It was gone midday on the Sunday when Philip resurfaced. He was feeling rather sheepish about the whole altercation with Peter the night before and so was rather nervous about seeing him in broad daylight. He crept down the stairs and went into the living room where he saw Michelle and Clare sitting cross legged in front of the TV with console controls in their laps.

He squinted at the screen, trying to work out exactly what was going on. A car weaved in and out of traffic then smashed into a wall. An air ambulance helicopter swooped down and landed on the tarmac, little figures running out to scrape up splat marks before the words GAME OVER spiralled into view. To think it didn’t seem that long ago when Shirley was worrying if Tom and Jerry was too violent for the kids to watch.

“Ha! My turn again, loser. Pass the game pad over,” demanded Michelle of her older sister.

Clare relinquished the controller pad with bad grace then noticed her uncle watching them. “Morning, Uncle Philip. Want a go?”

“Hmm, no thanks. What’s the point of the game anyway?” Philip was stumped, he just couldn’t work it out.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “I think it’s actually illegal for anyone as old as you to understand it.”

“Gee thanks.” Philip mimed being mortally wounded. Him being ancient and out of touch was a running gag between them all, and he took perverse pleasure in playing up to it.

Michelle grinned to show she didn’t mean it personally, that was just the way things were, then frowned. “Uncle Philip, what’s going on with Mum and Dad?”

He immediately stopped clowning around and sat down. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Dad’s supposed to be away on some training course, right? But he’s back… and …” she looked at her sister for support.

“What she’s trying to say is that we heard raised voices last night. Is everything okay? Is Mum okay?” Clare finished.

Philip winced. What did he tell them? It was hardly fair to drag them into all this, and not his place to involve them anyway. Explanations was Peter’s job, in his opinion. “Everything will be fine. Where is your dad anyway?” He frowned. Had Peter left again or was he still in bed?

“He’s sitting in the kitchen moping over a cold cup of coffee.” Clare informed him. “Also… I think he got in a bit of a fight? Anyway, we thought it best if we just kept out of his way today.”

“Probably very wise. I tell you what, I’ll go in and talk to him for a bit.” He felt a bit guilty seeing the instant relief on the girls’ faces. If only a quick chat would magically fix everything. He strongly suspected, however, that it would take much more than that to put things right.

He watched them renew their interest in the console game, amiably bickering over the best tactics to get to “the boss” whatever that meant, took a deep breath and went to find his brother. He could put it off no longer.

He walked into the kitchen to discover that Clare had accurately described her father’s state. Peter did indeed look rather sorry for himself hunched up on the kitchen stool over a mug of something insipid, his nose looking puffy and sore. Philip winced, acknowledging his part in that and pulled up a stool of his own. “Hey.”

The eyes that were lifted up to meet Philip’s were filled with misery and pain.

“Have you got any sleep yet?” Philip queried gently.

Peter shook his head wearily. “No, I want to be here if she turns up or telephones. I don’t think I could sleep anyway. I need to know she’s all right first.”

Laying his hand on Peter’s arm, his brother tried to talk him round. “Look, your kids are worried about you, and frankly so am I. You’re in no state to talk with her if she did show up. Go upstairs and get some sleep. If she calls or turns up I promise I will wake you immediately.”

“And if I don’t? What will you do? Punch me again?” Peter’s voice verged on pitiful whine.

“Um yeah… about last night. I’m sorry about all that.” Philip waved dismissively in the direction of his brother’s battered nose. “I sort of got a bit over zealous.”

Peter sighed. “Don’t worry, I probably deserved it. You’re probably right, I could do with some rest. You will wake me as soon as she comes back?”

“Yes, I said I promised. I always keep my promises, you know that…”

The sound of the front door closing made both of the men start and look up. They heard a muffled voice then loud cries of “Mum, you’re back!” Peter paled.

“Come on. It’s now or never.” Philip said, forcing himself to be cheerful. “It’ll be fine. Go with lots of grovelling, it’s a time honoured tradition.” He half dragged, half pushed his brother out through the door to face the music.

Following him meant walking into possibly the most awkward situation he had ever faced. The silence was more than oppressive it was suffocating. He breathed a sigh of relief when finally Shirley broke that silence.

“Philip! Thank you so much for looking after the girls while I was away.” He noticed that she looked almost as tired as her husband. She looked strong though, and determined. He knew then that Shirley wasn’t going to get walked over, that if anything this might be the turning point for her – an opportunity for her to regain some control over her own life. He reflected that it was probably long overdue.

Shirley turned her attention to her husband. “Peter.” The icy silence returned.

“Right. I promised the girls a trip out to the park this afternoon to feed the ducks. Get your coats on! We don’t want to miss the best of the weather.” He tried to ignore their protestations of surprise as he had promised no such thing.

“Um, Uncle Philip, it’s raining.” Michelle pointed out.

“And we’re not three years old anymore,” added Clare.

“Okay. Too old for ducks. Cinema? How does the cinema sound? Have you seen that Matrix sequel yet? We could go see that.” Philip was aware he was turning into a babbling idiot, but he was fairly certain he’d outstayed his welcome. He was also fairly certain that Michelle and Clare would be a lot better off out of the house while their Mum and Dad had a talk.

Shirley protested. “Philip, that’s very kind, but you really don’t have to…”

“No, no, that’s quite all right. I insist, in fact. Come on, hurry up we don’t want to miss the matinee. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll come and help you find your shoes,” and with that he managed to bustle them out the door in super quick time leaving Shirley and Peter to sort out their differences themselves. He only hoped Peter didn’t screw things up even more.

Once outside, his overwhelming need to fill every silence evaporated and he was lost in his own thoughts when Clare interrupted them.

“Mum’s going to leave, isn’t she?”

Philip was shocked. He knew they were a little worried about the atmosphere in the house, but had hoped he had been able to shield them from the worst of it. “Oh, I don’t know about that, I’m sure everything will come out in the wash,” he said feebly.

Clare’s stern look proved that she didn’t believe him for one moment. “Was there someone else?”

“Look.” Philip stopped in his tracks, the rain cascading off his hood and running down his face. “I really think this is something you should be discussing with your parents. None of this is really my business, and…” he tailed off, not sure how to continue.

“So, there was someone else involved then,” said Michelle simply.

Philip didn’t know how to reply, so chose to just shrug enigmatically as an alternative.

“Well, it’s no good standing here. Do you want to take us to this film or not? I want a big pot of popcorn, I do hope you’ve brought enough money for popcorn too.” She glared at Philip. He wasn’t totally sure if she was more cross with him for not telling them all the gory details, or for being under suspicion of promising something he couldn’t deliver.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of money for popcorn, cokes, ice creams, whatever.” He reassured them. “So let’s get moving, shall we?” On a whim, he pulled both girls in for a tight hug, wishing that all their fears could easily be eradicated by a trip out combined with junk food. Why did life have to be so complicated? Surprisingly, they didn’t pull away. Maybe they weren’t too old for hugs at least.

He walked them home after the film feeling older than he ever had before, and they weren’t even ribbing him about it. He, quite frankly, hadn’t understood most of the film, although he strongly suspected it might have helped had he seen the other two parts to the story first. Next time he was going to insist they went and saw a cheery kids cartoon instead. Maybe Disney. No, Disney was gruesome and depressing too. Something with parachuting bunnies, that would be pleasant distraction.

The girls let themselves in the front door and Philip followed them in, half out of curiosity, half out of a desire to make sure they weren’t walking in to a major domestic. He found Peter sitting watching the news in the living room, looking rather pale.

“How did it all go? Where’s Shirley?”

“She’s upstairs, packing some things together to take to her mother’s house,” Peter replied morosely. “She wants some ‘space’ and ‘time to think things through’ or something like that anyway.”

“I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Philip hated seeing his brother like this. He was usually the commanding one, the one with all the answers. It was almost as if he had just given up.

Peter met his brother’s eyes at last. “No. Thanks though. Especially for taking Michelle and Clare out for a while, that really helped.”

“Yeah, well. I think one of you is going to have to talk to them sooner rather than later. Both of them are very worried and not a little scared about the situation. A little bit of reassurance will probably go a long way.”

Peter sighed. “There’s not a lot left to reassure them about.”

“Yes there is. You both love them and will still be there for them no matter what happens between you and Shirley. They need to be told that.”

“Well, aren’t you just the amateur psychologist all of a sudden?” Peter snapped. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I will have a talk with them a bit later on.”

“I really ought to get back now. I’ve got an early start in the morning. I will stay though, if you want me here.” Philip couldn’t see how he’d be any use, but at least he owed his brother that, even if Peter was an idiot he was still family.

“No, go. We’ll be fine.”

It was dark by the time Philip got back home, and the rain was stronger now, further reducing his visibility. He was looking forward to getting into the warmth and solitude of his flat, hoping for a quiet night with a beer and the TV remote for a spot of channel surfing. It wasn’t until the figure just outside came up close that he realised it was that troublemaker, Ben.

“Hey, I thought I told you to get lost and stop bothering Sarah?” Philip said angrily. He didn’t need this now, he’d had enough conflict this weekend to last him for a good while.

“I don’t know what Sarah has told you,” sneered Ben, all attempts at charming persuasion gone, “but I’m warning you to stay away. We have a long history, me and her, and I’m not going to let you get in the way.”

“Don’t you think that’s rather up to her to decide?” Philip queried, wishing the conversation was over already.

He didn’t see the knife until it was too late. A sudden glimpse of steel, searing pain through his midriff, a twist, then thankfully blackness. Rain mingled with the puddles of blood sending red rivulets into the gutter. Fleeing footsteps echoed into the night.