Ben carries Alexander toward my bed. ‘Nope, my adoption mum said seven thirty.’

‘Arghhhh.’ Alexander wriggles in Ben’s arms and drop down next to me, immediately snuggling under the covers, and then Ben sits down next to him against the headboard.

‘Ugh. Alexander is annoying,’ I say, but I’m sort of grinning too. I curled up under the duvet.

‘Couldn’t you stay in your own beds?’

‘Just doing our job,’ Ben smiles. ‘Are you listening to Radio 4? What’s with the church music?’

‘I don’t think I can deal with it at this time of the morning.’

Ben laughs. ‘Me neither,’ Like Alexander, his hair is sticking up from his forehead. He’s got purple circles under his eyes and I can’t remember what he looks without them any more. Aside from that, he looks almost his normal self, all long-limbed and gentle.

‘I only slept for like two hours,’ I say

‘Same,’ he says, but I think lack of sleep might be from different reasons to mine.

‘How many presents does Father Christmas give you when you’re two?’ asks Alexander, who’s now standing up on my bed and trampling over the duvet. Ben and I laugh.

‘Two,’ says Ben decisively. ‘The same as the number of years you’ve been live.’

‘So …when I’m eighty, I’ll get eighty presents?’

Ben prods Alexander in the chest and he falls over with a wide smile. ‘Only if you’ve been good!’ 

‘I can’t wait till I’m eighty,’ says Alexander.

‘Me neither,’ says Ben.