SANTA'S LITTLE IMPS

Robin (that's my brother) and I always had this theory that we were adopted, because we had nothing in common with our parents - especially not with Gerald "I'm-the-world's-most-boring-and-pompous-person" Pemberley, our supposed father.

I don't remember how old we were the first time we asked where our "real parents" were; about five, probably. Mummy replied, "Daddy and I are your real parents." and that was that, as far as she was concerned. Not for us, though.

When we were about twelve or thirteen, we read a book on genetics (we were always precocious), from which we learned the interesting fact that dark eyes are a dominant trait: it is scientifically impossible for two blue-eyed people ( like Mummy and Gerald) to have dark-eyed children.

Different-sex twins are not supposed to be identical, but Robin and I have the same thick, curly hair, the same nose, mouth, chin, eyes. Ah yes, the eyes: "like stars reflected in a midnight pool" to quote one of my admirers. In other words, dark - really dark, the sort of eyes called "black", which I've always thought silly, because it sounds as though somebody's been knocking you about. Actually, our eyes are a very dark brown.

Armed with the genetics textbook, we confronted Mummy, and once again, she brushed us aside: "Don't be silly, Darlings." When we persisted, she showed us our birth certificates: "Robin/ Melissa Pemberley, Mother Monica, Father Gerald."

The idea of Gerald being our actual father sent us into a depression that lasted until we learned more about the facts of life (from watching soap operas, mostly) and decided that Mummy must have committed adultery. Granted, it was hard to imagine our mother actually doing THAT, but better Mummy as a tart that Gerald as a dad.

Time passed, and then one day, when we were seventeen, I went to the hairdresser, picked up an old PEOPLE magazine, and there, on page 38, saw a whacking great photo of Robin as an old man (assuming he's going to grow a beard and wear his hair in a ponytail)! "BACK FROM THE DEAD" said the article, "Thirteen months after his supposed death in an explosion, Carl Hutchins was found wandering the beach at Key West by his wife, Rachel Cory Hutchins. The CEO of

Cory Publishing was suffering from amnesia, following the removal of a brain tumour..."

I stuffed the magazine into my purse and ran for the nearest telephone.

"I've found our father!" I told Robin.

Our first impulse was to take one of Gerald's credit cards and head for Key West, but then we decided to do some research first. This was a good thing, because it turned out that our putative Dad didn't live in Key West ( which is in Florida, the bit that sticks out at the bottom right-hand side of the map of America) but in Bay City, Illinois, which is in the middle of the country, close to the big lakes.

"Chicago seems to be the nearest big airport." said Robin, studying the atlas.

"Right." I said, "You pack; I'll go nick Gerald's American Express card." (It seemed appropriate.)

From Chicago, we were able to get a flight to Bay City, arriving on a blustery December day.

Once we had taken care of basic needs: hotel room, rental car - thank you, Gerald! - we headed for the nearest mall to buy warmer clothes. We were dressed adequately for winter in London, but winter in Bay City was a different matter entirely.

Robin and I had gotten seperated amid the crowds of Christmas shoppers; I was coming out of a boutique with an armful of parcels, looking around for my brother instead of where I was going, when I ran full tilt into a plump blonde lady, similarly laden, with the result that all the parcels went flying.

"Oh! Pardon me!" I said, "It was my fault!"

I started gathering things up.

"I think this is yours - and this -"

She was staring at me, mouth open, eyes wide : "You - " she said, "You look just like - "

I panicked; I shoved the rest of her parcels at her, and took to my heels.

"Oh, there you are!" said Robin, "Come and see this super -"

"Watch it!" I said, "There's a woman here who knows CH!"

(That was how we had decided to refer to Carl Hutchins. "Mr Hutchins" seemed a trifle formal, under the circumstances, and "Our father" entirely too Biblical.)

"Where is she?" said Robin, craning his neck.

"I think I lost her." I said, "What was it you wanted me to see?"

"It's a shop called I SPY." he said, "They sell all sorts of surveillance equipment."

(We had agreed not to approach CH directly until we had reconnoitred. After all, we couldn't just march up to a complete stranger and say: "Hello! We're your bastards!")

Left to himself, Robin would have bought I SPY's entire stock. (Boys do love their toys.) I managed to restrain him, so we bought only those items which might actually prove useful.

Then it was just a matter of finding a telephone book, looking up CH's address, locating it on a map of Bay City obtained at a petrol station, and driving over there (remembering to drive on the right-hand side of the road).

CH lived in a large house, set in substantial grounds (30 acres of them, we found our later.)

Having gotten as far as the front gate, neither of us knew what to do next. We sat there, looking up the driveway.

"Shall we introduce ourselves?" said Robin.

"Not yet." I said, "According to the map, there's a service road that should get us closer to the house."

We located it, parked behind some bushes, and crept towards the house, keeping to cover. Then, suddenly -

"Cory! Elizabeth!" called a voice."Where are you ?"

"Oh God, it's him!"

There, chasing after two small children (one in a pink snowsuit, the other in a blue one) was the object of our obsession, CH himself. He had shaved off the beard, but still had the ponytail.

He and the children were playing a version of hide-and-go-seek: they would 'hide' behind a bush, and he would s-l-o-w-l-y turn around and say :"I see you!"; then they would all laugh.

Gerald never played any games with us, when we were that age. Watching it, I started to get a strange feeling, as if Robin and I WERE those two children. How would it have been, having a father who loved us?

Finally, CH said: "Let's go back to the house for hot chocolate." It sounded good to Robin and me, but we weren't invited. Cory and Elizabeth took the hands he held out to them, and the three of them headed towards the house.

"Do you wish -?" said Robin.

"Yes." I said, "But what's the use of wishing?"

To be continued.