A Place for Five

Before the Skylock Sisters had rescue machines, they had a very wobbly cardboard castle.

But first, they had to find each other.

Harbour House stood near the sea. Caring adults made meals, read stories and helped the children through difficult days. Even in a kind place, it was possible to feel lonely.

Astra watched the rain. Cleo tried a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Juno had a question but wasn't sure whom to ask. Marin held her sketchbook close. Pip studied the spaces between everyone.

Then a drop of rain slipped through the window and landed on Cleo's nose.

“Excellent,” she said. “The weather has found me indoors.”

Juno giggled. Pip giggled at Juno giggling. It wasn't a great big beginning. Just one small laugh, with room for another.

That afternoon, a carer brought an empty box into the playroom.

“A delivery for the kingdom of Somewhere,” announced Cleo.

Juno suggested wheels. Astra suggested a roof. Pip drew five rooms, with winding paths between them.

Marin drew a crab in the moat.

“Is the crab friendly?” Pip asked.

“Only if you knock.”

They worked together until the cardboard roof sagged onto Astra's head.

“Your Majesty,” Cleo said, “your castle is wearing you.”

This time even Astra laughed.

They tried a smaller roof and moved the box beside the reading corner. There wasn't space for five girls inside. So they opened one side and spread cushions around it.

Can you imagine a castle with a living room outside?

Theirs had five cushions, one paper crab and absolutely no sensible building regulations.

Pip put a paper star above each cushion. When Marin went quiet, nobody pulled her into the middle.

Astra slid a cushion a little nearer.

“You can sit here when you want.”

Marin did.

Some days the girls played together. Some days one needed a carer's help, or a quiet corner, or a good cry. Friendship didn't make every worry disappear. It meant a worry didn't always have to be carried alone.

One evening, Pip unfolded her map of five little houses.

“They're our beds,” she explained. “The paths are so we can find each other.”

Juno added a bridge.

Cleo added a hat shop.

Marin added a tiny crab, because maps could always be improved by crabs.

Astra drew a bench halfway along the path.

“For resting,” she said.

Felix and Vivienne Vale began visiting Harbour House. The girls got to know them slowly.

Felix had a huge laugh and once spent ten minutes looking for the glasses on his head.

Vivienne noticed when somebody wanted to talk, and when somebody wanted her simply to stay nearby.

They joined games, shared meals and listened to questions. Sometimes they didn't know the answer.

“Can grown-ups say that?” Juno asked.

“Frequently,” said Felix. “Especially when asked where they've put their glasses.”

There were many visits and plenty of time to talk with the adults who cared for the girls.

The castle eventually became a bookshop, then a spaceship, then recycling.

The friendships stayed.

So did Felix and Vivienne, turning up again, keeping promises, getting to know all five girls as themselves.

In time, with the grown-ups helping everybody understand what would happen, Felix and Vivienne adopted all five girls together.

They would be a family.

Cleo asked whether she could bring her funny hat. Juno asked about her music box. Marin wanted her sketchbooks. Pip held up the map.

“All welcome,” said Vivienne.

Astra had a quieter question.

“What if we have a bad day?”

“Then we'll be your family on a bad day,” Felix said.

“What if we don't know what we want to be?”

“Still your family,” said Vivienne.

There wasn't a test to pass. Nobody had to be clever, cheerful or useful to earn their place.

The girls could miss Harbour House and look forward to Skylock House at the same time.

Two feelings could share one heart.

Moving day came with boxes, hugs and a rather serious argument about whether a cardboard crab needed its own seat.

At Skylock House, the sea shone below the windows. The rooms felt enormous. The kitchen smelled of toast.

Felix opened a cupboard for plates and discovered his missing mug.

“A successful expedition!” he declared.

They ate together. Later, when Cleo's new bedroom felt too big, her sisters brought blankets.

Much better.

What little thing makes a place feel like home to you?

For the girls, that evening, it was five blankets, familiar giggles and Vivienne asking whether anyone wanted another story.

Their daring rescues would come years later, after learning and practice.

But their biggest beginning was already here.

Five girls. Two loving parents.

Room for every one of them.