Martin glowed with pleasure. It seemed as if a load had fallen away from his shoulders. “I’ve never had a chance till now,” he said, “I’ll make good. You see if I don’t!”

“Mother! Can we go and stay on Kirrin Island and watch the tower being taken down tomorrow?” begged George. “Do say yes! And can we stay there a whole week? We can sleep in that little room as we did before.”

“Well — I suppose you can!” said her mother, smiling at George’s eager face. “I’d rather like to have your father to myself for a few days and feed him up a bit.”

“Oh — that reminds me, Fanny,” said her husband, suddenly. “I tried some soup you left for me, the night before last. And my dear, it was horrible! Quite bad!”

“Oh Quentin! I told you to pour it away! You know I did,” said his wife, distressed. “It must have been completely bad. You really are dreadful.”

They all finished their breakfast at last, and went out into the garden. They looked across Kirrin Bay to Kirrin Island. It looked lovely in the morning sun.

“We’ve had a lot of adventures together,” said Julian. “More than most children. They have been exciting, haven’t they?”

Yes — they have, but now we must say good-bye to the Five, and to Kirrin Island too. Good-bye, Julian, Dick, George, Anne — and Timmy. But only Timmy hears our good-bye, for he has such sharp ears.

THE END

ENID BLYTON (London, United Kingdom, 11th August 1897 - London, 28th November 1968). Enid Mary Blyton was born on 11th August 1897 at 354 Lordship Lane, a two-bedroom flat above a shop in East Dulwich, South London. Shortly after her birth her parents moved to Beckenham in Kent and it was there, in a number of different houses over the years, that Enid Blyton spent her childhood. She had two younger brothers — Hanly, born in 1899, and Carey, born in 1902.

ENID AND HER FATHER, THOMAS CAREY BLYTON

Enid’s father, Thomas, was a cutlery salesman as a young man. He then joined his uncle’s firm selling Yorkshire cloth and, later still, set up his own business as a clothing wholesaler. He and his daughter had a close, loving relationship — both had dark hair and alert brown eyes, and shared an appetite for knowledge and a zest for life. Together they enjoyed nature rambles, gardening, the theatre, art, music and literature. When Enid had whooping cough as a baby, and was not expected to live till morning, her father refused to accept the doctor’s opinion and sat up all night with her, cradling her and willing her to survive.

Enid learnt a lot from her father, especially about nature. In her autobiography, The Story of My Life (1952), she wrote:

“...my father loved the countryside, loved flowers and birds and wild animals, and knew more about them than anyone I had ever met. And what was more he was willing to take me with him on his expeditions, and share his love and his knowledge with me!”