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Wow! This is pretty damn good like usual.

As for making the ebook, you could write the file in Word, and then you could export it to PDF. There are a number of ways in which the file could be exported. One that is free is through the use of the software 995 suite, which can be found at www.software995.com the program is simple to use. You'll grasp it in no time at all. Secondly, Open Office has an option to export files to PDF. furthermore, I believe but am not sure, but MS Office has that option as well.

Once you have converted the book to PDF, you could build a website and have people purchase it from you via paypal or google checkout. A good site builder that is easy to use and that is wonderful for this purpose is Angel Fire, and it is through Lycos. All you'd have to do is create the site and then create a secret page where the book download will be contained. a secret page would mean that the page would not be on the navigation bar and others could not see it until they paid for the item. The buttons for checkout, whether you use Google or Paypal are easy to integrate, and you could have it up in running in a matter of minutes. I hope that I've helped. If you have any further questions, please ask.

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Many thanks and I'll probably be getting back to you. I've recently been busy doing some illustrations - I'm no artist, but I'm learning fast! I'll see if I can incorporate them.

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you can also incorporate the illistrations into the document. It is not that hard to do. Just cut and paste. Once you've done that, you can downsize it to fit properly: or you can proportion the pictures to proper size beforehand using paint or PhotoShop. I'm here if you need anything else. Glad I can be of some help to you.

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Review

The day itself dawned bright and clear, the air fresh-laundered after the thunderstorm of the day before. We travelled over to Pembroke, where the family was gathering and dressing in those spacious surroundings so much closer to the church. Amelia was in the back of the car with me, and in full war-paint for the only second time in her life. Mum had taken her to a beautician for instruction in the gentle art of cosmetics, to which Amelia seemed to have little natural inclination, or, frankly, much need; the strong contrast of her dark hair, fair complexion and blue eyes needed no camouflage and little enhancement. The hairdresser had done his best to tame her unruly mane, and this morning fresh flowers had been entwined to compete the effect. The result was that she looked about eighteen when she had yet to see the passing of fourteen years. It reminded me that the week before she had taken advantage of the makeover to crash my hen party, and had the cheek to borrow my leather jacket to do so. How she got out of the house without mother knowing was quite beyond me, but she passed for adult with sufficient credibility to fool the doormen and bar staff, and had shown the stamina to withstand a long night of carousing.

Peter had survived his stag night, and I believe the lofty wardroom ceiling was now graced with his footprints. He had arrived last night with his friends, comrades and family to take over the Bedford Arms, even closer to the church, and the venue for the reception. The bar staff were now resting, and expected to recover.

Uncle Percy had arrived with his relatively new wife and his much newer Mercedes. He had finally married Claire, a fellow barrister and his long-time partner, after the most protracted pre-nuptial agreement negotiations since the reign of Henry VIII. The document, by then stretching to more than a hundred pages, had become the laughing-stock of the legal profession, but had eventually been finalised in a rush caused by the duly and properly notified intention-to-be-born of Viola. It wasn't until Viola, now twelve months, had actually arrived that someone told Claire of the family curse. To her fury she found that the various clauses in Section 5, para 3,(a),iii - v (on Page Eighty Seven) of the said agreement had neatly covered the problem without specifically mentioning it. She had thought it referred to Downs Syndrome and various other congenital and hereditary defects. A subsequent word-search of the document had failed to find one particular word: "Love".

William and Viola had been banished to the big playpen in the nursery, under the eye of Claire's au pair girl. Viola was already standing at the bar of the pen, appealing judgement in a dispute with William over the ownership and custody of a stuffed bunny.

Tom and Emma arrived with Vickie, and took the third bedroom, Percy and Claire having occupied the fourth. Gran was a stickler for precedent, and Mum, Amelia and I were dressing in the big second bedroom. From somewhere or other Amelia had acquired a very racy set of underwear in black, and was just about to be adorned in her bridesmaid dress when the raised voices of Emma and Vickie came from the nursery. In just her blouse over the ensemble, she went to investigate. Mum and I didn't care to wander about the house in a state of dishabille so we stayed behind. I had a fair guess that it was Emma laying down the law with regard to Vickie's underwear and I didn't want to get in the firing line on this particular morning. A few minutes later, Vickie walked in the door red faced and wearing a disposable nappy. Quite a large one. Then Amelia walked in behind her, and she too was wearing a nappy. "I said I would!" snapped Amelia, "and I meant it! Now let's see what the rest of the family thinks!" And she went off down the landing. "Hi Tom! Have you ever wondered what bridesmaids wear underneath? - It's This!" and on to the fourth bedroom. I followed, dressed or not this was too good to miss. She cheerfully strode in to where Claire was prinking herself, and grabbed poor Percy, who was sitting quietly in an easy chair minding his own business. She swung herself into his lap, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and gave him a big wet kiss. Claire was frozen in mid-prink, mouth agape.

"Sorry Claire, but Uncle Percy won't allow me to sit in his lap unless I'm wearing a nappy. Ever since I crapped on him by accident and ruined all his clothes. Since I've got to wear a nappy for the wedding - family rules - I thought I would take the opportunity to sit in his lap. I hope you don't mind." She wriggled provocatively.

Claire's mouth moved soundlessly. She was no doubt wondering if Section 5, para 3,(a),iii - v (on Page Eighty Seven) of her pre-nuptial agreement also covered lunacy in the family. Amelia looked up at me, "Come on Sis! You too! Show some solidarity!"

I couldn't reply; I was laughing too much. "I think Peter would probably not approve!" was all I could manage.

"I'm sure he'd love it!" came the reply. I didn't respond. Somewhere inside me the forbidden thought was still lingering. Perhaps she was right. " ...just like Percy does!" She tweeked his tie and kissed him again.

Ouch! Direct Hit! And in front of Claire too! I wondered which section of their agreement covered fetishes, and how they had managed to word it. It was time to get Amelia out of there. "Why not! Why not, indeed? Have you got one that'll fit me then?" and I grabbed her hand, and dragged her out through the door, down the corridor and back into our bedroom. "For God's sake Amelia, a joke's a joke, but don't take it out on poor Claire! Get your bloody dress on or we'll be late!" I said, driving her into the room with a slap on the seat of her nappy.

I could hear a heated discussion going on behind us between Emma and Claire, and Mum went down the landing to make a full quorum in the third bedroom. I couldn't hear the details, but Amelia's name was certainly mentioned. I murmured to Amelia saying that she would probably be sensible to keep the nappy on; the padding might be useful, even if the absorbency was unnecessary. She thanked me curtly and said that she hoped I would back her up. For a moment I thought she was going to ask me to wear a nappy too out of solidarity, but I had had other ideas for that department, and from now on those items were just between me and Peter, and I suspected for a limited time at that. Amelia said that she was determined that Vickie was going to stay dry, and went into the nursery to ensure she had the chance to use the lavatory before the formalities commenced.

Mum returned looking warlike, and calmed down enough to help array me with my dress, for which I was truly thankful, as I was not too familiar with a long, full skirt and petticoats. Ten minutes before the due time I proceeded cautiously to the hall, escorted by my bridesmaids and their fluttering mothers, to find Gran already there with the men of the family. We lined up in formation, and Gran inspected each one of us carefully, and had a few words. When she got to Vickie she uttered the dread words; "Are you comfy, dear?" and I waited in horror for the reaction.

"Quite comfy, thank you Gran." replied the angelic Vickie.

"So am I." said Amelia.

It was Gran's turn to look horrified. "Both of you?" and they both nodded. Gran, thunderstruck, moved on rapidly to check the turnout of her two daughters. I noted the subtle signs of rank. Vickie just had a little silver chain necklace with a pair of mother-of-pearl lovebirds hanging from it. I had one string of pearls, as did Amelia. Mum, Emma and Claire had two strings of pearls each, but Gran had four. Unfortunately she needed them, as she was now approaching seventy and starting to show it.

Gran returned to the front of the parade and gestured to Tom to open the great front door of Pembroke. Outside the limousine was already waiting, bedecked with white ribbons. "You first, "said Gran, "this time." Every journey begins with a single step, so I took my father's arm and we stepped forward.

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Manoeuvres, Deceptions ...and True Colours.

All had gone well, although Uncle Percy had nearly fallen over the churchyard ha-ha wall while backing off to frame a photograph. We were entertained by his wildly windmilling arms as he barely managed to recover his balance. I suppose, had he fallen, he would have tried to sue God. Amelia and Vickie had disappeared into the vestry while we were signing the register, the arch of swords hadn't cut anybody's head off, and all had gone without accident.

While the photographer was marshalling the other guests I leaned over my petticoats, and whispered desperately to Amelia. "What happens if they get wet?"

Amelia grinned. "The only way they're going to get wet is if a pipe bursts in the nursery. You don't really think we're kitted up do you? We're just winding Gran and Emma up. We managed to get rid of them while Emma wasn't looking."

Vickie sniggered. I straightened up. "Make quite sure nothing happens then." I whispered.

"Should we ask Gran to bring the changing bag?" whispered Vickie. I frowned my reply.

I was busy "circulating" at the reception when Amelia took my arm with an unusual request.

" I want to get over there to talk to Granpa!" she said indicating the corner where the old Admiral was holding court in a circle of young officers, "But every time I try, Gran stops me. Can you try and distract her for a moment?" I saw Gran, strategically placed to blockade all approaches, with Miss Berry in station on her port bow.

"I'll do my best!" I whispered, and smiling graciously I walked towards the two capital matrons as they lay at anchor in the Straits of Granpa. I extended a hand as I was introduced to Miss Berry, and just somehow managed to knock my glass, sending a spray of champagne across the floor. There was instant panic as Gran bent to see if any had landed on my skirt, and Miss Berry, for a brief instant, followed her. I saw a flash of apricot pass by behind them, and by the time we had straightened, Amelia was on Granpa's arm, smiling radiantly as she was introduced to Peter's fellow officers. It was plain that she wasn't exactly pining for Matt. I made a mental note to get Peter to tell his friends that, despite appearances, she wouldn't be legally "in play" for some years yet.

Gran congratulated me, and then noticed that Amelia had broken her blockade. She shrugged and winked at Miss Berry who was chuckling gently. Between them they had an incomparable knowledge of young women, and their attention then focussed on me. I was gently interrogated about my future plans in view of the poor prospects of employment in deepest Cornwall, and our home-making plans. I answered that I had been looking for a job down there, but without much success. Then they eased the interrogation and discussed the wedding, at which point Emma joined us. She asked who was looking after Vickie, and how glad she was that she had finally been reasonable and seen sense. She had the bag in the car and thought that Vickie might need some attention. I decided to play it along. "How about Amelia? She might need some attention, too." I asked. Emma looked horrified, but just then she spotted Vickie, who was approaching from the direction of the foyer.

There was a brief whispered conversation between them and Vickie smiled and shook her head, and looked towards Amelia. Emma looked thunderstruck and started to move back towards Amelia, but Gran intercepted her. Another whispered conversation followed, which finished when Gran, who had been nodding with lips pursed, gave a few words in final judgement. Emma smiled wanly, and rejoined us.

"Children!" she said, and both matrons nodded sagely, "They just never seem to want to do as they're told! Don't rush to have them, Juliet." I didn't reply, and then saw that I was the focus of some very careful attention from Gran and Miss Berry. I remained silent, just fingering the new gold band that had only been on my finger for an hour or so. I felt myself reddening at the gills, and tried to cover it with a laugh. I had to break the silence, which I recognised as a potent interrogation technique, and tried to sound jocular.

"Children? Well, come what may." I dissembled. The silence came down again. Finally Gran muttered something about "many years yet" and deftly changed the subject.

Claire came over to me, without Percy. I apologised for the earlier scene and she laughed it off. "Did Amelia really crap all over Percy, then?"

"I'm afraid so. She was quite small at the time, and had had rather too much of Percy's Industrial-Strength Curry. She made a very thorough job of it, too."

"Oh God! How marvellous! I'd have given my eye teeth to have seen that!" I realised that Claire could be human, too.

I took the opportunity; "I'm sorry about the scene with Amelia, but she has been championing poor little Vickie's cause over all this, and I think she got a bit carried away."

"Oh, I quite understand. Vickie's her client, and she is entitled to try almost everything. I can quite admire her for her courage and dedication. It was quite good fun to see Percy caught on the wrong foot and stuck for words; it doesn't happen often. I'm just so worried about little Viola going the same way. I don't think the au pair will be up to that one."

"I think in our case it goes through the female line, so I don't think you need to worry to much." And then I had a dreadful thought - if I had a daughter....

I made my excuses about "circulating" and went to talk to Vickie.

"How are you doing, Pet? You got through it OK."

"No problems. I knew I could."

"Your mother found out then?"

"Yeah. Much too late."

"Amelia came through, then?"

"Yeah, she was really great. We did a last-minute change while they were rowing. I really didn't need one, you know."

"I thought it was a bit much. How about the nights? Any improvement."

"Quite a lot. Dry for the last four. I'm determined to beat Amelia's record, and I've got a bet on with Michael. By Christmas, I hope, or even sooner."

"Go for it! I expect I'll see you then. I hope you make it." I knew Gran's views on the subject. I had spent so many Christmas Days bundled up around the nether regions, partly on the grounds of safety, but I suspect mainly on the grounds of keeping me in "child mode" for Christmas Day. Once or twice it had been needed. Vickie leant over to me and whispered, "What does it mean when you say "going Commando"?"

"Where did you get that one from, Vickie?"

"Amelia. She said that she didn't have time to put her pants back on so she would have to "go Commando". What does it mean?"

I saw a chance to get my own back on Amelia for this morning's scene. "Well you see that big chap in the high-necked tunic over there, talking to Amelia? Well, he is a Commando. Why don't you go and ask him?" and gave her a gentle push in that direction. I watched her toddle over, and the rather handsome Marine officer bent down to listen to the little voice. I saw his grin widen as he replied, and then saw Vickie gesture towards Amelia. Direct Hit! I had never seen her blush so deeply, and the roar of laughter amongst the circle of officers temporarily stopped all conversation in the room.

I turned to meet Peter's parents. I really liked Peter's mother, and she had long ago told me how much she had wanted a daughter. Peter had been brought up an only child, and had suffered terribly from loneliness. I asked if he had ever had any close friends he could have gone to stay with. Erica, my new mother-in-law, shrugged and said "Well you know the problem that you and your sister had?" I felt myself blushing; she had seen me in a nappy only once as far as I knew, but what had gone on between her and Gran over the garden fence was quite unknowable. I smiled and nodded. "Well, Peter was no stranger to that as well, you know......" Wow! Out it comes! Too late to back out now, even if I wanted to! "We had a devil of a job with him. Up to the age of about eight...." - Oh, Peter, and you never told me! - "....but I don't think there were any long-term effects. Children are much too young to understand at that age, you know." That's what you think, I thought. Several more pieces of the jigsaw had fallen into place. That explained the climbing over the hedge, the cheerful acceptance of my problem, his tolerance of Amelia's shenanigans, and eventually the riotous scenes in the nursery. Well, well, well! The last lingering question had been answered.

I looked over to where Peter was standing, back towards me, deep in conversation with Tom and Emma, and I saw him now, all of him. I saw the tall straight back, the broad shoulders, the easy stance, the power, the strength and the gentleness, all the things that I had known about him. And I also saw the little boy, frightened and alone, and trapped in that superman costume and trying desperately to live the part of his own creation. The John Wayne syndrome, of Man, the Tower of Strength, always trying to live up to his own self-image, when all the time he was as weak and vulnerable as any other human. I saw My Man. All of him: right the way through for the first time. I walked over, put my arms round his waist, and squeezed. He turned around, and I kissed him, long and hard. I knew the people around were smiling and chuckling, and thinking "there they go again", but they didn't know, they just didn't know that I was really kissing Peter for the first time, all of him, body and soul, right the way through, top to bottom, past, present and future, and that he was now a part of me and I a part of him. Erica's little betrayal had wedded us more firmly than any church ceremony.

Eventually the time came to leave. I tossed my bouquet high, the Marine officer put his hands around Amelia's waist and lifted her up to catch it. With a squeal she reached to hold her skirts down, and Vickie caught the bouquet. Hard luck, Amelia!

The TR6 growled down the road, and I turned to look at my new husband with great pride. The draught started to muss my hair, and I thought briefly that I might exercise my new prerogative and insist that he stopped the car and put the roof up. But then I thought again; I would have to tell him my secret sometime soon. Soon, but not just yet. Enjoy your drop-head sports car while ye may, Peter, because before the spring comes you are going to have to swap it for a family car.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Many thanks for the encouragement; I've written the first word - "Shan't" and the rest will follow in time. I've set it about ten years on to try and bring it full circle, unless anyone has any better ideas. (Perhaps I might even include a wasp-tongued lady in a wheelchair, if I am feeling particulally bloody-minded.) I've also been amusing myself drawing some illustrations for the existing episodes. I can't draw, but I'm learning.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Full Circle

Ten Years Later

Situation

"Shan't!"

"Oh Come On, Holly!"

"No, I shan't"

"I'm not going to stand for another mess in the car."

"Well, there won't be one."

"Too Right, because you're going to have one of these on. Now Come On!"

"Why doesn't Jack have to wear one? He's younger than me."

"Because he doesn't make puddles on the floor, and he doesn't wet his bed either. You do both. Or you would do if you didn't have one on."

"It isn't fair! If I have to wear one, he should too."

"He doesn't need one. He doesn't wet." Which was true. The bane of the family remained in the female line; I was the proud mother of a nine-year old daughter who had accidents in the day and seemed almost completely incontinent at night, and a seven-year old son who was as dry as a bone and regarded his elder sister with a superior contempt. I had had major problems in keeping him from humiliating her, and only the threat to take similar drastic action with him kept him from tormenting her all the time.

"If you don't wear one, you can't come with us. You'll have to remain here with Vickie."

"I thought Vickie was coming with us?"

"Not if she has to stay here with you."

I felt Vickie's supporting presence at my elbow, and was relieved. She had completed her "A" levels and was staying with me until the results came in. Not that here was any great fear about them, as Vickie was something of a prodigy, but it was a reward for the hard work that she had done, and a good start to what promised to be a splendid gap-year. As a result she was enjoying a holiday in Cornwall, near the beaches, and an introduction to all the handsome young naval officers at Culdrose. They in turn were delighted to make the acquaintance of the beautiful, gentle, but rather shy Vickie. It was well-known that she was the grand-daughter of an Admiral, and though he had long been out of the service, Granpa's reputation still counted. Vickie's connection with Peter certainly did her no harm either. He was widely tipped for promotion on his return from the Gulf, having finally managed to get the necessary sea-time in to qualify for another ring, and would most probably return to Culdrose. We had long ago decided to settle in Cornwall, and discovered that the long distance between our families and ourselves was no bar; if we didn't go up country to stay with them, they would be only too pleased to come and visit us in our lovely part of the world.

"Please Holly, I don't want to have to stay here and look after you." said Vickie, "Look let's use one of these." and picked up a pair of pull-ups.

I put my disposable down (I was always very careful to avoid using the "n" word in front of Holly, as it was bound to cause anger and tears) and said "What a good idea!" with all the cheerfulness I could manage. Holly remained silent, scowling at me from under her brows. "Under your dress, nobody will ever notice."

Holly looked up; "Can I have an ice-cream?"

"When we get there, certainly!"

"With a chocolate thing in it?"

"If you stay dry."

"Two chocolates if I stay dry?"

"Make you fat. Give you pimples. One only."

"Okay, then."

I wasted no time in slipping her pants down and getting the pull-up over her feet and up to her waist. It would be a slightly more difficult change in the car, but then I would have Vickie on hand to help.

"Now hurry up and get dressed, or we'll be late!"

It was not a day to be late. Peter's ship was due back in Plymouth, and we were going to fetch him home. I hadn't seen him for months, and heeding Gran's oft-repeated advice, had been busy with preparations for weeks beforehand. They had included an overhaul of my lingerie drawer, as Gran's advice tended to be very earthy when it came to looking after one's sailor-man on his return from the sea.

We took the quickest route to Plymouth, which in summer took a couple of hours due to all the dithering tourist traffic, needing continuous concentration. At least it wasn't Saturday, change-over day when one lot of "emmots" went home and another lot came down, nearly all along the single main road down the spine of the county. It was not a nice drive and offered little shade until we turned off the high road and went down the wooded valleys towards Plymouth, so it was good to have Vickie on board to keep an eye on the children and to keep them entertained.

Holly had quite taken to Vickie, and had even allowed her to put her to bed, and in return Vickie had been sensitive enough not to use the "n" word while completing the essential ritual. It was a bit like not mentioning the elephant in the room, as in the summer warmth Holly didn't wear her pyjama bottoms over the top, and presented a picture of a large waddling backside as she retreated, but thankfully little brother Jack had long since learned there were no points to be gained by tormenting poor Holly over her problem. Holly was still wet on most mornings, and my hopes of getting her dry before Peter came back had been in vain. Vickie had helped, acting as a role model, and still held the family record by getting dry before her ninth birthday, but while Holly's dry mornings were becoming more frequent, she was still a long way from being ready to try a night without a nappy. Oops! The "n" word! I must try to avoid it! It seemed to have one advantage; all the women of the family were very close, a sisterhood with a common secret, giving mutual support. It was this which had bonded Vickie with me, and to Holly in due turn. It had even bonded me with Peter, who was well familiar with the problem.

We trundled on, reaching Plymouth just in time to see HMS Cleveland entering harbour. By the time we had parked the car, she had arrived alongside, and we joined the other families on the quay waiting impatiently for their men folk. Peter, at the end of his posting, was amongst the first down the brow and we greeted effusively. When looming asphyxiation finally obliged us to break, Holly and little Jack had their turn, and then Vickie got a hug and a kiss. After a few minutes we retired to our car, and Vickie managed to find a toilet for the children to use. I had been so worried about Peter being in the Gulf that I even had a brief burst of tears, as the relief I felt at seeing him again worked through my system, but by the time Vickie returned I had straightened up and composed myself. Peter opened his luggage and gave the children the toys he had bought when the Cleveland had stopped in Gibraltar, and had a small but expensive piece of jewellery for me, and he had even got something for Vickie, who was surprised and delighted.

We piled into the car, and I remembered my promise of ice creams. I asked Holly if she had been dry, but I didn't get an answer. Eventually Vickie replied for her. "Almost." was all she said. I did not enquire further as this was not a time to raise the issue of toilet training, but bought ice creams for both of them anyway. Peter drove us home, while regaling us with tales of derring-do from his time in the Gulf, of boarding ships, and suffering long periods of heat and boredom between short spells of frantic activity. I updated him with family news, and he asked about all the business with Amelia, but I hadn't heard anything new and I didn't want to talk about that in front of the children.

Vickie very kindly offered to put the children to bed for us, but Peter insisted on being there. Jack made a lot of fuss and wouldn't settle until Peter had read him a story, which Peter was only too pleased to do anyway, while Vickie quietly got on with the chore of bathing Holly and putting her nappy on before leaving her clean and dressed for bed and cuddled in Peter's lap as he read to both of them.

Vickie had accepted an invitation to dinner from Simon French, one of the young officers she had met from Culdrose, and so Peter and I were left to enjoy a quiet supper at home. That had not happened by accident, as I had taken note of Gran's dictum that accidents of that nature were far too important to be left to chance. I knew that Simon had recently arrived at the station and was said to be on the lookout, and he was a fine young man and very handsome. A couple of phone calls, a "chance" meeting, and I just happened to be busy putting Jack to bed when a return call came, so I had to ask Vickie to answer it.... I know I shouldn't meddle with people's lives, although I had long suspected Gran of tipping off Peter's mum that a lonely little girl would be staying next door. Knowing Gran, she had probably planted that particular tree he used to climb over the hedge, with just that in mind.

Vickie had a key, and Simon was well-known to Peter, and so we wished them a pleasant evening, which allowed us to retire at an early hour, slowly and softly to renew our intimate relationship.

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Wow, wow, wow.... for a frog, you are an excellent author.... lets expand that - for a human you are an excellent author - developing the charachters so well that the reader feels for, and knows intimitly what each charachter is liable to do, and yet, is surprised, enthralled and captivated by each and every twist and turn. All I can say is, wow, and keep up the excellent work.

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Since you have asked so very nicely......

Mission

I looked at the clock as soon as I woke. I had overslept, and Peter was still sleeping beside me. My maternal duties called, and I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake him. I looked in on the children, and found both of them up and playing on the bedroom floor. For a moment I panicked, and then remembered it wasn't a school day, so there was no rush. I went over to Holly, and slipped my finger in the leg of her nappy. "Well done, a dry night!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry," she replied, "I was wet in the night, but I didn't want to wake you or Dad, so I changed myself. I knew you'd be angry if I just took it off."

That surprised me, not least because of her tactfulness. I made her stand up, and checked the fit. It wasn't perfect - it's not the easiest thing to do yourself, because all the angles are wrong, but she had made a fair and snug job of it. I decided to leave it on, not as a precaution, but mostly to show her that I approved of what she had done; this was a bit of progress, and I congratulated her accordingly. I left her and little Jack to their game and went to look for my other charge.

I hadn't heard Vickie come in last night, and although she could now be regarded as a grown-up, I still felt some duty towards her.

I opened her door softly, and breathed a small sigh of relief. Vickie was there, alone, sleeping on her front, with her mane of pale blonde hair spread all over the pillow. I thought I had been very quiet, but she opened one bleary blue eye and rolled over. "It's alright, I'm dry." she said, and chuckled.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Marvellous!" she replied, sitting up. "He's such a gentleman, so different from the boys at home. He even opened the car door for me. It's so nice to be treated as someone special."

Vickie was learning. There's more to a man than broad shoulders and a tight little bum, and most of her dalliances had been with callow, pimpled youths; a twenty-something naval officer would be a new experience. "Where did you go?"

"The Victoria at Perranuthnoe. Lovely old pub. The food was super!"

I did a calculation. Some hours were still missing. "What did you do then?"

"Went over to Marazion and walked on the beach under the full moon. It looked fabulous over the Mount!"

"You didn't go over to it?"

"Yes, we did, and had to race the tide back. I thought I would have to paddle, but then Simon picked me up and carried me. He got his feet wet instead."

As she sat with her arms wrapped around her shins, the morning sun shining through her hair, my Motherly Gland cut in. "You are being careful aren't you?"

She tossed her head, brushed an errant lock back with her hand and laughed. "You surely don't think I'm the kind of girl who would do it on a first date, do you? And with a sailor?" I shook my head. "And the sand was wet, anyway. And the rocks looked very hard." Oh Dear, that rather spoiled the effect. "So where did you and Peter do it the first time, then?"

Oh Dear, Oh Dear; I was caught. This personal-secret thing can cut both ways. I sat down on the bed at her feet and took a deep breath. "In the stables. In the hayloft. That's where most of the kids did it. I was sixteen, so it was legal. It took ages and ages to get the hay out of my hair afterwards."

Vickie's shoulders were shaking with laughter

"Tumbled in the hay! You, of all people! When I do it it's going to be somewhere better that that. A really nice room, a big soft bed, perhaps a four-poster, and an expensive meal, with champagne at least. I'm not doing it in a hayloft or a nasty wet beach. Or cheaply!"

"There's nothing wrong with a hayloft," came a deeper voice from the doorway. Peter, soft-footed as ever, had crept up on us; "at seventeen it was the only place available. And as for cheaply, we spent most of our pocket-money on riding, so it was an ice-cream."

"Where did you put the ice cream?"

"In our mouths!" I said, cuffing her gently, "The other sort of thing comes later. Besides, you haven't mentioned the man. Surely he's the most important bit. You don't want some clumsy smelly brute or some gormless youth."

"Oh, yes, he's got to be something very special. Not just anyone."

"Tall dark and handsome?"

"Certainly!"

"Gentle and well-mannered?"

"Naturally!"

"Good job, well paid?"

"Of course!"

"Like Simon French?"

There was a long pause, she dropped her eyes and bit her lip, trying to conceal her smile. I let the question hang while her blush spread.

"I'll start the breakfast." said Peter, breaking the sudden silence.

Conversation over breakfast covered many topics. Peter told me of his hopes of promotion, and a new job at Culdrose, which while mooted was not yet set in stone, and there were many others in the running. His reports had been very good, but the last lap was still before him. I suggested that we call Granpa, and seek his sage advice, and Peter agreed to do so after breakfast.

Vickie joined us with the children. Her services as unpaid nanny more than earned her keep, and I would be sorry when her holiday was over. The discussion turned to making some family trips while Peter was on leave, and Vickie asked about the Eden Project. This gained universal adult approval, although the children didn't understand what it was all about. While the details were being settled the phone rang. It was Gran, psychic as ever, phoning us as soon as we had thought of phoning her. Peter spoke to her, and then to Granpa, and spent some time listening carefully and agreeing.

I half listened. There had been changes at home. Gran had found that Pembroke was really too much to run for a couple of septuagenarians, and so when Percy's chambers had amalgamated, and Percy had taken a golden parachute and promotion to the Bench, a deal had been struck whereby he had moved into Pembroke with his family, Gran and Granpa had moved to a bungalow within easy reach of the shops and clinic, and a certain amount of money had suddenly flowed around the family. It all had to do with Inheritance Tax, and I couldn't quite understand it. The upshot was that Pembroke had become a residence more suitable for a judge, in Granpa's hallowed study law-books had replaced the ships, and the side table now sported a wig-stand bearing a full-bottomed wig. Once again the nursery reverberated with children, Viola the eldest, then Alice, and finally little Haldane. As a side effect, Mum and Dad had bought a holiday cottage close by our house in Cornwall, and were regular visitors, frequently with Gran and Granpa in the other bedroom. They were expected down next week, and the family would be together again. Except for Amelia.

And what of Amelia? That was indeed the question. Mum was desperately worried, and kept calling me to see if I'd had any contact from her, and I had to keep telling Mum that I had not. I think the trouble started after she went to Uni. Her long-term boyfriend, Matt Johnson, had gone to Edinburgh to study Medicine, and then Amelia had chosen to go to London and study Men, or so it seemed. Matt had been the only person who seemed to be able to control Amelia, and perhaps that's why she let him go. A tempestuous year at Uni ended suddenly when, out of the blue, she landed a modelling contract, and for the past few years she had been very successful. She became a papparazi's favourite, on the arms of fashionable pop stars and in all the newspapers, until the coverage began to go sour, with candid photos of her leaving nightclubs much the worse for wear, of her escort's yobbish behaviour, rumours of drugs, and finally of her wicked right jab which had flattened the latest teenage idol and caused her to flee the city. While the obnoxious idol recovered in hospital, spitting bile and allegations, Amelia had gone to ground, and a mass of papparazi searched the whole country and picketed every rehab clinic trying to find her. In fact, she had gone to Pembroke, and taken shelter with Percy and Claire, where she began to recover slowly from a state of physical and nervous exhaustion together with a severe depression. Then the papparazi had cottoned on to her whereabouts and descended like a swarm of bees. Claire had arrived home to find Maria, her distraught Filipino maidservant who had tried to explain in broken English how: "Big, big man come, take Miss 'Melia away jus' before photo-bastards come. She go happy; cry, but very happy!" and no more had been heard of her.

Peter put the phone down. "Jack's got an idea, or at least Gran has given it to him. Remember the barbecue party we planned?" - how could I forget our tenth anniversary? I'd been looking forward to it for ten years- "We make a big do of it and invite all the right people. Jack knows the Captain - another one of his former prot

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Execution

Plans were laid, and a marquee was booked in case the fickle Cornish weather took against us. Barbecue equipment was begged and borrowed from friends until we could have set up our own foundry. Chairs and tables appeared, as did a mass of crockery I never knew we had, and some I hadn't seen since the wedding. Huge amounts of vegetables were cut, peeled, sliced, diced and either stuck on sticks or layered into salad bowls. Such things were done to the remains of pigs, cows and sheep as to arouse the wrath of a dozen animal protection societies. Quantities of liquor were produced from traditional Cornish sources by means which would have fascinated the Customs and Excise.

Even Percy and Claire were piling in to help. Percy had interrupted their summer sailing expedition to anchor in the Helford River and they were bringing the children. The list began to lengthen. At the moment of maximum stress, Mum and Dad arrived bearing Gran and Granpa, and I had to wipe my hands and go to greet them. No, Mum, I haven't heard from Amelia, I've no idea where she is.

Gran made a tour of inspection of our chaotic situation and then issued a few crisp orders, or "made a few little suggestions" as she put it. Order instantly re-established itself, and I was able to retire to my bedroom to try to turn a badly overworked and rattled housewife into the lady of a potentially senior naval officer. I even fielded Holly, washed her face, brushed her hair, and got her into the nice little frock I had bought for the occasion. And pull-ups. No protests. Any more nonsense and it would be nappies; I wasn't having any accidents today. Holly's mouth moved to protest, but at that moment Gran's footsteps were heard approaching and she yielded to superior forces. I was just adjusting the pull-up around Holly's waist when Gran came in the bedroom door.

"What a good idea!" she said, "Now you can eat and drink whatever you like, Holly, and there won't be anything to be ashamed of." Holly cast her a look which would have frightened Genghis Khan, and stomped out of the room.

Gran admired my room, ignored the untidy dressing-table and gave me a thorough inspection. "You're looking marvellous, dear, such a nice dress." I had passed muster. Peter hurried in, briefly kissed Gran, and began changing his shirt. Mum came up, holding the hand of an already smoke-blackened Jack and began to wash him. I went to the top of the stairs, counted slowly to ten, and then stepped gracefully down as the cool unflustered hostess.

By the time the barbecues had stopped smoking almost all of the expected guests had arrived. I had time to take stock. Vickie, simply gorgeous, tanned to Palomino perfection and dressed in a little white frock, was being introduced to The Captain by Granpa, Peter was circulating with the drinks, Simon was tending the barbecue and making sure that little Jack kept upwind of it, Holly was playing with William, Viola and Alice, and Claire was supervising them while holding Hal's hand to ensure he went nowhere near the reserve charcoal. Percy was chatting up the Commander with sailing talk, Mum and Dad were tending the salad bar, and Gran, in the midst of charming the wives, but with her eyes everywhere, caught mine and winked.

Tom and Emma arrived, just a little late, but with the news that Vickie had made a clean sweep of all her exams, and would be on her way to Cambridge to read Maths after her gap year. The news filtered round the party, and Vickie found herself in even greater demand.

At the moment of victory, a bright colour flashed in the corner of my eye. It was a surfboard. Not an uncommon sight in Cornwall, but this one was surfing unoccupied along the top of the hedge beside the lane. I checked my glass. I was sure I had only had one very small one. The surfboard reached the end of the hedge, and the Volkswagen camper beneath it turned in, rattling and spluttering to a halt in the driveway. Such campers, decorated with a wide range of interesting stickers, were a common sight in Cornwall, but this one was more than a bit out of place amidst the svelte vehicles of our friends. Many eyes swung towards it, and the passenger door opened to the air of expectation that might have accompanied the arrival of a flying saucer. About a yard-and-a-half of tanned, toned legs emerged, terminating in tiny cut-off denim shorts and surmounted by the rest of Amelia.

Amelia began to stalk slowly along the garden path, placing each high-heeled sandaled foot across the front of the other, catwalk style. Heads were raised, shoulders squared and stomachs were pulled in by the men in a manner that would have delighted any drill-sergeant. Wives and girlfriends bristled, and several hands were slipped inside the elbows of their menfolk, and pulled tight. A bowl broke at the salad bar, and I could see Dad putting an arm around Mum to support her. Amelia went up to Gran, and bent down to kiss her, revealing a remarkable curve of flesh to those behind. I prayed that nothing would fall out of the open blouse and reveal even more to those before.

"Amelia, dear, what do you call those, exactly?"

"Denim cut-offs Gran. Jeans with the legs cut off."

"Aren't you supposed to leave something behind when you do it? You seem to have cut them off at the armpits, dear. Be a good girl and put something more suitable on. You'll catch your death of cold!"

Amelia straightened up and laughed, showing a perfect set of teeth, and tossed her hair. Wifely hands tightened on husbandly elbows, threatening to cut off all circulation. She turned and smiled radiantly at Granpa and The Captain. Granpa nodded gently. "Another granddaughter." he told The Captain.

I turned to see what the cat had brought in this time. A large figure filled the pathway, raw-boned and tousle-haired. "Hello, Matt." was all that was needed.

At that moment I felt a tug at my sleeve. Holly was there, and her crestfallen face said it all. Taking advantage of the diversion, I slipped her inside and upstairs for a change. A moment later Claire arrived with Viola and Alice on a similar mission. I hadn't realised that Viola was "kitted up", but then understood that life on a sailing boat precluded the use of cloth nappies, and they were wearing pull-ups like Holly. Claire was equally determined that there should be no scenes involving puddles to cloud our day. "Who is he?" asked Claire, and I told her the story. "Let's hope she has the sense to stick to him this time, then."

I rejoined the party, where conversation had resumed. Amelia was in a corner behind the salad bar, being interrogated by Mum and Dad, shrugging with her palms upward, and obviously making explanations. Peter had taken Matt in hand and had introduced him to Doc Martin, the chief medic at the base. Martin was one of my favourite friends, and a very useful one as I could discuss Holly's problem with him without anything being committed to paper. I knew that Matt had been training as a doctor, and it was plain that shop was being talked. Matt and Martin were getting along very well, and, it may have been in my genes, but I thought I could detect the smell of a press-gang at work.

In another corner Tom and Emma had been introduced to Simon, and Vickie was in slightly apprehensive attendance. I didn't think she needed to worry, as Emma's body language was clearly evident from my perspective; she obviously considered Simon to be very suitable.

My sweep continued round the garden, checking that glasses and plates were full, and saw that Percy had taken over the management of the barbecue and was instructing the sausages in their duties, and summing up the steaks. Young Hal was hitting the orange juice again, and it was only a matter of time before he too would be whisked inside for a change. Holly and Viola were showing Alice how to make daisy-chains, while little Jack watched curiously, but afraid to ask about what was plainly girl-business. All was well with the world, and even the weather was perfect. I mused for a moment on the effect that it might have on Peter's prospect of promotion, and decided that if he didn't get his extra ring after this, then we had better take up engineering.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Thank you for your encouragement, I am writing some more chapters and will add them shortly. (I'm really stickng this in so that, if I ever want to write an intermediate chapter I can slip it in here by editing this message.)

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Christmas Eve

Uncle Percy and Aunt Claire decided to hold Christmas at Pembroke as a big family gathering, so we arrived at Pembroke on Christmas Eve, and packed ourselves in somehow. Jack was consigned to the Nursery to his intense annoyance, to share it with Claire's younger children; Alice was also seven, and little Haldane only three, and both were still wet nearly every night. Against our expectations, their eldest daughter Viola had also inherited the family curse, and at twelve years of age was getting very, very bolshie about it. She was not enthusiastic about sharing her bedroom with Holly, although within ten minutes they were as thick as thieves. Both of them shared the common problem, which had always militated against any sleepovers and severely limited their social lives, so as mutual sufferers they bonded swiftly.

The children were allowed to stay up later than usual, as we anticipated the usual trouble in getting them to bed in such a state of excitement. I managed to distract Jack while Alice and Hal were on the changing table, and his pointed remark about not needing nappies himself was ignored and lost amongst the general hum of conversation.

Claire asked about Holly and her problem.

"She's doing well. How's Viola doing in that respect, Claire?"

"She's dry most nights, but there's still the occasional accident. One or two in the day as well."

"Same with Holly. Progress, but nothing consistent or convincing."

"Does Holly change herself yet?"

"She's learning. How about Viola?"

"Well, she has to, most nights. I'm usually busy in London until late and I wouldn't expect Maria to do that, I mean she's a treasure, but there are limits. If I'm home, I seem to end up changing her myself, though. I think she enjoys the contact, and frankly, so do I. I know I spend far too much time in Chambers, and work far too late, but all this does have to be paid for, you know."

"And how about Hal and Alice?"

"Hal and Alice are still very young. We have an au-pair to help from time to time, and Maria certainly doesn't mind looking after them, but I think Viola would really resent it if Maria ever tried to change her nappy."

"I remember having that problem with babysitters. I would rather burst than be changed by them. What are you doing about tomorrow in the day?"

"I managed to argue a case for Viola to wear something tomorrow. She was very angry about it, but, frankly the new carpets in the lounge and hall cost a fortune, and I certainly don't want any accidents on those. She appealed to The Judge, but lost her case. He paid for the carpet after all."

I wasn't surprised that she had lost. Percy had soon established a reputation as the only hanging judge in the commercial law field.

"I'll do the same with Holly. If Viola's going to be wearing a nappy as well, it should be easier.... Oops! I used the "n" word; I'm trying to avoid it as much as possible; it gets Holly very upset when I do."

"I know the feeling, but sometimes I run out of euphemisms.... Nappy, Nappy, Nappy! Ah, that feels better! Sometimes you just have to tell it like it is!"

"What type will you use?" I knew that Claire was always anxious to maintain her Green credentials, and favoured real nappies, which was quite possible if you had the necessary machinery to wash them. In Claire's case the machine was Maria, the long-suffering Filipino maid, who had to do them. Maria was on leave over Christmas, a residue of the old Saturnalia tradition and an oversight of Claire's about which she was rather rueful.

"Her usual. Fortunately I could get some fancy pants in her size for Christmas, there's a company that does them. I think they'd fit Holly too. She can use them if she wants to",

I asked the name of the company, and I wondered if they made them in my size too. I was tempted - I knew the effect they had on Peter - but it was difficult with the children around and so I had resisted the temptation, but I noted the name of the company. "I've got disposables for Holly. And some pull-ups. Wouldn't it be easier to use those?"

"I took Gran's advice. She said that modern disposables were just too comfortable and Viola wouldn't realise when she was wet. I want her to be sufficiently uncomfortable to at least try to dry up. and besides, it takes them five hundred years to decay in the landfill!"

"So who's going to be digging up the landfill to be worrying about that? In a thousand years, maybe... Besides, who's doing all the washing while Maria's away?"

"Good point. It's mounting up. It'll take her a week to clear it when she gets back. Have you got any spare ones?"

I thought of the large bag of nappies and pull-ups Peter had packed in the back of the car, and the immediate efforts that Holly had made to conceal it. "Yes, plenty. I'm pretty sure they would fit Viola. We've just had to move up a size in the nappies." I thought also of Holly's loud objections to the extra pillowing between her legs, and the exaggerated waddle she had adopted in protest.

"While we're on the subject, where are those two?" We repaired to Viola's bedroom where we found the pair of them in deep discussion over Viola's collection of dolls; particularly a Barbie fully robed for court, complete with periwig.

"Come on, break it up. Are you ready for bed Viola? No? Right, On the bed!"

Pleas and protests soared up. Claire opened a drawer on the chest, and removed a shaped nappy and pair of plastic pants in a rather pretty pink with a print on them. I opened Holly's pack and handed her over to her bed. She clutched her dressing-gown about her tightly and protested.

"Don't be silly, Holly, we really don't want a wet bed on Christmas Morning, do we? Look at Viola, she's being so sensible!" That was stretching a point. Viola was looking furious as her loins were being wrapped in what appeared to be countless layers of towelling. I opened the disposable on Holly's bed, prised her dressing-gown open, and slid her pyjama bottoms down. Her shoulders slumped, she dropped her dressing gown on the floor and climbed onto the nappy.

"Ointment's over there. You use it don't you?" I thanked Claire and took a dollop, spreading around Holly's vulnerable area and wiping my fingers on the lining of her n... Oops!... garment. It was so important to keep the ointment off the tapes or they wouldn't stick. I glanced over at Viola. Claire was sliding the pants up her legs; She was certainly getting the full baby treatment tonight, having them put on while still lying down. Holly spread her legs so I could pull the front of her nappy up between them and tape the sides. Viola stood up, adjusting her own nappy a little and fingering the elastics on her pants, then looked at Holly, who was pulling up her pyjama bottom..

"All done! Comfy?" asked Claire.

Viola didn't acknowledge. "Doesn't she wear pants over her nappy?" she said, looking at Holly.

"Not usually. Not needed." I answered.

Holly reddened slightly, then retaliated. "I like your baby pants, they're very pretty but don't you wear pyjama bottoms? Don't they fit over your nappies?"

Both Claire and I intervened before eyes were scratched out, and we bundled them into bed. Strong injunctions were served on them that they should remain there and go to sleep, or Father Christmas wouldn't bring them any presents. I don't know which of the unbelievers blew the raspberry, but it was obvious that particular threat had now passed its sell-by date.

Claire and I returned downstairs where the clink of glasses summoned us to the lounge. Vickie and Simon had arrived, and the adult side of Christmas was getting under way. Simon and Vickie had been seeing a great deal of each other since the summer, and this was obviously planned to be their acceptance as an item. This was underlined when Tom and Emma arrived a little later with Vickie's little brother, William. William was not so little now, and was starting to grow like a weed, and his voice was beginning to break. While Simon was in one corner being carefully polite to his new commanding officer, I drew Vickie aside into the other corner with Claire.

"Vickie dear, I'm a bit worried."

"Oh don't be, we're being very careful!"

"No," I gagged for a moment while I took her reply in, " It's about whether you've told him about our little family problem. Most of the kids will be in nappies tomorrow, even Viola. Does he know?"

"Oh yes, I told him about all that; I told him it only effects the girls."

"How did he take it? What did he say?"

"He said we'll only have boys!" she giggled.

"Well done! Good work!" I gave her a hug, and Claire refilled our glasses. This was a very much more mature Vickie than the moody teenager of last Christmas. It wasn't difficult to see the reason; Simon was really very handsome and a few very important years older than Vickie. She had grown up rapidly in his company and acquired a polish and sophistication that belied her years. I asked her about Cambridge.

"I'm still looking forward to it," she said, her voice having a tremor of doubt in it, "but I don't want to spend three years away from Simon."

"It won't be like that. There are long holidays and weekends, and if Simon can't get up there, we'd be very happy to have you down in Cornwall."

"And if he's off at sea for months at a time?"

"It's not that bad. Really, it's not that bad." I felt my lies failed to convince even me, "And when they come home, Wow! It's like falling in love again for the first time. It never goes stale!" Well, that was almost true. Nothing is like falling in love for the first time, and for me it had yet to go stale.

With the children safely asleep - it had taken several visits to quieten them down, we started to array the parcels around the tree. The first thing we found was little Jack curled up behind it, keeping a watch for Father Christmas. Not much of a "great white hunter", he was fast asleep, and barely stirred as he was carried to bed. Midnight found us back around the remains of the fire toasting Happy Christmas with sherry and mince pies. Eventually, on retiring to bed, Claire and I looked in on our children. Holly awoke as I checked her nappy, and asked if it was Christmas day. I replied that it was, but Father Christmas hadn't come yet. She grinned. Since she was awake I got her out of bed and made her use the toilet. As I was refastening the tapes, she asked me if I had asked Father Christmas for anything myself. I gave her a hug and told her that I had asked for a dry daughter. She but didn't reply, but hugged me back tightly, and then I laid her down and tucked her in with a kiss. Stockings containing a few small toys and treats were slipped quietly on to the ends of the beds, with the hope that any children waking too early would be kept amused by these until a civilised hour had arrived for adults to be woken.

I rejoined Peter, who was already in bed. As I crawled in beside him he asked me the same question. Since my previous reply had been successful, I repeated it, and got the same result. Wrapped in Peter's arms I fell asleep.

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Christmas Day

Father Christmas had indeed been kind, and Holly had remained dry, as had Viola. Claire went in to check and called me to witness this little miracle. Although they were duly congratulated, this didn't alter the normal plan, and it was confirmed that both girls would still have to wear nappies for the day. The custom derived from harsh experience in view of the amount of food and drink that would be consumed and the general level of excitement and concentrated play. In previous years, and indeed in previous generations such precautions had been needed.

Viola started the argument in fine style. Claire had been training her from birth to be a lawyer, and taught her how to marshal her arguments, and she was certainly capable of making a convincing case. She pleaded that criminal records of previous accidents were inadmissible when deciding guilt or innocence. A lovely move. Claire responded that there was a clear case to support a charge of "going equipped to wet". Psychological damage was cited, but then Criminal Damage was alleged in respect of stains on the carpet, and public nuisance, disturbance of the peace, and urinating in a public place were thrown in. The argument went to and fro, to Holly's bemusement. I took her aside. "Pull-ups under your tights, but if you wet them, then it's nappies?" We shook on it, and were half way through breakfast before Viola joined us. A satisfactory compromise had been reached after long argument. She was wearing pull-ups under her tights; if she wet them, it would be nappies. I shuddered to think of the court costs that would have been incurred had the compromise not been agreed.

Father Christmas had promised nothing about Claire's new carpets, but the girls were promised "free ones" all day. It may have been poor practice, but it was usually needed, and avoided further rows. Pull-ups were barely visible under their tights and long dresses, and also made toilet visits much simpler. Only Alice and Hal had the full house of nappies and pants, but that was Claire's decision, and Alice didn't object. Hal was certainly some way from being dry in the daytime, and these were his normal attire.

The rest of the family began to arrive after breakfast. Mum and Dad brought Gran and Granpa, and then Matt and Amelia came a little later. All told, there were twenty of us present, covering four generations, and all the womenfolk had to pile in to help with the catering. That being too much of a crowd, even in Pembroke's large kitchen, Vickie was delegated to supervise the children. Being the former ringleader of the gang, she was cheerfully accepted in her new adult role.

When everybody had arrived, we distributed ourselves around the hall, and Percy and Claire began to pass out the presents from around the Christmas tree. We had spared Percy the duty of dressing up as Father Christmas; he said he had enough of wearing ridiculous gowns at work. Claire's new carpet began to be obscured by a layer of discarded wrapping paper, and she began to bag some of it up judiciously. I received some beautiful things, but also a pack of smelly bath salts. The dreaded Knell of Middle Age! I suppose it had to come one day. One of Peter's gifts more than made up for it, but they were not the kind of things I would care to flash around in public. Amelia might, she might even wear them on the catwalk, but they were not for the eyes of children. I gave him a big kiss, and promised much more later.

I watched the excited children, always the centre of Christmas, as they crowded round the tree with whoops of joy and boisterous chatter. Every so often Holly or Jack would come over to show me something wonderful, and gradually I built up a deposit of toys to allow space for them to open even more presents. Gran and Granpa sat at the end of the room, sipping glasses of sherry, and smiling proudly and benignly at their vast family. Matt sat quietly behind Amelia, wrapping his long arms around her. She leant back into him, and held his arms. He nuzzled her ear and whispered who-knows-what into it. They could have been anywhere, in a world of their own, but they were certainly not all here. Vickie and Simon involved themselves with the children, helping them with the more elaborate packages, admiring and complimenting, and occasionally arbitrating. Dad moved around topping up glasses from the sherry decanter, while Mum and Emma kept nipping out to check the kitchen.

How Claire managed to organise lunch for all of us was something of a miracle. The adults managed to fit around the great table in the dining room but there was precious little spare space for the huge dishes of vegetables. We managed it by carving the turkeys on the sideboard with Dad and Tom acting as waiters, while the children had a table of their own in the conservatory, where they could make whatever mess, noise and mayhem they liked with minimum supervision. Even little Hal managed to cope with this, and the adults were left to enjoy a civilised meal in cultivated company. It was the old Victorian style, well suited to Pembroke, and was a great success.

We retired to the lounge for coffee, and Vickie had the bright idea of getting Viola to start a game of Monopoly with her new set. This kept the older children involved, while Hal amused himself with a plethora of new toys.

Allowed a respite from their happy shrieks the adults managed to talk of the past year, and plans for the future. Matt surprised us by saying how disillusioned he was with his practice in rural Devon, how the waiting room was full of grey heads, arthritis and colds, how the young people all seemed to have gone to the towns, and how far he had to go to get to anywhere. He wasn't getting on too well with the other doctors in the group practice either; most of them had been there for years and resented him as the newcomer. He had even been down to Culdrose for a few days, where Doc Martin had shown him a different kind of medicine, and Matt was seriously thinking of joining the navy. This immediately got him the full attention and approval of Grandpa, and the prospect that he might arrive at Culdrose at some time, possibly even with Amelia, suddenly seemed very attractive. To my surprise, Amelia had been encouraging him. She was utterly sick of London with the shallow and phoney society she had enjoyed, and while Devon was a bit deadly for her, she was well aware of the advantages of service life, with changes of scenery and the type of people she felt she knew and could trust.

We talked it all over as the winter afternoon light faded, and we began to recover from our over-indulgence at lunchtime. The children had been unusually quiet, and I suddenly felt quite guilty at leaving them so long unattended. I found that the game had reached a crucial stage, with Jack facing imminent ruin in trying to navigate a densely built up area, and Viola sitting on a property empire. William was rolling the dice in an attempt to get out of Jail. I asked Holly if she was all right and her brief "Yes, Mum." seemed very unconvincing. I asked her if she needed the toilet, and her guilty look gave the game away. I checked her pull-up.

"Oh Holly, for Heaven's sake, you're leaking!"

"Mum, I can't go, it's important

"Come on. Right Now! The game will have to wait." and I led the protesting child up to the bedroom.

"Mum, I'm coming up to Park Lane and Mayfair and Viola's got hotels on them!"

"They'll still be there when I've got you changed. You know what I said about Claire's carpets!"

"You said I could have a free one!"

"And you know what I said I would do if you needed changing!"

"Oh Mum, Noooo....."

"Hold your skirt up!" I slipped her pull-up and wet tights down in one, and cleaned her up with wipes. As I did so, Claire came in dragging a reluctant Viola.

"Oh, Mum, I've got hotels there and Holly was coming straight for them! I couldn't leave!" Viola's skirt came up and her pull-up came down. I passed Claire the packet of wipes.

I took a fresh nappy from the pack, and said "Right, Milady, how would you like to be done?"

Claire tutted about the waste of the disposable on Holly, since in the few hours remaining before bedtime she could be expected to remain dry, and offered her one of Viola's tailored cloth nappies. To my surprise Holly accepted it; as she said it would make a change, and it might be a bit quieter than the crackly disposable. I said I didn't want to put any more load on her washing machine, but Claire simply replied "No problem!" and passed over a nappy and a pair of plastic pants. "Then they'll match."

Holly gave the pants a filthy look, but I pointed out they would be well concealed under her skirt. Without further ado, I wrapped the nappy around her and pulled the thick front up between her legs, pinning it all tight at the waist, but allowing her some slack between the legs. It was too late for Holly to make any protest now, so I held the pants open for her and she stepped into them, pulled them up swiftly and ran my fingers around the leg elastics to make sure they were well tucked in. Holly giggled.

"That's nice!"

"Comfy?" I replied, the automatic question, "Then let your skirt down. Look! Perfect! No-one will ever know!" and I took some long white stockings out of her bag to complete the ensemble.

"What if Simon sees?"

'"Simon knows all about it. He's a gentleman; he won't make any comment. you'll see."

"But who told him? It's supposed to be a secret."

"Vickie told him. It's alright. She didn't want him to just find out. Remember, she once had the same problem and had to wear nappies, too. She told him that, and wanted to make sure he wouldn't be angry when he found out. He's bound to anyway, sooner or later, if he becomes part of the family." I hadn't noticed this interest in Simon before, but I could see where she was coming from. He was very handsome, after all.

"Is he going to marry Vickie, then?"

"I don't know. I don't think they know, yet. Maybe. But it's important for us to wait until they decide, and then they'll tell us. It'll probably be a long, long time yet. Vickie wants to go to university first. That'll be three years at least."

"Why does it all take so long?"

"Because it means putting two lives together, and there are lots of things that have to be decided and arranged. Not least, they have to decide if they really, really love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together."

"Will I be married one day?"

"Probably, but you'll have to meet someone who's really nice first."

"I think Simon's really nice."

"Now come on, let's have some tea." and I guided her towards the door. Viola, who had been listening intently, followed.

I walked along the landing with Claire, as the children ran ahead. "A couple of potential bridesmaids there, I think." She agreed. They were very much alike, and now very easy in each other's company.

"Lets hope Vickie and Simon make it. They're a natural couple. She's really quite a catch, but she still has a lot of growing up to do. She's such an innocent."

"Yes, but I think it's innocence rather than ignorance. She knows, and chooses, and I don't think she's half as pure and simple as she appears. She'll grow up a lot at Cambridge. Let's hope it doesn't turn her head."

"And Matt and Amelia?"

"If there's anyone who can tame Amelia and make a wife of her, it's probably Matt. There's a certain wildness in him, too."

"Do you think she wants to be tamed?"

"I think she's very tired of the life she had. It all went sour on her."

The children returned to their game. Viola remarked loudly that Jack hadn't had all those houses on Vine Street when she went up. Jack insisted that they had been there all the time. William backed him, winking quietly at Viola, and she desisted.

"Where's my shoe?" she asked.

"On your foot?" retorted Holly,

"No, My Monopoly shoe. It was on Bond Street."

"It'll turn up. Take another one in the meantime" said William. "Holly, it's your turn. You've got to clear Park Lane and Mayfair." The four of them returned to the game. If Simon had not known about the family problem he could hardly avoid seeing it now; the three girls were sitting cross-legged at the board, and their skirts had all ridden up to reveal plastic pants stretched over their nappies. If he ever noticed, he made no comment at all.

The game was ended at teatime with Viola claiming victory and William graciously conceding it; Holly was quite a long way behind, despite trying to enlist the help of Simon. A supper was then served to the children with even more food and even more drink, before they were reluctantly taken up to bed one by one. Hal objected strongly to being taken from amongst his mass of toys, but it was well after his usual bedtime. He splashed in the bath and soaked everything, he wriggled when being dried, he made a break from the nursery and had to be recaptured, and finally he wriggled and kicked out at his night-nappies as they were being drawn up between his legs. I noticed that Claire had doubled him up in view of the amount he had been drinking, and our old joke about being "nappied to the knees" came precious close to the truth. He certainly wasn't going anywhere with that load around his loins, and had little choice but to stay in his cot, staring out through the bars and loudly protesting his innocence.

Alice, as ever, was the model of good behaviour, kissing Granny and Great-Granny goodnight, and waddling off with all the dignity that a drooping nappy could would allow her. In deference to her good behaviour, no comment at all was made about her wetting, and she appeared quite grateful and even happy when she too was wrapped in more than the usual layers of towelling and popped into bed. Claire was under no illusions about the amount of food and drink that her children had consumed, or where it was likely to end up.

Jack was next, and amazingly made no trouble at all although one too many smart comments about Alice's problem resulted in him being hoisted onto the changing table and being asked how he would like to be done, cloth or disposable? His loud objections caused much laughter, and he was only allowed off the table when he had apologised to the furious and humiliated Alice. I think he was quite proud that he was spared the indignity of being nappied, but I made a mental note to get him out and pot him later; he had had a great deal to drink, and he was only human - and only seven.

Then it was Holly's turn, which I was dreading. It wasn't a time for one of her awkward turns, as Alice had gone so quietly and set such a good example, and I went to find her with some trepidation. She was on the sofa, sprawled along the laps of Peter, Simon and Matt and undergoing a severe tickling, shrieking with laughter. Her dress had ridden up above her pants and three pairs of hands were busily tickling almost every part of her. For a little while I watched in some envy; having three handsome fellows tickling you all over was two more than I was used to. Eventually I retrieved my daughter before she was worn away completely, and overruling her protests guided her towards her bedroom and the waiting bath. A pat on her bottom raised suspicions which were confirmed when I pulled her pants down.

"Holly, you're soaked!" I said as I unpinned her soggy nappy.

"Sorry, Mum, it was all the tickling. You said it was a free one, so I didn't really try too hard."

"All the same, at your age it's a bit much." I wasn't really angry; I was just glad it wasn't a dirty one as well. I dropped the nappy into the pail and nudged Holly towards the bath.

"Simon's really nice, isn't he?"

"Yes he is. I hope you didn't leak onto him!"

"Oh God, I hope not! That would have been awful!"

"A good thing you had a nappy on then."

"I suppose so. I'd forgotten that I had it until I felt wet."

"Let's do your back. I think I'm going to have to do you quite thickly tonight, after all you've had a lot to drink and you've been wet twice in the day. I'll see if Claire's got any boosters."

"Not too thick, please. I can't sleep on my side if you do. And it's very difficult to go to the loo if I need to."

"How likely is it that you will go to the loo? When did you do that last time?" I challenged. This was usually a clincher.

"I went last night. That's why I was dry this morning."

I remembered. "Oh, Well Done! What a pity you were so wet in the day then. OK, all done, out you get and make way for Viola."

Viola was of an age when her dignity required that she bathe herself, even if her problem required she then be nappied for the night like a baby. I returned to the bedroom with Holly to see Claire dropping a very wet nappy into the pail.

"Oh dear, Viola was wet too?"

"I'm afraid so. She had a tickling session with the boys after Holly had left. A bit too much on a full bladder, so she said, but I didn't see her protesting at the time. What a good thing they were in nappies today!"

"We'll have to have a word with those boys. Someday it'll happen when the kids aren't protected and the result might be embarrassing."

Claire laughed. "We can forgive them a lot on Christmas Day. I'm just glad it wasn't over the furniture and carpets or, worse still, my guests."

"Still, here's one to be secured for the night. And well secured, I think. Do you have any boosters?"

"Not for disposables, sorry. How about using a cloth one for a night, Holly? They don't leak so much and Viola says they are less sticky."

I agreed, and confirmed the advantages from my own experience. I raised an eyebrow in Holly's direction and was again surprised when she shrugged and accepted. Claire drew two square terry nappies from the chest of drawers and placed one on each bed. She added baby-nappies as boosters, then kite-folded them. "They hold more and they dry faster because they only have one layer." she said, "but you can make them as thick as you like."

This wasn't quite what Holly had in mind, and it would be very difficult for her to go to the lavatory, so I said I would pot her before I went to bed myself, and with that she accepted and sat herself down in the middle of the nappy. I gave her a good dollop of ointment, and then the luxury of a coat of baby powder; I didn't normally use it as it made the tapes on a disposable reluctant to stick. I pinned her carefully, took the pants from Claire, and slipped them over Holly's ankles. "Hup!" She stood up and I pulled them up to her waist. She stood there somewhat bemused, shifting from leg to leg and running her hands around the leg elastics.

"Do they really do this to little babies?" she exclaimed.

"Every night. It should last you the whole night, anyway." said Claire. I resolved again that I would pot Holly later.

"It should last for the rest of the year!" said Holly. "I can't even walk like this!"

"Where were you planning on walking to?" I asked

"The toilet if I need it. I think I'll have to crawl."

"Your toilet is now on board!" laughed Claire cruelly.

It said much for Holly that she also laughed. "All modern conveniences - self contained!" she replied. I thought that was pretty good for a nine-year-old in the circumstances, and gave her a kiss. "Never mind," I whispered, "I'll get you up for a pee at midnight. Anything to help you stay dry." She kissed me back, and climbed into her bed, lying with one knee bent to accommodate the thickness of her nappy.

Viola returned to the room, took one look at the nappy awaiting her, pulled the booster from within it, and said "No way". I admired her style, and Claire simply said. "O.K. Midnight change if it's needed." Viola then lay down on her nappy, and drew the front up and pinned it herself, then took the pants from Claire and slipped them on. She certainly managed it with a rare panache, and I wondered how much was done for Holly's benefit. Claire inspected her briefly, kissed her and left the room.

Just then William came into the room to say he had found the missing token from Viola's Monopoly set and wanted to give it back to her. I had just picked up the stinking nappy-pail and taken it out of the room out when the tangible silence behind made me turn and look. From the landing I saw William put his arms around Viola and kiss her on the lips, very lightly and quite quickly. She didn't pull away, but stayed there, and then put her arms around him, raised her face, and slowly, very slowly kissed him back. I stood entranced, afraid if I moved at all I would disturb them and break the spell. I could remember my first real kiss, and how the strange enzymes had boiled though my veins and obliterated every other feeling, changing everything I had ever felt, and creating a whole new world. I wouldn't deprive Viola of that sensation for anything.

I waited ten minutes, then I went up again, ostensibly to return the pail. The light was still on in Viola's room, and she was lying in bed, smiling. On the side table there was a small metal shoe. There was no sign of William, although there was a line of light under his bedroom door. She opened her eyes when I went in. I didn't kiss her goodnight; I could never do a better job than William had just done, so I just smiled and turned off the light.

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wow! I loved these chapters a whole lot! So you guys call Santa Father Christmas?

I have never told my children about any Santa or anything like that. i don't feel comfortable telling them things that are not real and making them believe in it. So, they know that there presents are from us. Rather than telling them about a tooth fairy, they give their teeth to use in exchange for money. We save their teeth to remember them. It is fascinating how people do things differently.

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Many thanks for your encouragement; it really helps me to get into writing some more. I fear we are getting close to the logical end of this story, having brought it round in a full generation, but I could be wrong; inspiration can strike at funny moments, which is why I also like to leave a slot - like this - into which I might insert some more later. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Yes, Pollyanna, this side of the pond we have traditionally called him Father Christmas, and he enjoys a parallel development with Santa Claus, who is more Germanic in his roots. Father Christmas is usually portrayed in a long red coat down to the floor, with all the other trimmings in common with Santa. In some of the oldest pictures he is shown as wearing blue and white, which gives away his original identity - Odin - whose colour was blue. Incidentally our royal family goes back to Saxon royalty who claimed descent from Odin, as opposed to Inga, the lesser god who fathered the English. Hence the royals are said to have "blue blood". (Did you see the film "Stardust"?)

Any way, so much for the history lesson. Here's another chapter for you to enjoy!

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Confession time

Late supper of cold turkey was a wholly adult affair, and Gran suggested we observe the old custom of the ladies withdrawing while the gentleman passed the port and talked about man-things. Mum and Claire went to get the coffee, and Emma went to check on the children. The rest of us distributed ourselves around the fireplace in the lounge, Amelia sitting on the rug, and Gran in one of the armchairs. The conversation turned to Men, and Vickie was being questioned about Simon, as being the newest candidate member of the family. I checked on Gran, who was already asleep in her deep armchair, and broached the big subject.

"Did you get the four-poster then?"

Vickie blushed, and giggled. "Of course. A huge one with the full works. At a country house hotel in Dorset. Lovely meal, some really good champagne, and then he undressed me very slowly, kissing me all over." She paused for a moment.

Amelia butted in "Go on, don't leave us in suspenders!"

Vickie went on. "He appeared to know I hadn't done it before, and he actually put a towel down in the bed and then picked me up and lowered me onto it."

"Well he obviously knew what he was doing. Very cool. Weren't you nervous?"

"It was very odd. I was terrified, and my heart was beating so fast, but when I found myself lying there with a towel under my bottom, it all seemed so different. It was just like going to bed in the old days; I felt so warm and secure. I was almost expecting him to rub the ointment all over me, and I think if he had done so and followed it by pulling the towel up between my legs, I would probably have come there and then."

"How was he?"

"Very gentle. I was expecting it to be painful but it wasn't. He was very good, too, and I actually came."

"That's unusual on the first time. He must have been good." said Amelia, whose experience was obviously wider than ours, although she too could only have lost it the once.

"I was left with the thought that one small thing was still missing, though."

"Yes, Dear, all men are like that!" said Amelia.

"No, not that, not that at all. After it was over, I lay there quite still for some time before I worked it out; I was still half-expecting him to pin me up and put my plastic pants on!"

Amelia doubled up with laughter, and I laughed until my vision blurred. Then I checked myself and looked at Gran. She was still fast asleep.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds," said Amelia, "I've had a similar experience. When I was staying here in the summer and was so very depressed, I went up into the attic and found that old trunk. I got out one of the old nappies, took it down to the changing table and put it on. I just needed the security, the comfort of it. I wanted to feel like a little girl again, when everything was so safe and simple."

"Sounds reasonable. Did it work?"

"Yes, it did. I was still lying there in a reverie when Matt came in. The little Filipino maid had opened the door to him, and he had charmed his way past her."

"What did you do then?"

"I panicked! I absolutely froze! What could I do? I was completely caught!"

"What did Matt do?"

"He just came over slowly, picked me up, and kissed me, hard. It was about a minute before I got my wits together again, and by then I had decided that Matt's arms were really quite a nice place to be."

"Didn't he make any remark?"

"No, he just stood there, rocking me gently and stroking me as if I was a frightened rabbit, and I could feel all the tension inside me uncoiling itself. I was actually crying softly. He must have held me there for ages. I forgot all about the nappy, I forgot all about everything; it was just so good to be held in those big strong arms."

"Why did you leave Pembroke?"

"I saw a paparazzo in the driveway. I recognised him, and I think he saw me. Where one goes, more will always follow, like rats. We went out the back door, used that low branch that hangs over the hedge - you know the one?"

"Too well!"

"...and then we made our way up the next garden. Mrs Stuart was rather surprised, but she cottoned on and hid me while Matt fetched his car. Then we went down to his place in deepest Devon, and eventually - they were a good couple of weeks! - to your house in Cornwall."

"What did you do with the nappy?"

"Put it in the bucket, of course. It must have confused poor Claire."

"I suspect Maria emptied the nappy-pail, and thought nothing of it."

"Why didn't you contact us?"

"Those paparazzi have their paid informants absolutely everywhere. It was probably by my ringing friends in London to try and get my clothes that they found out about Pembroke. I couldn't risk it. I wasn't going to leave Matt. Not for anything."

"While we're on the subject of informants," said Vickie with a certain edge in her voice, "How did Simon find out my fantasy about losing my virginity. Come on Juliet, spill!"

"Oh, I admit I had a little chat with him. I thought it was what you wanted, and would save you from some nasty scuffle on a cold, wet beach with some fumbling youth."

"It was what I wanted, but you're getting as just devious and manipulative as Gran you know. " she said, wagging a finger at me.

"Not by a long chalk!" said Gran, still with her eyes closed. "She's a positive beginner compared with me. She needs years more experience yet." We were shocked into silence for a moment. Gran opened her eyes and smiled. "Who do you think it was who telephoned Matt's mother then? If you are ever going to join the Sisterhood of Grannies, then you will have to develop the necessary skills, and do your plotting with a certain élan. There's no point in letting important events just take place by themselves."

"Come on then, Gran. Your turn! How did you lose it?" said Amelia.

"Oh my goodness, child, I couldn't possibly tell you."

"Oh Come On!" we chorused.

"Well it was so different in those days, you see."

"You mean you went on top?" retorted Amelia.

"No Dear, not like that at all." said Gran. "It was all so much more discreet. Jack and I had to book into a hotel near Portsmouth as Mr and Mrs Smith, to be respectable you see. I don't think it fooled anybody, but the Korean War was on and he was under orders to sail, and I was half-afraid I might never see him again. I was doing my bit for my country.. Very furtive. We had to be very quiet. The room was cold, the bed creaked, just a small electric fire, and it was raining hard outside. I don't think either of us really knew what we were doing, but it might have been our only chance. It was a good thing we did."

"Why was that?"

"Well if we hadn't, Pat wouldn't ever have been, and I doubt if the others would ever have happened either."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, dear, if it hadn't been for the armistice and the ship turning back I would have been in a very embarrassing position, to put it mildly! As it was, Jack did the decent thing, and everybody was very understanding. The War had changed things considerably in that respect."

At that moment Mum and Emma came in from the kitchen carrying the coffee trays, and the gentlemen, as always sensitive to the rattle of crockery (as long as it didn't need washing up) rejoined us.

"What was all the laughter about?" said Percy.

"Oh," replied Gran, "We were just talking about children. You know what we women are like."

The men distributed themselves around the room, and I ended up sitting with Gran and Claire, and Claire raised the inevitable subject: toilet-training. Viola was now approaching thirteen, and Claire had tried everything, and was close to despair. "She'll be going up to her new school in September, and I don't think we'll be able to conceal it; it'll be just so restrictive on her social life. I'm desperately worried she will become an outcast or a freak. I've tried everything, and she's dry for the majority of the time, but she's still wet at night so often that I have to keep her in nappies."

Gran gave her reply in measured tones. "I suspect that she's really quite ready, but she's also in a comfort trap. Do you still nappy her at night?"

"If I can. Not because she can't do it herself, these tailored nappies are used specially because they are easy to put on, but it's my one time to get really up close to Viola, to mother her, to give her the attention she needs and to listen to her. My "glittering career" has a cost. I spend far too much time at work when I really should be with my family."

"Is it Viola's only intimate time with you?" asked Gran. For once Claire was silent.

I replied that I knew exactly what she meant. It was quality time, and very intimate. The sensation of wearing a nappy was one of security; nothing could go wrong; the anxiety about wetting the bed could be put on the back shelf and forgotten. It was one of being secure and loved. I remember being jealous of the amount of time and attention baby Amelia received, attention that had formerly been mine alone. That was the comfort trap that Gran had mentioned. I remembered the palaver of having to get up for a pee, then replace the nappy in a leak-proof manner. I said that the discomfort of wetting was so much less than the danger of being without a nappy and wetting the bed. That could result in a thrashing; I didn't mention Gran, but I almost felt her flinch at the memory. I pointed out that if you put more stress on the child they simply wet more. If you tolerated their wetting they simply carried on wetting. There was no easy way out.

"So what makes them ever dry up?" said Claire. "I've tried everything, praise and ridicule, punishment and reward. Nothing works."

"It has to come from inside," said Gran. "there's always a trigger. The problem lies in finding it. Usually it's puberty, and the different self-image it produces. Often it involves a boy, as it did with Juliet....and with me. With Amelia it was bloody-mindedness - something she's always been good at. She had a crush on Peter at the time, as well. With Vickie I think it was sheer intelligence; she recognised the trap she was in and tackled it."

"She told me she had a bet on with the boy in the next bed in hospital. She was absolutely determined to win it and she did. I don't know if the boy ever actually got dry; his injuries were very bad."

Emma spoke. "He did recover, and he's still around, but I don't know about his toilet habits. I think you're right about her; I talked it all over with her and saw her figure it out. She's always been a very sharp cookie, and always up for a bet, especially when she can affect the result." I looked over to the corner where Vickie was canoodling with Simon. I didn't want to interrupt her to raise this subject in front of him. The time was now. I mentioned William and Viola kissing each other. There were a few moments silence while the implications sunk in.

"Well, he's a sly one!" said Emma. "I saw him very close to Viola all afternoon, but I thought they were just concentrating on the game. I didn't realise that he was really chatting her up."

"It can't go anywhere, I mean, they're first cousins, after all."

"Most unlikely to go anywhere. Bristol's a long way from here. Just pretend we haven't noticed, but be sure to arrive with loud footsteps to break anything up before it gets too thick." The remark about loud footsteps took me right back; so Gran had been on to that one as well! I was certainly still learning the subtleties of parenthood from her. "Perhaps you could stay on an extra day or two. Let the situation build a little."

"I'm sure we can. I'll have to keep an eye on that little rascal." said Emma, with a tinge of concern in her voice.

"He's only doing what comes naturally, child, let him have his fun. He has to learn, too." soothed Gran.

"It's what comes naturally that worries me." replied Emma.

"Aren't you more worried about Vickie?" I asked.

"In a way, yes. Not that I doubt her ability to control that aspect of the situation, I sometimes wonder if poor Simon stands a chance. I'm more worried about her going to Cambridge; she seems to be much more interested in going with Simon. Even so, she seems to have been less happy recently."

"I'm sure the will manage to do both, if we support her. She will require somewhere to meet Simon at weekends...."

"I'm sure that can be arranged." said Claire. I could believe it. She had always been very good to both Vickie and Amelia. And me too, come to think of it. We had stayed with them in their London flat many times en route to and from Cornwall.

"We'd always be pleased to see her in Cornwall." I said, throwing in my three ha'pence. I meant it. Vickie was always good company.

"So, if we've got one line aboard Viola, how do we tackle Holly?" said Gran. "I know you won't try to coerce her, that's never been your style."

"I'm certainly not going to try humiliation. Too many side effects. She's dangerously low on self-esteem as it is." I thought of the nappy change this afternoon, and suddenly felt rather ashamed of myself. She did look cute in those frilly pants, but they were also very babyish. I also realised that I might miss out on something if Holly finally got dry, but I suppressed the thought; it would be terribly selfish to keep Holly in nappies because I wanted a little baby girl for a bit longer. If she were to get dry, then something would have to come from inside me as well.

"You might make a game of it. Or try a bet." suggested Claire. "She's very competitive; we all saw how she would rather wet herself than risk losing out at Monopoly."

"Viola did the same." I retorted.

"Perhaps we could play them off one against the other?" murmured Gran. "Holly does seem to try to catch up with Viola all the time. Not unreasonably. Perhaps we could tell the one that the other is getting dry, and vice-versa?" I listened carefully. It was the best suggestion yet; Holly was always up for a challenge or a bet, and this afternoon had shown how competitive the two of them were.

"How will you manage the downside if one of them loses?" asked Claire.

"I think I can manage Holly. She's only nine, after all. Plenty of time to go. I think we can distract her that amount. Unfortunately there's no prospect of a man to fire her up at that age."

Midnight came, and the aged grandparents took the even-more aged great-grandparents back to their home. Matt and Amelia went back with Mum and Dad, and the party broke up. We could fairly say that we had celebrated Christmas day to the full.

I looked in on the children, and paused for a moment over Holly. My feelings were mixed. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly that she barely stirred when I checked her nappy. It was so tempting to leave her there, and accept that she would be soaked in the morning, but I had made a promise to her, and I felt I should keep it. The thought occurred to me, that if there was to be a competition, I would do my very best to see that Holly won it. Getting her up to pot her had been abandoned many years ago as totally ineffective in terms of drying her out, but very effective in wearing my temper to the bone through lack of sleep. Perhaps we should start again: this time with a real incentive to goad Holly into getting control of her bladder. I picked her up, and, despite the groans and curses (wherever did she learn such language?) drove her down the passageway to the toilet to do her business. I even managed to get her back into bed without waking Viola. Perhaps I should have potted Viola too, but that really was Claire's job, and Claire was tired enough to drop. Unsporting of me perhaps, but all's fair in love and toilet-training.

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I have just read Confession time, very good I am really pleased that you wrote this and totally understand that like

most things you can't go on forever, but I have enjoyed it so much, you have a great style when you write stories that is easy to read and I get involved with what you write, you set a scene well.

As you said you have come full circle to the next generation and it will be difficult to carry on without a certain amount or repatition, but

i would like to hear the outcome of the comptition between the young girlsand I Juliet replaces her nuturing need with what I think she will-lol.

Anyways, Thanks for the story, would make a great film with the right actors and directors, but I doubt that would ever happen and probibly would not be a good as the book-lol- JDK.

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