26
The house, while never cheery, was even lonelier after their brother was gone. Their imaginary worlds had one less citizen. And even though they fought more. They fought quietly and there was less noise overall than ever before. The sisters’ voices would get swallowed up in the empty air where the fourth sibling used to be. Elly began to communicate only through written notes on scraps of paper, especially when the coughing was bad.
They all coughed. Bran had coughed, until he finally stopped. The sisters hadn’t stopped yet, so nothing else would stop them either.
Actia drew a picture of their brother in ink, surrounded by his sisters. But she got his nose wrong and scribbled him out in a dark column, right between Elly and Lottie. She pinned the picture up in the playroom that they were too old to play in and years began to slip away.
The picture was where Lottie first got her grand idea. It was an easy thing for someone to disappear, but the space where the person had been remained. So too did the space their brother had been meant to occupy as a man. Bran’s future had been provided for. Father had made arrangements, lessons and lodging in London, a good life for a young man with artistic promise.