December 25, 1923
"DADDY!" The gleeful cry was the only warning Christopher Foyle had before a small body landed on top of him. He squinted at the alarm clock through the darkness and then let his head fall back on the pillow, closing his eyes with a low groan; it was only just five in the morning.
"Daddy?" It was a stage whisper followed almost immediately but a small finger poking his cheek, "Daddy wake up! Father Christmas comed!"
He opened his eyes obediently and felt his grumpiness disappear at the sight of his little boy's beaming face, "Andrew it's very early."
"Uh huh" The little boy nodded but didn't seem to see how this could possibly be a problem.
Foyle groaned again and turned his head to where Rosalind was burrowed under the covers. He knew she was awake 'honestly who could have slept through Andrew's arrival? Hugh possibly…' but she evidently wasn't ready to get up yet if it was possible.
"Daddy can we get up now?" Andrew asked, squirming impatiently as he sat on top of his father.
Knowing to was pointless and probably foolish to delay any longer, 'doubt Andrew remembered to use the lavatory…' Foyle nodded and lifted Andrew off the bed so he could sit up. "Yup, lavatory first and then we'll go and make Mummy some tea."
"Then presents?" Andrew asked eagerly, completely forgetting to 'whisper.'
"Your stocking yes, presents once Mummy and I have had tea."
"Why?" Rosalind heard Andrew asking as Christopher herded him out of the room and had to muffle her laughter in her pillow as she caught Christopher's reply just before he shut the door, "Because tea makes grown ups like Mummy and Daddy much happier about being awake before the sun."
"Oh, why isn't the sun up yet Daddy? Doesn't it know that it's Christmas?"
Foyle sighed at the never-ending string of questions, 'it was definitely too early for this…' "Err no the sun doesn't particular care that it's Christmas, it will be up at the same time it was yesterday."
"Oh…Daddy?" And so it went as they used the lavatory, collected Andrew's slippers and dressing gown and went downstairs. There was a brief reprieve from the never-ending questions of a four year old, when they reached the living room and Andrew saw what Father Christmas had brought.
He stood, completely still his mouth slightly open and then looked up at his father, his brown eyes, which were so like his mother's, shining with excitement, "Oh Daddy look!"
Christopher smiled down at his son, his chest warmed by the wonder in his young son's eyes, "Looks as if Father Christmas was very generous this year doesn't it?"
Andrew nodded eagerly, "Yes and he brought us lots of presents!"
Foyle chuckled and ruffled Andrew's hair; "Yes he did, now let's light the fire and then you can bring your stocking into the kitchen while I make tea."
The fire was soon burning heartily and Andrew, who had been temporally distracted by the important job of handing his father kindling to feed into the flames, bounded over to the settee where the stockings had been laid and studied them carefully.
It was helpful, Foyle mused as he watched son concentrate very earnestly on the stockings, that all of their names started with a different letter. Andrew couldn't read yet, only being four but he did know that his name started with an 'A.' Getting to his feet he crossed to stand behind Andrew, laying a hand on his small shoulder, "All right?"
Andrew shook his head, looking unexpectedly worried, "I think Father Christmas bringed you and Mummy the wrong stockings."
Foyle frowned, "Why do you think that Andrew?"
"'Cause they don't have and 'M' or a 'D' Daddy, this one's mine." He pointed to the lovely stocking that Rosalind had made for his first Christmas, his name carefully embroidered at the top. "But this one has a 'C' and this one has a…"
"R" Foyle supplied, his lips curving into a smile as he realized what Andrew's concern must be.
"But Mummy and Daddy don't have 'C' or…'R' so Father Christmas bringed you and Mummy the wrong stockings!" Andrew looked genuinely upset and the chuckle died in Foyle's throat as he picked his son up, giving him a reassuring hug.
"You can share my stocking Daddy." Andrew said earnestly and Foyle smiled as he dropped a soft kiss on his little boy's hair.
"That's very kind of you Andrew but it's all right, Father Christmas didn't bring Mummy and I the wrong stockings."
"He didn't?" Andrew asked, drawing back to look at his father, his face the picture of confusion.
Foyle chuckled softly and reached down to move the stockings aside before sitting down on the settee and settling Andrew in his lap. "No he didn't, this…" He paused to select Andrew's stocking, "is your stocking."
Andrew nodded, "I know."
"How do you know?"
""Cause it's got an 'A'."
Foyle smiled, "That's right," He took Andrew's little hand in his and together they traced the letters, "'A-N-D-R-E-W' that spells Andrew."
Andrew nodded so he placed Andrew's stocking to one side and picked up his own, "And this is my stocking. Do you remember what Mummy and Uncle Charles call me?"
Andrew looked thoughtful for a moment, "Chris-to-pher?"
Foyle's lips pulled down into a smile, "That's right, that's my name and that's what it says on my stocking see; 'C-H-R-I-S-T-O-P-H-E-R', Christopher."
"That's a lot of letters Daddy."
"Yes it is" Foyle agreed as he placed his stocking down beside Andrew's.
"So that's Mummy's stocking?" Andrew asked pointing to Rosalind's stocking, which was now lying on it's own.
"It is. What do I call Mummy when I come home from work?"
"Darling"
Foyle chuckled, "Very true but that's not Mummy's name, what's the other name Uncle Charles and I call Mummy?"
"Rose?"
"That's right, but that's a short version of Mummy's name. Mummy's name is Rosalind, 'R-O-S-A-L-I-N-D.'"
Andrew ran a hand over the letters they had just traced and then smiled up at Foyle, "Oh, that's a very pretty name isn't it Daddy?"
Christopher nodded and kissed Andrew's forehead, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all the joy in his heart, "Yes it is, a pretty name for the prettiest woman in the world."
Andrew nodded earnestly and then threw his arms around his father's neck, "I'm glad Father Christmas didn't bringed you and Mummy the wrong stockings Daddy!"
Foyle smiled as he hugged Andrew back, "So am I Andrew, now we'd better go and make Mummy some tea and then we can go and open our stockings upstairs on the bed."
"Can we have breakfast too? I'm hungwy."
"You are, are you? Well we can't have that, what do you say we take Mummy breakfast in bed then?" Andrew nodded eagerly, grabbing Foyle's hand and pulling him along to the kitchen.
Which is why, when Rosalind woke up again at six she was greeted by the sight of her two boys coming through the door, Christopher carrying a tray with tea and breakfast for them and Andrew holding all three of their stockings.
It was the best way to wake up and she couldn't remember being happier than she was as she sat in their bed with a cup of tea, Christopher's arm over her shoulders watching their beautiful son open his stocking.
The look on Christopher's face told her he was just as happy and she leaned up to kiss him whispering, "Happy Christmas my love."
A/N: Merry Christmas! All the best of the season to you and your families - TT-5