The Fairy Godmother Part 69

Georgie, Juliet and I were sat outside a run down office in a very run down part of town waiting to talk to the editor/owner of one of the rivals to the magazine a week after we first hatched the plan.

“Can you tell me again, what are we doing here?” asked Juliet.

“It’s very simple,” I said. “The magazine needs to have a rival, something that will take readers away from them.”

“And you think this bunch could do it?” asked Georgie, looking round at the piles of dust and flaking paint. If they had a cleaner, there wasn’t much evidence that they did any work.

“They just need a few ideas,” I said.

“They need a firework up their,” Georgie was saying when the ancient secretary walked in.

“The Editor will see you now,” she said, opening a door and ushering us in.

“Good afternoon ladies,” said an old gentleman. “Charles, could you get some chairs for the ladies,” he said to a young man sitting to one side of him.

“Yes, Granddad,” he said his face lighting up when he saw Georgie and Juliet.

“Now what can I do for you?” he asked when we had sat down.

“I think it’s a case of what we can do for you,” I said.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

“A short time ago the photographer of this magazine,” Juliet said, holding up the edition of the magazine with the photos from the book shop in. “Came to the shop I was working in, locked me out and proceeded to trash the place in the process of taking these photos.”

“I would never do such a thing,” the editor replied.

“Of course not,” I said. “That is because you are a gentleman.”

“And much good it is doing us,” said Charles.

“We think this magazine needs taking down a peg or ten, they need to know that they can’t go round doing things like this,” said Georgie.

“I don’t see how we can help you,” said the editor.

“We need to hit them where it hurts,” I said. “We need to take away their readers.”

“That would be very painful to them,” said the editor.

“We should know that,” said Charles wistfully.

“What can we do to help?” asked the editor.

“We need to put a rival magazine on the newsagents shelves,” I said. “Something to make the readers look and swap their allegiance.”

“And how are we going to do that?” asked the editor.

“Look at the photos taken in the book shop,” I said. “The models don’t even have the books the right way up. In this one she is pulling the books off the shelf and dropping them to the floor with little regard to the damage she is causing. Anyone who has any love of reading would cringe when they saw these photos, but the person taking them didn’t even think that would be a problem, obviously he doesn’t have any great expectations on the intellect of his readers.”

“I don’t see how this can help us,” said Charles.

“We appeal to the intellect of the readers,” I replied.

“We show that a woman can have brains without any loss of femininity,” said Juliet.

“I like the idea,” said the editor. “But how are we going to get them to pick the magazine up in the first place?”

“We need a front cover that stands out, even next to that one,” I replied.

“That could be a problem,” said the editor.

“The photographer left a couple of months ago and took his models with him,” said Charles. “Not that they were very good.”

“Were these the models?” Juliet asked holding up an old copy of their magazine.

“The current fashions don’t do them any favours,” I said. “Or at least not the ones they’ve been dressed up in.”

“It’s hard to think of what would,” said Charles.

“I didn’t see you telling them that,” said the editor.

“I like living,” Charles replied.

“We need to show fashion as inclusive and not only those who conform to the current idea of the body beautiful,” I said. “So we will be bringing these ladies back to show the readers that everyone can look good and we will show them how.”

“I like the idea of this,” said the editor. “But we only have money for one more edition.”

“I’m sorry to say, but he’s right,” said Charles.

“How many people know this?” I asked.

“Just the bank, at the moment,” said the editor.

“So don’t tell anyone,” I said.

“I’m not likely to go out shouting it in the streets,” said the editor.

“This edition will be like a great explosion on the newsagents shelves. It will shout read me to everyone who sees it,” I said.

“Going out with a blaze of glory,” said Charles.

“If this works you will have advertisers queuing up to place adverts in your next magazine,” I replied.

“And if it doesn’t?” asked Charles.

“We will go out with a bang and not a whimper,” said the editor, leaping to his feet. “I like this, I like this a lot.”

The next two weeks we worked harder than I would have thought possible. The book shop owner gave us permission to take photo’s there, whilst the girls were working, on the provisor that no books were damaged in the process. Charles did the photographs and he was surprisingly good at it, then again, he did seem to have a soft spot for Georgie.

The front page had a photo of Juliet handing a book to Georgie, obviously deep in conversation about it and they where holding it the right way up. To add to the authenticity of the scene, they were both wearing glasses, their clothes were simple, but flattering, no great displays of jewellery or make-up, everything understated but elegant. The magazine contained articles on being comfortable with your body image, dressing to make you feel good, fashion that doesn't cost the earth. By the time we had finished it, we were exhausted, but happy that this was the best we could do, at the moment. We watched as the magazines were printed and then loaded onto vans for delivery.

“This time tomorrow we will either be celebrating victory or drowning our sorrows,” said the editor.

“I think it is tomorrow,” said Charles.

“I need to sleep,” said Georgie.

“I think we all do,” said the editor. “I’ll just finish off here, you get off home.”

“I’d take you home,” said Charles, looking at his grandfather disappearing off into the building.

“We understand,” I said. “We will be fine getting home by ourselves.”

“If you are sure?” he said.

“Certain,” I smiled and he headed off after the editor.

“So how do you propose to get us home?” asked Juliet yawning.

“I am your Fairy Godmother,” I smiled and waved my wand.

“You are good,” said Georgie as we appeared in the living room of their flat.

“Good night,” I said and vanished.

By Janice Nye © 2020