived, he’d been so small and helpless. Not much fun at all. And all that crying. Who would have thought that such a small thing could make so much noise? And the smell.

Toby and his crying took all of mummy’s time, and if he was asleep, she was too tired for her daughter. And daddy had to work extra so that mummy could stay off work, so there was no nursery to go to, no friends to play with. “Never mind,” they’d said, “at least you’ll be able to play with your brother soon.”

Except that she never had played with him, not properly. At last she went to school, and found that she could have friends again, and that was good. And some of them had little brothers or sisters too, and they managed to play with them. But she still wasn’t allowed to play with Toby.

And today, it wasn’t even his birthday, yet still it was a day that was all about him. And it was her birthday in a couple of weeks, and no one, not mum, not dad, not even her grandparents, had asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She somehow knew that there would be no party. Last year’s party had been cancelled at the last minute, and all because of Toby. Because of him, she’d had to miss out. It was so unfair.

Esther sat in the tree house, back against the wall. She looked down at her socks and saw that she’d managed to get them dirty climbing the ladder. Mum would be cross, but at the moment, she didn’t care. At least it might get her noticed. But she doubted it.

The heat outside made it stuffy in here with the door closed. The house needed a hook outside so that the door could be kept open when it was too hot. And it needed cleaning; there were too many spiders in here. She looked down at the wooden floor. If this were her house, she’d put something down on the floor for a carpet, she thought. An old rug, or an old blanket. Something to sit on. If this were her house, she’d have things inside it to play with, things that were special to the tree house, just so that she could pretend it was hers. If this were her house…

But it wasn’t her house. It was Toby’s. And he’d never come to play here, never really played with her, so she came here when she needed to escape from the world that was Toby. Like today.

“You ought to do that.” She looked up, and there was Toby sitting in the opposite corner.

“Do what?” Esther was thinking how dare he come up here, but then realising she was the one that was trespassing.

“Make it nice up here. Get a blanket, some toys. I would if I could.”

“You never even came up here.”

“But I wanted to Essie, you know that.”

She didn’t know any such thing. All she knew was that he hadn’t played with her. “Won’t they be missing you?”

“Who?”

“Everyone. I mean, it’s because of you that everyone’s here today, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know. I saw that there were lots of people, but I just wanted to be quiet, so I came here to find you.” He paused looking round the place. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

Esther wanted to say it had been nice until he’d shown up, but it was his tree house, and she didn’t feel like going back inside. She let it drop.

“What’s happened to me?” Toby asked. “I feel different.”

“Don’t you know?”

“No, I know I just hurt a lot and now I don’t. That’s all.”

Esther sat and thought how she might tell her brother what the problem was but couldn’t quite find the words. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Good that you don’t hurt anymore.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but I sort of feel a bit, I don’t know. A bit like I’m dreaming.”

“Perhaps you are.”

“Well, it’s a good dream then, because I don’t hurt, and I can come here and play with you. I hope I don’t wake up just yet.”

This was Toby on a good day. Happy, chatty, likeable. But it had been so long since Esther had seen that side of him. “I hope you don’t wake up just yet either,” she said sadly.

“It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it? Are you having a party?”

“No, no party this year. After last year I don’t think I’ll ever have a party again.”

“That was my fault, wasn’t it? I’m sorry. It’s just that I was so excited. I’d never been to a party before.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” What was the point in getting angry with him? He hadn’t been able to help it really.

“If you’re not having a party, can we have one here? In the tree house, just us two?”

Silent tears worked their way down Esther’s cheeks as she tried to reply.

“Okay.”

“Great. It would be nice if you came here so I can play with you sometimes.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Oh, it looks like dad’s coming. I don’t think I can be here if he’s here.”

Esther’s dad started climbing the ladder and poked his head through the doorway. “Ah there you are Essie. We wondered where you… Have you been crying?”

Essie said nothing but allowed herself to be swallowed up in her father’s arms as she wept. He allowed her to cry herself out before letting go.

“It’s so un-unfair,” she said. “He wanted to live. He wanted to play. He wanted to be my brother.”

“I know he did, sweetheart. We all wanted that, but there was nothing else they could do.”

“But he’s confused. He doesn’t know where he is.”

“Confused?”

“Yes, he doesn’t realise he’s dead. He doesn’t understand.”

“I’m sure he’ll sort it out soon sweetheart. Now let’s go inside.”

Esther allowed herself to be led down from the tree house. As she reached the bottom step, she saw her father looking up at the painted sign on the tree house. “I think we ought to change that, don’t you? Esther’s House. I mean, it’s you that uses it.”

“No.” Esther suddenly didn’t want it to be her house. It was Toby’s. It would always be Toby’s. “If we rename it, how will Toby know where to come?”

“Okay, Essie, if that’s what you want.”

“But it would be nice if we had a carpet in there.”

“I’ll see if we’ve got an old blanket.”

“And some cushions.”

“I’m sure we can find some cushions somewhere.”

And as they made their way back to the house, a small shadow of a boy watched them go.