Remembering a family

The father is large and ginger. All the children are ginger apart from the eldest who is blonde. They are unusual because they have 5 brothers, noone else on the street has more than 1 brother or sister. Their mother is really small and dark. She is quiet and petite and scurries around the house. She doesn't talk much and she doesn't seem to want me to come round. The father is loud and scary. He never shouts at me but sometimes you hear him shouting at his children. He bellows and his hair stands on end like it is on fire. We don't go round to their house much because the mother seems to hurry us out again; the father terrifies us even when he is smiling, they never give you any biscuits, at our house we always get biscuits and we have a den (the garage) at our house. We play cowboys and indians and the girl next door is always the hostage. She gets locked in the garage and we go and play on the field. I wonder if we were gone for a long time on our adventures. She would still be waiting in the garage. She is called Jillian but we call her Jilly Bean.