My Darling Girl *Disney fanfic*

2. Practically Perfect

Michael was quiet at supper. The children were all sat around the small kitchen table, their elbows knocking together. Nana had prepared for them a small snack of buttered bread with mugs of fresh milk.

"John your glasses are smudged." Wendy leaned over and cleaned them for him. Nana didn't have much to do. Wendy was maternal by nature and she saw to it that her brothers washed their hands before eating and that they ate with good table manners.

"You'll be a fine mother one day." Nana praised her young assistant and Wendy's heart swelled with pride.

"Michael are you sick?" She asked sweetly, seeing that he hadn't eaten much. She brushed aside his floppy hair and touched his forehead. "You don't feel hot," she mused.

"I'm alright, Wendy." He reassured her meekly.

                   Later that evening, the children heard their father return home. Wendy left her room and, leaning over the bannister, she saw the top of her father's head as he crossed the foyer and made a beeline for the study. The door clicked shut behind him and house was left feeling very little altered by the master's presence. She sighed and retreated slowly back. Once, he would have headed upstairs to check in on them. That had been before he'd become the local MP. Now, they barely ever saw him.

                  Michael stood in the middle of the nursery, grasping the leg of his teddy bear, and staring uncertainly at his bed. Crouching down, he pushed a toy train across the carpet. The brightly painted toy rolled across the room and disappeared under the bed. Michael heard the light thud as it knocked into something, coming to a halt. Michael got down onto his belly and stared into the shadowy realm beneath his bed.

The train come rolling back, coming to a rest in front of Michael's face. His baby blue eyes widened.

                  Walking across the hallway, on her way back to her room, Wendy heard crying coming from the bathroom. Her heart pricked with concern and she knocked lightly on the door.

"Michael?" She asked softly. There was no reply. "John?" The lock clicked and the door was pulled open to reveal John.

He'd taken off his glasses and his eyes were red from crying.

"Oh, John."

He sniffed snottily and Wendy pulled her younger brother into a hug, rubbing his back soothingly. "What happened?"

John gestured to his school satchel. It was full of dirt. Wendy saw a worm wriggling and poking out of the loose soil. "Those bullies again," Wendy guessed.

Her kind heart struggled with the anger and feelings of aggression that she harboured for her brother's tormentors. Together, Wendy and John crept quietly down the stairs and made it out to the back garden without being caught. Secrecy was vital, they didn't want their mother to be upset.

They poured away the dirt into the flowerbeds, clearing out the bag, but John's books were ruined. The bullies had defaced the pages by tearing them or scribbling foul things and dirt was still trapped in the bindings. "It's alright. I have some savings, I'll buy you new ones." Wendy promised.

                       Their best efforts done, they snuck back inside and sat down together in Wendy's room – sitting cross-legged on the bed. "You need to face them bravely," Wendy advised.