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Sunday 5 January 2020

The Fairy Godmother Part 22



It was 12th Night and apart for a persistent cough I was pretty much over my cold or whatever it was that I had and was beginning to feel board.
“You’ll get bed sores lying around like that,” said Enid. I looked up and she was standing at the foot of my bed. I didn’t remember hearing anyone come in, but then she is the Head Fairy.
“I was told to stay here and get better,” I said.
“You’ve done as much of that as you’re going to do here,” she said. “There’s work to do and it’s time to get on with it.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” I said.
“Well you’re hearing about it now,” she replied. “You’ve got five minutes to get up and ready.”
“Or else?” I asked.
“You’ll go as you are,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.” With a wave of her wand she was gone.
“When am I going to get my wand back,” I asked.
“When you deserve it,” the words echoed back to me.


Five minutes later I opened the door of my room to find myself on a snowy lane in the middle of nowhere, the sun was setting and I was glad that I had wrapped up warm.
“The Christmas decorations in the orphanage have to be down by midnight,” Enid said. “But most of the children are ill and the staff are too busy looking after them.”
“Couldn’t they just turn the lights off or something?” I asked.
“It’s a simple job,” said Enid. “But if it’s beneath you.”
“No,” I said quickly. I thought it was the sort of thing an apprentice got given, but then, there was probably more to it than met the eye.
“Right then, we need to get on with it,” said Enid. “This isn’t the only job we have to do before midnight.”
“After you,” I said following Enid to a small out house.
“We’ll start with the garden lights,” she said looking at a large box that all the leads seemed to be heading towards.
“Do we need to take those lights down?” I asked.
“Why?” asked Enid.
“Turning the lights out will be simple. Taking the lights down, that could take more time than we have,” I said.
“I think some of these are left up all year, they just turn them on for Christmas,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure how to get into the box to turn them off.”
“You don’t get into that box,” I said. “You follow this cable to the socket that all this lot is plugged into and turn that one off.”
“And that does what?” asked Enid as I followed the cable to an external socket, lifted the waterproof cover and flicked the switch.
“It does that,” I replied as the garden was plunged into darkness.
“Now we can get into the main building unobserved,” Enid replied, no thanks for making the job quicker.
“Should we start at the top and work down or start at the bottom and work up?” I asked.
“Start in the quieter parts,” said Enid. “There will be a lot of people wandering around, we can’t let them see us.”
“That’s going to be a bit difficult,” I said.
“It has to be this way,” she replied. “And everything needs boxing up and putting away in the attic.”
“Just the two of us?” I asked.
“If it’s too much for you I’ll do it myself,” she said.
“No,” I said, following her up to the top floor. With one word the tinsel unwrapped itself from the bed frames and picked itself up from the shelves and other surfaces and snaked it’s way across the room to a box which had taken itself out of a cupboard. Then the decorations on the tree jumped off and headed towards another box, whilst the tree made it’s way to the stairs.
“This is a lot simpler than I thought,” I said. “You don’t really need me.”
“Your job is to put a present next to each person, just a little extra,” said Enid. “Your work as a tooth fairy should make that easy.”
“I don’t have to put them under their pillows?” I asked, taking the small sack she handed to me.
“On the bedside cabinets,” said Enid smiling and checking the floor for stray bits of tinsel and pine needles.
The last room to clear was sick bay.
“This is going to be difficult,” said Enid as we stood by the door. “A variety of coughs were coming from inside the room, but one of them was slightly more worrying than the others.
“Someone is in a bad way,” I said looking through the glass panel in the door, there were curtains around one of the beds and people talking in hushed tones.
“We can’t interfere,” said Enid.
“You don’t believe that,” I replied.
“We are told,” she started.
“As a Fairy Godmother, I go to people, interfere in their lives and make them better people, it’s what I do, why is this any different?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” said Enid. “It just is.”
“She’s burning up,” said someone. “We need to reduce her temperature.”
“But how?” asked another person.
“She should be in a hospital,” said a third person.
“The phones are down and there is no way to get a message through,” said the first.
“If we had ice cubes,” the second person said.
“The fridge and freezer have both died,” said the first person.
“So we either get ice cubes or an ambulance,” said Enid.
“I’d say both,” I replied. “Ice cubes now to start the cooling whilst they are waiting for the ambulance to get here.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Enid asked.
“There is a van delivering ice cubes, along the main road that goes past the end of this road,” I said.
“So?” asked Enid.
“Have his sat nav send him down here and then pack in just by the end of the drive. He’s on his way back to base, which is next door to the hospital,” I replied.
“Are you suggesting he takes her, on the ice, to the hospital?” Enid asked.
“It would work,” I said.
“And we could deny any responsibility,” Enid said with a wave of her wand.
“Who’s ringing the door bell at this time of night?” asked the first person.
“I’ll go and see,” said the second.
“Hello,” said the person at the door. “I deliver ice and I’ve got lost on my way back to base.”
“And where is base?” he was asked.
“Across the road from the hospital,” he said.
“Do you have any ice left?” he was asked.”
“A few bags,” he replied. “Someone over ordered.”
“We have a sick child, she has a fever,” he was told. “She should be in the hospital.”
“I couldn’t take her by herself, but if you’d like to come with her,” he said looking hopefully. “Then we just have to find our way there.”
“I know the way,” she replied. “Come in, I’ll have to talk to my superiors.”


Ten minutes later the little girl was on her way and all was quiet in the last room.
“Now we can get the decs down,” I said.
“Don’t forget a present next to her bed,” said Enid.
“Of course not,” I said, standing next to her bed, present in hand. “Will she be OK?
Enid sighed and waved her wand and we were in the back of the ice van.
“How is she?” the driver asked.
“She seems a little more settled,” he was told. “Her temperature has stabilised.”
“That has to be a good thing?” he asked.
“Very,” he was told. “We should be at the hospital soon. This is very good of you to help out.”
“It’s OK, you knew the way back and I’m hopeless at following directions,” he replied.
“Take a right here,” she said.
“That’s an example, left to myself I’d have gone straight on, then again I probably wouldn’t have got here in the first place,” he said turning right as directed.
“The entrance to the hospital is on the right near here,” she said mopping her patients forehead.
“I see it,” he said, pulling off the road and stopping next to the entrance.
“This is for emergencies,” said someone stepping out of the shadows.
“We have a very sick little girl in the back,” said the driver hopping out to open the doors.
“I’ll get a trolley,” said someone.
It all happened so quickly, the girl and her carer were rushed away into the hospital and the man took his van back to the base.
“Our work is done,” said Enid.
“No it isn’t,” I said holding out the present.
“We shall follow,” said Enid and with a wave of her wand we were sitting next to the girl’s bed in a high dependency ward with machines bleeping away all around her.
“How are we going to get it to her?” I asked. The room is packed and the lights are so bright.
“We’ll just have to wait our moment,” said Enid. “Or rather you will. I have a few more jobs to do. I’ll be back when I’ve finished.” And with that she vanished.
“Do you mind if I stay with her?” asked the carer.
“Wouldn’t you rather be off home?” the nurse asked.
“There’s no one there and I’d not rest if I didn’t know how she was,” she added looking at the girl.
“It’s OK by me,” said the nurse. “If anything changes ring the bell, I’ll be here.”
“Will she be OK?” the carer asked quietly.
“If she gets through tonight, maybe,” said the nurse.


That was the longest night in my whole life. I was beginning to think that it would go on forever, but gradually the world outside began to get lighter and the sun rose, not exactly bright, rather cloudy in fact, but it rose. The little girl opened her eyes and looked around.
“Where am I?” she asked her carer.
“You are very sick, so we took you to the hospital,” she was told.
Then the Doctor came in to check up on her.
“You are a very lucky little girl,” he said when he saw her sitting up.
“Will she be OK?” asked the carer.
“She’s over the worst,” the Doctor said. “Though we will have to keep her here for a while, just in case.”
“So,” said Enid, sitting beside me on the curtain rail. “Have you delivered her present?”
“I did that a while back,” I said, pointing to the parcel on the bedside cabinet.
“So how come you are still here?” Enid asked.
I wanted to know that she was over the worst and that she had her present,” I replied.
“The Doctor said she was over the worst,” Enid said.
“But they are keeping her in for a few days, just in case,” I reminded her.
“Fine!” Enid sniffed. “Ring me when you you’ve finished, but you can explain the delay to the Head of the Fairy Council.” And with that she was gone.

By Janice Nye © 2020

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