"Have they discovered the hidey-place yet?" Father asked.

"Nope," his wife replied. "Eight years and they've never thought to look in our wardrobe for their presents."

"We don't know that for sure," Father said. "Perhaps they found them years ago and never told us so that we wouldn't hide them somewhere else."

"I would know," said his wife, with serene confidence.

"I suppose you'll be away again Christmas night?" his wife said.

"I've told you before. Over Christmas there are a number of jobs at the factory and it's in my contract that I have to do them."

"I know. Sometimes I just wonder if you're going to surprise me one Christmas. But I'm not complaining."

Christmas Eve. The two nine-year olds, with a certain air of solemnity, walked from the kitchen. Sarah was holding the carrot and the mince-pie and Andrew reverently held the glass of sherry.

"You know what to do Andrew. Sarah." Father said, smiling to Mother.

They nodded, but exchanged conspiratorial looks. As every year they set out the sherry and the mince-pie on a plate, ready for Father Christmas to drink and eat. And they left the carrot on the window sill so that the reindeer would have something to munch on. In the morning, as always, they would find the sherry gone, a few crumbs left of the mince-pie and only the end of the carrot. Proof that Father Christmas had visited.

"What are you two up to?" Father asked.

The two looked at each other, and Andrew somehow became appointed spokesperson.

"We know who Father Christmas is."

"What do you mean 'who he is'? He's Father Christmas."

"The other kids in school say it's you."

"Me?" Father asked.

"Yes. Father Christmas doesn't really exist. You pretend."

"Well, perhaps I do in a way. I admit it. I am Father Christmas. But has it occurred to you that I might really be Father Christmas? Everybody's Father Christmas? That after I put your presents out I go to a secret shed at the bottom of the garden, get everybody else's presents into my sleigh and - while you're asleep - fly around delivering them?"

"That's silly," Sarah and Andrew said.

Father looked over at Mother who smiled indulgently.

"You've never seen me on Christmas Day," Father reminded them.

"That's because you work in the factory."

"Maybe that's just what I tell you." Father's eyes twinkled.

"I think I've still got them guessing," Father said as he pulled on his overcoat and kissed his wife goodbye that evening.

"You even had me fooled," she said, laughing, as she waved him off.

And with her husband safely away, and the children asleep in the room next to their grandparents, Mother donned her uniform and slipped away to the shed at the bottom of the garden.

"I suppose if I choose to hide my face behind a bushy white beard," Mother mused to herself, "it's only natural people have come to assume I'm a man."