Let's Play House

Chapter One

If you were to walk along Green Street, you might think it was a fairly ordinary London suburb. The houses were all in neat little rows, the front lawns were always neat, and hardly anything troubling went on.

But there was one curious thing about that street.

A very curious family lived there.

No one knew where they came from or when they even arrived; they just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They lived at 57 Green Street: the mother, the father, the son, and the uncle. Here is the story of their first extraordinary year in their new London home.

* * * *

"For God's sake, John!" Paul cried as the mountain of cardboard boxes suddenly collapsed. "Can't you be more careful about how you stack those? My best china dishes could have been in there!"

"Hey, don't yell at me!" John snapped, clumsily re-stacking the boxes. "And just be thankful that your silly dishes weren't in the box."

"They're not silly," Paul said indignantly. "They were a special present."

John muttered a very rude word under his breath, grabbed an armful of boxes, and transferred them through the front door of their new London home. Paul sighed heavily and watched him go, then he started rooting through the mountains of cardboard boxes, desperate to find his beloved china plates before John did.

Paul found a box labelled KITCHEN and peeled back the packing tape. He lifted the flaps and to his great delight, there were his precious china plates, unbroken and in pristine condition. Paul pulled one out and examined it from all angles; then he held it up and admired his reflection.

"What are you doing, Paulie?" said a deep voice from behind.

Paul started guiltily, dropping the plate in his surprise. It feel onto the hard concrete path and shattered into tiny fragments. Paul let out a horrified gasp, dropped to his knees and desperately tried to piece the broken piece of crockery back together.

"Don't do that," said the voice. "You'll cut yourself."

Paul glanced up at the one who had spoken. It was Brian, one of John's best friends and most trusted colleagues. He had been a friend of the family for several years now, and he and John were as thick as thieves. Brian lived just a little way down the street and was thrilled to hear that his best friend was going to be moving in a few doors down. He had graciously offered to help the family unpack all of their possessions.

That's what he was doing now. Brian had been lugging the dining room chairs into the appropriate room when he'd noticed Paul digging around in the pile of cardboard boxes, pulling out assorted plates and cups and goodness knows what else. Now one of those plates was lying in pieces at their feet.

"Brian!" Paul cried, glaring up at him. "That was my best china!"

"Sorry, Paul," Brian replied, not sounding at all apologetic. "What were you doing?"

"That's none of your business," Paul retorted.

"Do you need any help?"

"No!" Paul paused for a moment. "Maybe you could help me up?"

Brian smirked, dropped the chair he had been hauling along behind him, and held out a hand. Paul grabbed it and staggered to his feet, wobbling a little as he did so.