'If I’m away, my extraordinary brother is the one I miss the most'

For the rest of us life has got more and more complicated because we tend to look ahead all the time

We all went to the same primary school, because Mum wanted Jono to have a mainstream education. There was an incredible amount of love and support for him there, but as the gap between him and his friends widened she moved him to a special school. She wanted him to have a nice life and to be happy. And I think that’s exactly how things have turned out for Jono, while for the rest of us life has got more and more complicated because we tend to look ahead all the time. I’ve just finished editing a recording.

I’ve concerts coming up, including preparing for the Proms and an American tour, so there’s a lot of pressure. I still have problems with my nerves before debuts.

I wear myself out and I do take it out on my mum sometimes. But Jono has retained this extraordinary childlike nature. I don’t think I’ve met a happier person, partly because he does what he wants all the time.

Jono has two main hobbies: he writes stories and he dances to his music. A friend said recently: “I’m very jealous of Jonathan, because he can just get up in the morning and dance.” He’s not particularly rhythmic, but the sheer joy and abandonment in the way he moves is awesome. I don’t think he has any self-consciousness at all. He has a girlfriend, but where that will lead I don’t know, because we don’t really discuss that kind of thing. I’m always amazed other families do.

He goes to college a couple of days a week, and attends a programme run by the Salvation Army, but otherwise his time is his own. I really envy the way he’s able to get excited over small things that don’t interest me any more; that and his astonishing talent for sleeping. He’s asleep within 30 seconds. I feel guilty when I’m not practising, so I tend to drag it out all day and cram everything else into the evening; then my mind is so overstimulated I’m awake for hours.

Mum started me on the piano at six because she teaches it, but I wasn’t interested until I was about eight and even then I didn’t have much talent for it. But then there was a sudden burst. Mum would give me a Chopin waltz and I’d learn it far quicker than her adult pupils and express more emotion.

Mainstream school ended for me at 11, when I had to learn the repertoire for BBC Young Musician of the Year. Mum knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in GCSEs with my practice schedule. And it was pointless, because I was only interested in music. In the end I skipped GCSEs and started studying for A-levels at home when I was 14. I didn’t have any close friends until I started at the Royal Academy and I still don’t have a wide circle, but at least they understand me, because they’re pianists and share the pressures.

At home Jono and I are very much thrown together. He is fairly near the top of the Down’s spectrum — his vocabulary is huge — but I don’t really think of him as having Down’s syndrome any more. To me, his main disability is his sight. He’s got a cataract that wasn’t treated when he was a baby, so his brain doesn’t send messages to his eyes to see. He finds it infuriating, and I think it’s this that holds him back more than anything else. He always comes on tour with me, but the thing he likes most is not the music but the food. Last year I played my debut at St George’s, a prestigious venue in Bristol, and got very fed up during the rehearsal.

I ended up running about with Jonathan, which must have looked quite surreal — the concert pianist chasing his brother round the hall. When I go away without him, he’s the person I miss the most, because he brings so much joy. I had a concert in Italy recently, which didn’t go as well as I’d have liked, actually, because I was so nervous. I sort of lost it halfway through, which made me cross with myself. At the airport on the way home I saw a little Down’s boy and I wanted to go up to him and hug him. I thought: “I just want to be home with Jonathan.”

Jonathan (L) and Ben have always been very close (HO)

Jonathan, 21

Ben doesn’t do much. He’s always in, playing on his piano. I don’t know if he’s any good, because I’m always in my room playing pop music. I like Westlife and JLS. I like some girl bands — Pussycat Dolls, Girls Aloud, Sugababes. I want to be a DJ when I’m older. The problem with Ben’s music is it hasn’t got a beat. You can’t dance to it. Mum persuaded Ben to take me to a Led Zeppelin tribute concert, which he said was the worst day of his life and his ears hurt. Then I had to go to a production [of Die Fledermaus]. It wasn’t fun. I didn’t actually watch. I just thought about other things in my head.

I go to all Ben’s concerts — hundreds, too many to count. Sometimes I go to stay with my grandparents, otherwise I’m with Mum backstage. That’s boring, but there are some good things. The food — I like very hot and spicy food, Chinese, Indian — and beer and red wine. I went to Germany with Ben. I didn’t like it there. The coffee was too weak. I didn’t like the Czech Republic either — the food was far too salty. Ben’s a vegetarian, so we have vegetarian food at home, but at my grandparents’ I get meat. Mum doesn’t let me have beef, she says because of mad cow disease, but I think that’s just to scare people. I’m not worried about it. I love beef.

Ben’s a bit obsessed. He can’t stop and I don’t think it’s good for his health. He gets stressed out

I like to write stories; some are about having superpowers. The main character is mainly me. I’m always the same person. Normal human with Down’s syndrome and learning difficulties. It’s my eyes that let me down. I’d like a computer chip in my head to make me see. People always look at me and I don’t like that. But I can hide sadness. I’m good at hiding the pain. I’m getting better at things like maths, and the harder I work, the better it will come. If I could see more I’d go out on my own. Having people with me annoys me; I don’t really need looking after.

One day I’d like to have my own house in Chelmsford, because my girlfriend lives there. But Ben will always be my friend. He’s a nice boy, he’s all right.

We did silly things when we were younger. We used to have laser guns and light sabres and played Star Wars. He made up all the games. But if he tries to tell me what to do now it annoys me, so I ignore him. I’m 21 and he’s 18 — it’s supposed to be the other way round.

I don’t like sharing a room with Ben, because I think I should have my own. He always keeps me awake with his piano — an electronic one he plays. It like he’s trying to do a concert from his bed. He’s a bit obsessed. He can’t stop and I don’t think it’s good for his health. He gets stressed out. He’s got a cough now.

When I dance, I just like to do my own thing. I don’t like to practise too much, because that causes stress, and my friend Paul says getting stressed causes heart attacks. Even when Benjamin isn’t practising on his piano, he’s doing it in his head, I can tell. People are interested in Benjamin. They cheer and want to talk to him. After a concert they come up to him and say “Hell-ooo” very politely, and want him to sign programmes. He’s famous, but he’s not really well known, not like Westlife. They’re advertised on billboards, and Benjamin isn’t. So he’s probably got quite a long way to go.

Benjamin plays Liszt at the Royal Albert Hall on Friday July 15, and Britten on Saturday August 6