We were woken by a dragging sound and Bryony shouting, "Mummy, Daddy, he's been!"

As I sleepily asked, "Who's been?" she jumped onto my legs and shouted, "I got lots of presents!"

Emma sat up and said, "Bryony, what time did we say?"

Bryony acquired what I have come to know as her lawyer look and said, "You said when the hand was on the six."

"Which hand?" I said.

"Daddy, that's not 'portant! I've got millions of presents to open!"

Emma turned on the light and looked at the clock. She groaned.

"I don't want to know, do I?" I said.

"It is definitely morning." said Bryony, "I asked."

"Asked who?" I said.

"The Sean." she said.

"Is he out walking Harper at this time?" I said, assuming she had called to him from the window.

"No, I phoned him. I didn't want to wake people up before it was Christmas."

"So you phoned Sean's cottage?"

"I do know the number." she said, "I was meaning to phone Jenny, but he said Jenny was still asleep."

She dragged the pillow case of presents onto the bed and said, "Didn't the babies get anything? I did tell him we had two babies." Before I could answer she was taking presents out and putting them in three piles.

"The babies have pillow cases too." I said.

"Oh." she said, "That's good, cos I got a lot of presents, but they might all be for big girls and not for babies."

She wriggled into the bed between us and took the first present. She felt it all over and shook it. Then she smiled and said, "I know what it is."

"What is it?" I said.

"I'm not telling you. Then it won't be a surprise."

She opened it and took out two toy fairies. "Wow! It's fairies!"

"What did you think it was?" I said.

"I thought it was some sticks for playing Pooh Sticks with." she said.

She felt the next and said, "Book!" When she opened it and found she was right, she said, "Yay! I guessed that one 'mediately!"

She opened the book and said, "Oh, he is so lovely. It's all pitchers of things that live in the garden. See that? That's a woodlouse. I bet that says woodlouse right there."

"It does." I said.

"I love woodlouses." she said. She snuggled up to me and said, "Aren't woodlouses lovely?"

She seemed to have entirely forgotten the other presents. She just looked at her book with a happy smile. After a while, I said, "What else have you got?"

She looked at the presents. "Oh, lots more!" she said. She opened the next one and said, "A cuggly fox! How does he know foxes are one of my most favouritist things?"

"I think he keeps records of what people like." I said.

"Like the govinment?" she said.

"No, he's on our side." I said.

"Open something for the babies." she said.

I opened the first of Patrick's presents, a cuddly aeroplane. "That's for Patrick." I said.

"Look, Patty-Cake!" said Bryony, "That's how you can get to New Zweeland where the Kiwis come from."

"Oooh!" said Patrick.

Emma opened the first one for Frances, a little coat with mice in Victorian dress dancing on the pockets. "That's so pretty!" said Bryony, "You're going to be so beautiful in that!"

She opened the next of her own, a wooden sailing boat. "Daddy, let's go to the lake!" she said.

"Not in the dark." I said.

"Can I try it in the bath?" she pleaded.

I took her into the bathroom and half filled the bath. She reverently put the boat on the water and said, "It floats! Look, Daddy!"

When I was her age, Ganpa Ronan had given me a boat just like it, with much the same result. "Where's it going to sail to?" I said.

She smiled and said, "Everywhere."

When we went back to the others, she said, "I don't know what else can be here. I've got nearly everything in the world!"

She opened a smaller present then and just stared at her new necklace. "How did he do that?"

"Do what?" I said.

"It's like a necklace, but it's my name! Look!"

I took it. "It does say Bryony."

"He must have made it just for me." she said.

"You must have been very good." I said.

"When?" she said, "I don't remember being really good."

As she pressed on with opening presents, I looked at Emma and smiled and she leant over and whispered, "I think she's happy."

"Are you kissing?" said Bryony, looking up.

"No." said Emma.

"Well why not? It's Christmas! Don't make me get the missytoe!"

Faced with a threat like that, we kissed and Bryony nodded her approval and then said, "Oh wow! I got a million crayons!"

I don't remember it being so hard last year to convince Bryony to sleep. She's spent most of tonight asking me how many hours now to Christmas.

Emma and Ana have been making trifle and pavlova and lots of other wonderful things, just in case Ravensmoore's vast array of foods need back-up. Mostly, Emma is keeping busy to avoid going into one of her extended worrying sessions when she frets that the kids will hate everything we give them and won't have any fun. I told her, any kid who can't have fun at Whiteturrets on Christmas Day with snow on the ground is beyond all hope.

Kerey's father arrived shortly after a letter from Emma's legal team. They made a breakthrough, with information from a detective they hired. It seems there was a witness who wondered why he wasn't asked what happened and who named a completely different man. So when Dan Patrin arrived, Emma gave Kerey the job of telling him that he doesn't have to return to the prison. He's officially now on parole pending an appeal. Hopefully, he'll never see another prison cell.

Bryony and Jenny are so full of pride about their playgroup nativity last Tuesday. Jenny was a serene and lovely Mary and Bryony was very convincing as a sheep. Their little friend Emily was an angel and her only deviation from the script was when one of the wise men didn't want to hand over his gift and she said, "Give them the frankelsense or you will get such a slap!"

"Golden frankelsense." said Bryony in a whisper.

"Yeah, that." said the angel.

To which the wise man replied, "What's the matter? You got holly in your knickers?"

At this point, the Blessed Virgin Mary smiled a saintly smile and whispered, "You give it me, Johnny Beck. My Daddy beat your Daddy at foopball."

Seeing himself under threat from Gabriel, Fluffy the sheep and herself, the wise man wisely backed down and said, "I bring franklincense."

I'm proud of the way Bryony performed. I'm even more proud of the fact that there wasn't a shred of envy towards Jenny and Emily. She just tried to be the best sheep she could. She's watched sheep a lot, so she did it very well. After the play, she came to me and said, "Was it good, Daddy?" and I said, "It was perfect, especially the sheep and Mary and the angel."

She's loving this Christmas, every moment of it. Even tonight, just before she finally went to sleep, she looked around the "Christmas declarations" in her room and said, "Christmas is the best time, because it's all sparkly."

I made Emma laugh earlier with my impression of the nativity's innkeeper, a little boy who, having told them there was no room left and hearing Joseph complain, said, "Well, what do you expect? It's Christmas!"

I was trying to get back to sleep after an early morning nappy attack when I felt someone tugging on my collar.

"Daddy, are you awake?" said Bryony.

"Forever, it seems." I said, "What's wrong?"

"Is it nearly Christmas now?" she said.

"Five more days." I said.

"Five? Is that including today?"

I looked at the clock. "Bryony, it's only four o'clock. My brain switches on at seven."

"But I'm worried." she said, "What if I count it wrong and miss Christmas?"

I got up. There was no point in trying to sleep and if Bryony has inherited the worrying gene from her mother, I don't want to do anything to kick off the "don't bother Rory with it" one.

I took her hand and took her to her room. "Have you opened your next window on the advent calendar?" I said.

She shook her head.

Can you see twenty?" I said.

"Twenty?" she said. Tears of frustration filled her eyes. "You said FIVE! You promised!"

"No, no, no, no, no." I said, "Can you see the window that says twenty? What makes twenty?"

"Fingers and toes." she said, wiping her eye.

"What numbers?" I said.

"Ten and then another ten." she said.

"Clever girl." I said, "But what numbers do we write for twenty?"

"Don't you know?" she said.

"Two and oh." I said.

"That's right." she said.

I sighed, feeling old and cold and tired and wishing that Bryony at least came with a snooze button. "Can you find the right window?" I said.

She pointed at it. "That one."

"Open it, then." I said.

She did. "It's an angel! I like angels, they have hats made of sparkles."

"Now, look at the doors left. We've got 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th and 25th. The 25th is Christmas."

"That's lots of doors, Daddy." she said.

"You've opened twenty now. That means you've waited four times as long as you need to wait now."

"But I hate waiting." she said, "I want to give everyone presents. I want to see if I get any presents."

"You'll get lots of presents." I said.

"Scott says if you're bad, Santa gives you a bag of slugs and snails."

"But you're not bad." I said.

"I know," she said, "So I'll get something even cooler. Like two bags of slugs and snails!"

Last night, after Bryony's bedtime story, she said, "Listen, Daddy, I'm going to sing a song." and then sang "Away in a Manger" She seems to have got over her initial certainty that it is "A Whale in a Manger".

As she sang it, all the Christmases of my life seemed to come back to me. I remembered so many times filled with love and excitement and the sheer awe of knowing what Christmas meant. Looking at her, I hoped that she would never become cynical about Christmas and never let all the bustle and rush make her forget that Christmas, and indeed, life, is about love.

When she finished singing, she waited for me to say what I thought. I kissed her and said, "You sang that beautifully."

She smiled. She gave Emma and me a quick hug and then settled down to sleep. We were just leaving the room when she said softly, "Can I sing it for the babies tomorrow?"

"Yes," said Emma, "They'd love that."

We went to our room to check on the twins and found them, as usual, cuddled up together, smiling in their sleep. I took Emma's hand and said, "Have you ever noticed that life just keeps getting better?"

She kissed me and said, "Every day."

Last night, Emma and I were in the drawing room after putting the kids to bed. Suddenly we heard footsteps running along upstairs.

I went out to the hall and called out, "Bryony, what are you doing?"

"Sleeping, Daddy!" she said.

"Then who's running?" I said.

She came to the stairs. "Well, I'm nearly asleep."

"Try it in bed. It's easier." I said.

"Jenny betted me I couldn't run up and down fifty times." she said.

"Jenny wins. The floor can't take it." I said, "Besides, we don't ever bet."

"You do, with the Sean and Uncle Kevan." she said.

"Yes, and Mummy tells me off for it." I said.

She came down the stairs. "Daddy, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did." I said.

"No I didn't. Daddy, why is Christmas so far away?"

"It's not far away at all, not really." I said.

"I made cards for you and Mummy and I want you to have them." she said.

"It's not long to wait now." I said.

"I did a letter to Father Christmas. Do you think he got it?"

"I'm sure he did."

"I worry that he'll come down the wrong chimbley and think I'm not here."

"He found you last year." I said.

"I told him about the twins, just in case he doesn't know they were born."

"That was kind of you." I said.

"Do you think Father Christmas ever runs out of presents?" she said.

"No, and if he did, he'd make sure you got yours first." I said.

"He wouldn't." she said, she drew me down so she could whisper, "I told him, if there's not enough, he can give mine to the poor children."

I picked her up and said, "Well, he never runs out, and I'm sure he'll give you something wonderful for being so kind."

"He's a bit like you, isn't he, Daddy?"

"Old and with no fashion sense?" I said.

She hugged me. "No, kind and cuggly!"

"You're kind and cuggly too." I said.

"Are we having a party again, like last year?"

"Yes." I said.

"And is he coming?"

"He said he would."

"We have to make him stay until Uncle Ravensmoore can see him. Last year, he went before Uncle Ravensmoore came in."

"I think he went to Uncle Ravensmoore's cottage later." I said.

"I wanted to see Uncle Ravensmoore get a present." she said.

"Maybe you could take a present for him, if he's busy."

"It's not the same, is it?" she said.

She yawned. "You're tired." I said.

"Only my face. Most of me's not tired."

"You need to go to bed." I said.

"Can I have a story?"

"After the story, do you promise to go to sleep?"

"I always sleep 'ventually." she said.

Three fairy tales later, she was sleeping with her arm tightly around her kiwi. I went back to Emma. "I sent her straight back to bed."

"An hour ago." said Emma.

"She needed a story." I said.

"She doesn't get enough sleep." she said.

"Her mind's too active. She thinks too much. Takes after another insomniac of my acquaintance."

"Do you think we should be worried?" said Emma.

"Yeah, a bit of irrational panic always helps."

I sat beside her and said, "Emma, we have a happy, healthy little girl. Why worry over little things?"

"What if lack of sleep stunts her growth?"

"She's growing well. The only thing her lack of sleep is going to do is keep us awake."

"I know you think I worry too much." she said.

"You're a good mother. You just need to relax." I said.

"She could grow up just like me." she said.

I kissed her. "I'm praying for it every night."