This is another one I started last year then lost direction. When I picked it up a couple of days ago, the way ahead opened up quite quickly and this is the result.

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“Dear Santa,

“I hope you are well and that the weather at the North Pole is fine. I have tried to be very good this year and my mummy says I should ask for the thing I want most of all in the world this year, so I think she thinks the same.

“I'm sure she's thinking I will ask for a bike, and I do really want one of those, so maybe that would be good if that's the best you can do.

“What I really, really want though, and please, you mustn’t tell my mummy and super especially not my daddy, what I really, really want is to be a princess, like Elsa or Aurora or Cinderella, but not Ariel, because I don’t think I would want to have a fish’s tail.

“I don’t want just to have a costume like they have in the Disney store because they don’t feel very nice and they don’t look quite right.

“I don’t need to have special powers like Elsa, except that would be really cool if I could, and I don’t have to be the fairest in the land like Snow White. I just want to be pretty and to be able to be kind to everyone I meet. I don’t like playing football, but would very much like to dance until I am giddy, and to feel safe in the arms of a handsome prince.

“I know I am asking a lot and that not many people get to be princesses for real, so I will understand if this is a present I can’t have. It’s just that Mummy said I should ask for what I want most of all and this is it.

“If I can’t have it, something else I would like better than a bike is just to be a girl, but I think maybe this might be impossible too. I know you can make wishes come true, Santa, and I wish, I wish, I so very, very wish that you could do this for me, but I will understand if you cannot, and I will be very happy to have a bike.

“I hope you don’t get a bad tummy ache from eating too many mince pies. My brother did so I hope you are okay. Give Rudolph a hug from me as well as Dasher and Dancer and all the others.

“Love,

“Jimmy”

Marilyn put the letter down on the table beside her and pulled a tissue from her sleeve. She could hardly see for the tears, but fortunately it was a fresh tissue and up to the task. She felt horribly guilty at having read the letter, but that was part of how the magic of Christmas happened, wasn’t it? Her son was almost at an age where he would stop believing in Father Christmas, and she had wanted the magic to survive for just one more year. James was such a sweet boy, unlike his older brother. The two were like chalk and cheese, or more likely sweet and sour. Not that there was anything wrong with George, but he was so much more of a boy. So much more into mischief. Like the incident with the mince pies, part of his teasing his brother, saying Santa would be upset because they hadn’t left him one.

George had only been teasing so much because she’d insisted he not say anything to undermine his brother’s wavering belief in the seasonal spirit. His over-indulgence in the mince pies had resulted in an afternoon groaning in his room and had not achieved its desired effect since she’d been able to cook up a fresh batch before George had recovered.

Overall, George wasn’t a problem. He was his own worst enemy much of the time and ended up succeeding in punishing himself when his plans went awry.

James was very much a different issue. Compounding her guilt was the realisation that she’d have to betray her son’s confidence even further and discuss the letter with her husband. She wasn’t at all sure how Brian would react, but this was something they couldn’t ignore.

Brian sat staring at the letter, his expression unreadable. He sat in silence for so long Marilyn began to wonder if she’d been wise to show it to him. She reached the limit of her patience.

“I thought I might see if I could do something with my old wedding dress,” she said. “There must be yards of it, and I have a few scraps of coloured silk lying about, I’m sure I could make something fit for a princess.”

“Not your wedding dress.” Brian’s first words since she’d broached the subject.

“Why not? It’s not as if it’ll ever fit me again, and it’s not as if I have a daughter to pass it onto. If I wait for a granddaughter, it’ll be so old…”

“It’ll probably be back in fashion. No, you’re not touching your wedding dress. Leave this with me.” He stood up, taking the letter with him. His face remained as expressionless as ever and Marilyn couldn’t shake a sense of worry.

She did what she could over the next few days, but with the boys underfoot during the day and Brian occupying her attention in the evening, she had little enough time to make use of her sewing machine. She did find a couple of floral summer dresses she hadn’t worn in several years and cut them up to make a number of dresses and skirts in her son’s size. Cotton wasn’t silk, but she agreed with James that anything would be better than the cheap polyester of the Disney store costumes. She’d paused several times to stroke the smooth silk of her old wedding dress, the sensation drawing her into the magic of her memories. At first she’d been angry at Brian's refusal to let her make use of it, but it hadn’t taken more than the first trip to Nostalgiaville to convince her he’d been right.

The clothes she’d manage to make for her son were not fit for a princess, but they were better than nothing, and might make up for whatever she was afraid Brian was planning. He’d been quiet since the evening she’d shown him the letter and refused to be drawn into a discussion about what it might mean. She hoped he’d at least allow their son to enjoy Christmas before doing whatever he had in mind.

Christmas Eve came and the boys settled early, at least as well as any preteens will on the night before Christmas. This would most likely be the last year James would heed the dire warnings of what might happen should he still be awake when Santa arrive. George, meanwhile, succumbed to a mixture of threat and bribery.

Brian was waiting in the living room with a couple of mugs of tea when she descended the stairs. She settled on the sofa beside him and accepted hers with a grateful smile.

This was the eye of the storm: the short reprieve between the maelstrom of overexcited children and the madness of last minute wrapping. It had settled into something of a tradition where they took a half hour relaxing before facing the final mad rush to get the tree ready for the morning.

“Stockings?” Brian asked. His part of the tradition involved going through the checklist.

“Already done. I’ll take them up in a while.”

It had to be said, stockings were an important part of Christmas. The boys could open them as soon as they woke up and in exchange they were expected not to disturb their parents until at least eight o’clock.

“Turkey?”

“Out and thawing. It’ll be ready to go in first thing. Crackers?”

“In the cupboard under the stairs. Christmas pudding?”

“A bit late to be asking about that now, but yes, sitting to one side and ready to cook. Brandy butter’s made and in the fridge too.”

The exchange carried on for several more minutes before tapering off. Marilyn snuggled into her husband’s side. It took her a while to build up her courage.

“What are we going to do about Jimmy?”

“I told you I’d sort it. I have.”

“What have you sorted?”

“That’s for tomorrow. Ready for a bit more wrapping?”

She sighed. There was no reasoning with him when he set his mind to something. If he wasn’t ready to say anything then wild horses wouldn’t make a difference. She only hoped what he had planned wouldn’t be too harsh.

The magic of Christmas inevitably died, but the manner of its passing could be controlled and no-one deserved to see their dreams meet a violent end, especially at such a young age.

She helped her husband bring out the last of the presents from under the stairs. Some were already wrapped, like James’s bike, which Brian tucked behind the tree. Others needed their combined efforts. She set to with a will. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could get to bed. Even if the boys kept to their room till eight o’clock, Christmas was always a long day.

They finished shortly before midnight having paused for a couple of tea breaks. Brian poured them a couple of glasses of sherry and they toasted in the arrival of Christmas. Marilyn collected the stockings to take up to the boys’ bedroom while Brian took a bite out of Santa’s mince pie and Rudolph’s carrot. Santa’s glass of sherry went the way of the one he’d just enjoyed before he turned off the lights – except for the Christmas Tree lights – and headed upstairs.

It was some time later, with the whole house silent and in darkness that that a scrabbling noise came from the chimney.

“Another one!” said a querulous voice. “Why do people insist on leaving empty sherry glasses and half eaten mince pies these days?”

It didn’t matter. He didn’t have to make so many stops any more, with unbelief overwhelming belief and parents taking over the role of gift giving. He’d be home before he was too hungry. In the meantime, there were a few individuals who still merited his personal attention.

The shadowy figure paused long enough to leave a single small parcel under the tree before making his escape, leaving a solitary sooty footprint in the hearth.

“Santa’s been! Santa’s been!” The excited squeal came accompanied by a vigorous bouncing on the bed. Marilyn glanced over at the clock beside her bed. It read half past six. She pushed the hair out of her eyes and sat up in her bed. Brian lay still beside her, but he wouldn’t be for long if the child-quake continued at its current magnitude. She reached out a hand and stilled her youngest son.

“I tried to stop him.” George’s self-satisfied smirk made a lie of his words.

“James, George, it’s too early. Please, haven’t you opened your stockings yet?”

“Ages ago.” George’s grin widened.

“Well, go and play with your toys for a while longer. You’ll want your dad in a good mood today.”

“But…”

“Please James. It’s much too early.”

“But he’s been, Mummy. I want to see if he got my letter.”

“Just… Just give me half an hour kids. I’ll get some breakfast together, then we’ll see. George, take your brother back to your room and keep him there till I come and fetch you.”

George was sensible enough to wipe the smile off his face and do as he was told. James wasn’t in trouble as he’d hoped and from the way his mum was twitching her eyebrow, it seemed more likely he was.

Marilyn lay back down and closed her eyes. She snuggled up Against her husband’s back and let her mind relax.

“Thanks for that,” Brian rumbled without moving.

“You're awake?”

“Not sure. Haven't decided yet.”

“We’re not going to have much peace now, you know that?”

“I know.” He twisted around to face her. “I suppose we should get up then.”

“Ten more minutes.”

A loud thump came from the room next-door followed by a yelp of protest.

“Five then.”

Breakfast was more of a delaying tactic than a meal. Marilyn was able to maintain something less than order but significantly more than mayhem for the ten minutes it took Brian to conjure up a couple of mugs of coffee. Proper, strong and fully leaded as the circumstances required. George put away a whole slice of toast, while James managed a whole mouthful, which both parents considered to be a minor miracle. Adequately caffeinated, they led their children through to the living room and the immense pile of presents burying the tree. Family tradition managed to hold a while longer as the two boys set about their assigned task of distributing gifts. Halfway through, James discovered the obviously bike shaped present with his name on it. Young children are an open book when it comes to emotions and Marilyn could clearly see both the excitement and disappointment in her son's eyes. She glanced across at her husband but he wasn't giving anything away.

All of a sudden George started laughing. He waited until James was looking at him questioningly before trying to say anything.

“Hey James,” he said, barely able to contain his laughter. “How come Santa gave you a girl’s bike?”

“What do you mean?” James’s eyes were suddenly alive with mixed suspicion and hope.

“It doesn't have a thingy, a bar in the middle... here.” He indicated the space between the saddle and the handlebars.

Marilyn shot a glance across at her husband who was busy reaching into James’s pile of gifts. “Maybe you should start with this one,” he said holding out quite a large, flat package. “George, come over here a minute.”

George did as he was told and stood listening to his father murmuring into his ear while James tore into the first of his presents.

“What? No way!” James beamed as he pulled out beautiful, powder blue dress very much in his size. “Mummy, look! Can I put it on now? Please?”

He was bubbling over with an effervescent ecstasy that was impossible to ignore. Marilyn gave her husband an oddly confused look, which he returned with the gentlest of nods. George’s own confusion mirrored her own, which suggested that, even with just one present opened, now might be a good time to take a break. Brian pointed out one or two more parcels from James’s stash, indicating that she should take them as well. She picked them up and exited the room, ushering her youngest child ahead of her.

The additional parcels turned out to contain matching shoes and accessories. James wasn’t entirely sure what they were all for until his mum showed him, and with each embellishment, the rapture in his eyes soared higher.

Including taking the time to brush her son's hair into something approaching a pixie cut, and to apply a minimum of makeup, mother and son – or perhaps daughter – were ready to return to living room after about ten minutes.

Marilyn couldn't get over the exquisite quality of the dress, or how completely it seemed to transform her son. It looked and felt like the sort of thing a princess would genuinely wear, and the minute he had it on, James began to act differently. The excitement remained in his eyes, but somehow he’d reined in the boisterous enthusiasm and instead moved with a poise and grace he'd never shown before.

Back with the others, Marilyn noted the subdued look on her other son's face and the sense of satisfaction radiating from her husband. She twitched an eyebrow and he smiled. “Tell you later,” he mouthed and the gift opening continued.

Both James and George’s reserved manner continued through the remainder of the gift opening, James hiding his excitement and delight under a layer of decorum while George's was overshadowed by uncertainty and confusion. The last gift to be opened was James’s new bike. One of his other gifts had been a basket that fit onto the handlebars. Brian clipped this into place while James stepped through the gap in the middle and settled himself onto the saddle. He was allowed a very short pedal inside the house before Brian suggested that he should go out for a ride later. James was thrilled by the idea, but neither Marilyn nor her other son seemed so convinced.

“I’d better get lunch started,” she announced. It was early still, which meant lunch would likely be ready at an earlier time than usual, but that could only be a good thing.

“I’ll help you,” Brian said. “You kids’ll be alright, won't you? George, I'm counting on you to behave, okay?”

George nodded. For the first time in living memory he regarded his sibling with something other than gentle malice.

In the kitchen Marilyn turned on her husband. “Would you mind telling me what that was about? Exactly why does or youngest son have more girl toys than boy?”

Brian took hold of her by the shoulders and smiled at her. “I told you I'd handle it, didn't I?”

“Yes but...”

“It’s an experiment, love. He was either going to get fed up with all the girl stuff pretty quickly, or she,” he emphasized the pronoun gently, “would flourish and grow as we've seen.”

“And if he hadn’t?”

“Then I have a few things hidden away for him. As it is, I don't think we'll need them.”

“I thought...”

“You thought I was going to behave like my parents, narrow minded bigots that they are. I can't say I blame you, but I'm not them.”

“That dress...”

“What can I say? I know a guy. When I told him what it was about and that you'd said you were prepared to sacrifice your wedding dress, he put everything else he was working on to one side until he'd finished it, then pretty much insisted I take it as a gift from him to James.”

“I don't know what to say...”

“I don't know, you seem to be doing pretty well. Shouldn't we be doing something to a turkey?”

She opened the oven door and he hauled out the immense bird. The oven went on to preheat and Marilyn busied herself with all the minutiae of preparing their lunch. Brian set about preparing the sprouts and they worked side by side in silence for a while.

“Are you really okay with this?” she asked him.

“Why shouldn't I be. I mean we need to do this right. We need to take him to a specialist in the new year and get some professional advice, but it's not as if he deliberately decided to be like this, is it? I mean you were okay with it all. I'll admit I needed a little longer, but it's not something that makes him harder to love, is it?”

Marilyn shook her head, as much in agreement as in wonder at the amazing man she’d married. “Did you mean it about going out for a ride later?”

“Sure. I mean I suppose it was a bit of a test still. If he was just a boy playing dress up, he'd have been nervous about going outside of the house dressed like that. Since he's not, he's probably better off discovering how the world is going to respond to him, assuming he goes this route.

“I mean okay, it'll mean we won't be able to take the bike back for a refund once it’s been out in the mud, but I'm not anticipating that'll be a problem.

“Besides, a princess really should get out and meet her subjects every once in a while.

“It’s a bit quiet next-door, don't you think?”

They opened the kitchen door a crack and peered through to find their sons playing quietly together.

“Now there's the real Christmas miracle,” Brian muttered, causing his wife too snort with outrage.

“Perhaps you'd care to tell me how you managed that?” she asked.

“Oh, I told George the truth, that this is something James needs to work out for himself, and that he needs all our help to do it. He's a great kid once you dig under his tendency towards fratricide. I actually think he might prefer having a sister.

“I also told him we’d be willing to do the same for him if he wanted, so he's either secretly very keen on the idea of he's terrified we’ll go through with it.”

“We'd better get back to them, if you'd just put the bird in the oven first. Do you fancy another coffee?”

“No thanks. I think I blew my month’s caffeine allowance on that first cup this morning. Wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea though.”

Marilyn put the kettle on while Brian handled the turkey with a practiced ease she could never have matched. He was a big man, her husband, with a decent set of muscles on him – good looking despite the receding hairline and slight equatorial bulge. There was something about his eyes this morning. A sort of wistful regret she'd noticed from time to time over the years. He’d never been prepared to speak about before and she couldn’t imagine he felt any different now. She focused her full attention on drinks preparation to keep her from asking unwelcome questions.

With the turkey started on its four-hour journey towards edibility and the tea made, they rejoined their children. James looked up from the game he was playing with George and broke into a radiant smile.

“Daddy, look. We missed a present. It has your name on it.”

It was a small package, narrow and perhaps ten inches long. Inside was a slender case similar to a pen case but a little longer.

“Who’s it from?” Marilyn asked.

“It didn't say. Just had my name on it. You didn’t...?”

“I've never seen it before in my life. Are you going to open it?”

Curiosity overcame caution and he did just that. Inside was a length of tapered wood, not quite straight, and a small Slip of paper. He put the case down and lifted out the contents.

“What does it say?” Marilyn asked.

Brian peered at the sheet of paper and read it aloud, “Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, a Christmas wish for each of you. Seriously?”

Silvery sparks leapt from the tip of the wooden shaft and hung in the air in front of his face as if waiting further instructions.

He looked around at the others who seemed as nonplussed as he was.

“Well, er, I suppose my son... James wished to be a beautiful princess,” he said.

The silvery sparks swirled around James in his pretty dress. The changes were subtle but undeniable, the most evident being the lengthening of his hair. His body grew slightly and narrowed to an elegant slenderness, his face became delicate, beautiful. His dress changed too, becoming somehow just that little bit richer in appearance and design. With the change complete the sparks settled in front of his eyes.

“I suppose,” he said with a musical voice that could never have belonged to a boy. “I suppose,” she said with a slight dimpling of her cheeks, “that I’ve always longed for a sister.” George’s eyes grew round with terror, “but I’ve had my wish and I believe my brother would be far more likely to wish to be tall and handsome, strong and brave, a prince of renown.”

As the sparks swirled around George, he grew a little, his chest broadened, his face turned rugged. Like James, he was no older than he had been, but the future man he would become was etched clearly in his young features. The sparks hovered by his face. He looked between his parents, settling on one.

“Every good memory I have, has my mother in it somewhere,” he said smiling up at her. “She has always been there, always given so much, always been kinder to me than I deserve, always worked so hard to make us happy. I don't know what she would wish for, but if we are to be prince and princess, then I can't think of anything my mother would deserve less than to be a queen, to be surrounded by wealth and servants so she never has to work another day in her life, if she chooses not to.”

The sparks went to work on Marilyn, her clothes flowing and changing into rich brocaded silk, the house around them expanding and extending in all directions, transforming into an opulent palace with liveried servants throughout. As with the others, the sparks settled in front of her face, waiting expectantly.

“Er, well, I suppose there would be a sense of completeness in wishing for my husband to be transformed into a wise and much beloved king, but I'm not sure that's what he would truly wish for himself. There is a secret longing buried deep inside him that I glimpse only every now and again, and I see it in him today. Whatever it may cost me, I can only wish for him that his deepest and most heartfelt wish be granted him.”

The sparks swirled around Brian in a frenzied, chaotic dance, whirling faster and faster until he was entirely hidden in a globe of such brilliance, they all had to advert their gaze. Eventually it slowed and dimmed. The sparks remained, but as a continuous cascade of light within the shimmering dark material of an exquisite magical dress.

“I don't understand,” Prince George said. “you're a...”

“Fairy godmother,” the princess finished for him when it became apparent he'd run out of words. “You have wings, Daddy, and you’re so beautiful.”

Brian twisted around to look, feeling the soft material of his new clothes shift against his body. Craning his long, slender neck, he could just catch a glimpse of the iridescent butterfly wings now protruding from his back.

“I tried,” he said, turning to his wife. “I tried to be the man you deserve...” He faltered at the sound of his own voice, now turned soft and sweet.

“I know,” the queen smiled and took her husband’s delicate hands in hers, “and in all but the rare moments when your sorrow showed through, you succeeded in just that. But this was my wish, for you to become who you have always wanted to be.”

“This must be... I can't imagine how you're feeling right now.”

“There is a bittersweet element, I'll not deny it. I don’t want to lose the man who has given me so much over the years, but neither do I want to keep him bound to me if there is a way for him, for you to find true happiness. I shall miss you, but I can't regret giving you this. Will you stay with us?”

“I am your fairy godmother. Where else would I go?”

“I thought you were Jamie’s...”

The princess’s face lit up at the sound of her slightly altered name. She wasn't the only one who needed it. There would need to be a reassignment of pronouns too.

Brian shook her head. “I'm here for you, Marilyn. I always have been and I always will. Can this be real? Is this who we are now?”

“I don’t know, Brianna? Can I call you that?”

“I don’t know, it sounds a little forced, like Nigella, like taking a man's name and giving it a tweak to make it feminine. What is it Al Murray says? ‘Beautiful British name. Means mother wanted a boy.’ It doesn’t work for me.”

“How about Rhianna?”

“Rhianna. Yes, I like that. I could definitely live with that.”

“I really don't know, Rhi. I can hardly believe this is happening at all.”

A footman approached, remaining at a respectful distance until Marilyn turned towards him.

“Your majesties, you are expected on the balcony.”

They followed him to a large, glazed double door that in turn stepped out into a large second floor balcony, overlooking a vast courtyard crammed with people. An exuberant cheer rose up as they stepped out into public view.

“What do you think happened to the old royal family?” the newly self-christened Rhianna said quietly. “How can we, or you at least, suddenly be royalty?”

The footman coughed surreptitiously. “The Queen has been ill for some time, my lady. She passed on this morning. Long live the queen.” This last he said with a deferential bow towards Marilyn.

“But what about the next in line?” she asked.

“Your majesty is the next in line,” the foreman insisted.

George leaned over the balcony and waved. “How is it any different from you becoming a fairy godmother? I mean it's magic, isn't it?”

“I think your father's worried that we've pushed someone out of their rightful place whereas he – she I mean – has just become something that wasn't before.”

“To be fair, there may be such a thing as fairy godmother and there may be a limited number of them, so I might have replaced one of them. In essence though, yes, there have to be consequences to us suddenly taking these places in the world.”

Jamie was oblivious. “Mummy, can we go down there? I want to meet some of our subjects.”

“I don't know sweetheart, you don't know what kind of people are down there. Some of them might not be very nice.”

“Maybes aren't a reason not to try though, isn't that what you said to me about making friends at school?”

“This is different...”

“Actually, I don't think it is,” Rhianna said. “And what's the point in having a fairy godmother around if you're not going to use her?” She flourished her wand and the balcony floor flowed up from beneath them and carried them over the parapet and down into the crowd, who parted respectfully to give them room.

They spent the morning walking among the crowd. Most were glad simply to have the opportunity to greet the new queen and her children and to pass on their well wishes. When Jamie, George and Marilyn responded by speaking back and showing an interest, they were delighted.

A few of them called out asking for an audience, most giving reasons that were ultimately selfish and trivial. These were turned away, but a few seemed to have genuine issue and these Marilyn instructed her ever-present attendants to include in the following days’ proceedings.

The morning drifted into an afternoon involving a banquette and a long parade of foreign dignitaries all wishing to present themselves and offer their respects to the new ruler. In the evening they attended a ball where all four of them danced until their feet ached.

At midnight, the queen withdrew, taking her children with her. Rhianna, caught up in the dancing, didn't even see them leave. For so much of her life she had been taught it was her role to take the lead, and now being expected to take the passive role proved a little much of a transition. While she was catching her breath between dances, she noticed the absence of her wife and children. She begged leave of her next prospective dance partner and managed to slip away onto an abandoned veranda. From there, she launched herself into the sky, finding her butterfly wings to be more than just decorative. There was only one light on in the upper story of the palace, so she headed for it. Having confirmed its occupants to be Marilyn and their children, she gave a little flourish of her wand to open the window and flew into the room.

“That's kind of cool Dad,” George said from his bed.

“Not too freaked out by the old man wearing a dress?” she asked, smiling down on her son. “Or not being a man anymore?”

“A bit weird maybe, but no weirder than having my baby brother turn into my baby sister.

“Do you think maybe you could use your magic to fix this world? You know, no more sickness or hunger, no more war sort of thing?”

“Well, it’s kind of new to me all this, but I don't think it works like that. I can do small things for myself, like open doors, but the bigger magic is limited by who I'm casting it for.”

“The more you believe sort of thing?”

“Not so much. More like the more you deserve it.”

“I don't deserve a lot though. How come I managed to wish all of this for us?”

“I think because your wish was for your mother. Wishes are never more powerful than when you give them away.”

“Daddy?” Jamie's sleepy voice came from the room’s other bed.

“Yes darling.” Rhianna couldn't get used to her voice or her body, or even her name. Being called Daddy was refreshing.

“Is it going to be like this every day? All the standing and talking?”

“Probably not, love. Today’s special because your mother became queen, but things will be different. Think about all your stories. The princesses all have duties and responsibilities, don’t they?”

“I don't think I want to be a princess anymore. It was fun, but I think I'd just like to be a girl.”

“What about you other two?” she asked her wife and older son.

“I'm good either way,” George said. “I was happy enough being me before, and honestly this isn’t so amazing by comparison. I do like being taller though, and stronger.”

“It's not me love,” Marilyn agreed. “I prefer doing to being done for and I don’t think I’d make that good a ruler.”

“You’d make a great ruler. With your heart you couldn’t do otherwise, but I think it would consume you. And you’d always feel torn between your children and your people.”

“Which is why I think it would be best to go back to being who we have always been. This has been an amazing experience, but I think where our strengths lie is in being a family.

“What I’d really like is to go back to the way things were this morning before everything changed, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? I mean, it’s like Jamie and George say, I don’t think any of us would miss wealth and privilege. As far as I’m concerned, the succession can go back to whoever it should have been and good luck to them.

“I just don’t know what to do about us. Jamie has what she wants and I wouldn’t take that away from her, and as for you... I miss my husband dreadfully after less than a day, but this is something you’ve been denied all your life, so how could I even consider taking it from you?

“I just wish there were some way we could all have what we want.”

“Well, I suppose we shall have to see what can be done then.” Rihanna took the wand and waved it. “Wish granted.”

“Santa’s been! Santa’s been!” The excited squeal came accompanied by a vigorous bouncing on the bed.

Marilyn lay still and pinched her eyes closed against the tears fighting to escape. It had been a wonderful dream as long as it had lasted, but how much of it had been real?

The bed stopped shaking. She opened her eyes, steeling herself against what she might find, looking for the strength to stay cheerful despite what might have been in a world where magic worked.

Something was off. She was on the wrong side of the bed for one thing.

“I tried to stop her.” George’s earnest voice said quietly from the doorway.

“Jamie, George, it’s too early.” It sounded more like Rhianna than Brian. “Please, haven’t you opened your stockings yet?”

“Ages ago.” The distress in George’s voice increased.

“Well, go and play with your toys for a while longer. You’ll want to give your mummy and daddy a chance to figure out what’s going on.”

“But…”

“Please Jamie. It’s much too early.”

“But he’s been, Mummy. And he got my letter, see?”

“Yes dear, I can see he did, but can you just give us half an hour and I’ll get some breakfast together. George, take your sister back to her room and find something to do till I come and fetch you.”

Marilyn sensed the children leave, then a slim body pressed against her back. She could feel breasts squashing against her and an odd sense of something growing between her legs.”

“Thanks for that?” she said, the statement coming out as more of a question, her voice rumbling in an unfamiliar lower register.

“I thought you’d be awake?” a pretty voice murmured in her ear.

“I’m not sure I am. Did what I think happened really happen?”

She turned in the bed to find a familiar, beautiful face smiling at her. The swelling between her legs increased.

“We’re not going to have much peace unless we get up sometime soon, you know that don’t you?”

“Did we...? Are we...? What just happened?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think we’re going to find any answers here.”

“You have my face.”

“I have a lot more than that, and I think you do too.”

Slender fingers quested under the bedclothes. Marilyn found her eyes crossing with the effort to control herself.

“Oh my, that’s different.” The deep rumble of her voice rose momentarily almost to the pitch she was used to.

“Good different I hope.”

“I should say, but perhaps not right now.”

“Yes dear.” The hand withdrew. The impish smile remained but softened. “Are you alright with this? I mean you didn’t exactly ask for it.”

“I’m not sure I can answer that right now, but give me some time to get used to it.”

“I’m going to use the loo, then I’ll put the kettle on. Would you check on the kids? They’re awfully quiet.”

“Okay. Er, what do I do about this?” She pushed back the bedclothes to reveal her – no, not her, not with something that size.

“You didn’t want to do anything about it a minute ago.” The impish smile was back.

Brian climbed out of bed and settled her nightdress around her hips and knees. Her need for the porcelain was becoming quite urgent. She grabbed her – what had been her wife’s – dressing gown and stepped out of the room.

Everything was so different, even the experience of relieving herself. That wasn’t unexpected, but the weight of her breasts, the width of her hips, the absence between her legs. It felt so different, yet so right. She felt her heart swelling in her chest, afraid it might burst with the delight filling it. She’d experienced much of the same as Rhianna the previous day, if that had actually happened. The memories had a dreamlike quality to them and this felt so much more real.

She wiped and flushed, washed her hands – such beautiful, delicate hands, such slender fingers. The odd sensation of washing around her rings. Not so much the wedding band. That was just a smaller version of the one her wife now wore on his ring finger, but the sharp edges of her engagement ring. One small emerald and two small diamonds, the best he’d been able to afford all those years ago, but he’d spent weeks searching before he’d found it. He remembered the look of delight in Marilyn's eyes when he’d offered it to her, the feeling of his worry melting away. Worry that it might not be good enough, worry that she might be disappointed he hadn’t spent more on a larger ring. Marilyn been right though. This was the perfect ring for her. The emerald matched her eyes perfectly, and felt just right nestled on her slim finger.

She made her way into the kitchen and put the coffee machine to work. Familiar actions since this had always been her part of the morning ritual when she’d been him, but still everything felt different. The coffee beans were just within reach if she stretched on tiptoe. She couldn’t tear the packet open as she was used to and had to resort to using scissors. The noise of the coffee machine grinding the beans seamed louder, harsher than usual, the small of the coffee as it dribbled through so much more intense. This would take a lot of getting used to, but she was going to enjoy it, if only she could shake that sense of worry.

Marilyn lay in bed looking at his erection. It felt so strange adopting a male pronoun, but she didn’t have an option now. He didn’t have an option now. In the absence of any stimulus, everything returned to a more manageable size, so he ventured out of bed and took his turn in the bathroom.

Standing to pee was novel, and the sense of control over the whole process so unusual and yet so much of an improvement.

He washed his hands. Big, strong, calloused hands. The wedding ring that had always seemed so large fit comfortably on her – his – finger. He could feel the strength in those hands, in the muscles of his arms. Here was something else new, and yet so familiar in that it had always been there in her husband’s powerful form.

The face staring back out of the mirror seemed subtly different. The hair hadn’t receded quite so much and the eyes held none of that sadness she’d grown so accustomed to. She’d all but taken it as a part of her husband’s natural features rather than a genuine feeling, but its absence now told a story all its own.

The boys’ room now contained a single bed and a mess of discarded toys, all of the George’s. Any attempt to advance further risked significant injury to unprotected feet, so Marilyn withdrew. The only other upstairs room in yesterday’s reality had been combined into Brian’s office and her workroom. It now sported an array of sparkly unicorn stickers. Marilyn eased the door open to be greeted by her daughter’s ecstatic grin. George turned around and added his sheepish smile to his sister’s. By all appearances they’d been playing My Little Pony with a set of miniature figures Brian must have put in Jamie’s stocking. Marilyn smiled indulgently. His older son would not have been caught dead engaging in such an activity with James, but apparently having a younger sister changed his attitude entirely.

“Your mother will have breakfast ready in five minutes,” he rumbled, wondering if he was referring to himself or Brian. “Come down when you’re ready.”

He headed down to the kitchen where a steaming mug of coffee awaited. He took it gratefully and breathed in the heady aroma.

“Breakfast?” He asked.

“All out and ready,” Brian said. “Bread in the toaster for when we have mouths to put it in. Would you lift the turkey out in a minute?”

“Oh, right. Sure.” He put his coffee down and opened the oven. She’d have struggled with it the previous day, but now he could feel the strength in his arms. The ease with which he lifted it out was a sheer delight.”

“There are a few things on the top shelf you could get down for me while you’re at it too.”

“There’s a stepping stool in the corner, you know?”

“I do, but why keep a dog and bark?”

“Hey, that’s not nice.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” She moved in with a smile and a coffee flavoured kiss, nestling into the crook of his arm.

Marilyn felt his heart melt. She’d never been attracted to women, but this was the man she’d fallen in love with. The rest was just his new body responding to hers.

“How are you feeling now?” Brian asked quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Marilyn breathed in the scent of his wife’s hair, revelling in the feeling that washed through him.

“I’m coming to terms with it. I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t have the raw deal here.”

“Don’t mind me, I have everything I ever wanted including a super fit husband who even seems to be a little trimmer than I remember around her.” Brian patted her man’s rigid abs.

“More hair too.”

“I noticed that,” she looked up at his hairline. “I would have been happy with less, but I agree, you look better like this

“The thing is, you never asked for this.”

“Actually, I think maybe I did. Remember what I wished for?”

“That somehow we could all have what we want. Jamie gets to be the girl he always wanted to be, George gets the little sister he’d never own up to wanting, I get to be the drop-dead gorgeous woman I fell in love with. How do you get what you want though? I mean you have always been content to be a woman.”

“Content’s a good word. You learn to accept what you’re given and enjoy it, and you learn not to want what you never can have.”

“That doesn’t say much for me then, does it? I never learnt to accept what I had.”

“You did though. You’ve been an amazing husband and father. The fact that you did it all while carrying that burden just makes it all the more special.”

“Yes, but what if you end up feeling the same?”

“I don’t think I will. I was okay with being a girl, but I’m already enjoying being taller and stronger. Plus I know that this makes you happy in a way I’ve never been able to make you happy in all the time we’ve been together. Believe me, love, I have what I wanted. I have two happy children,” George and Jamie chose that moment to appear in the doorway, “and I have a radiantly beautiful and deeply contented wife. Everything else is just gravy.”

“Hey! That’s what I always say.”

“Not any more it isn’t. Put the toast on would you?”

George made it through a whole slice of toast and Jamie managed a couple of small nibbles, but they were too excited to see what awaited them under the tree. They did their usual thing of distributing the presents, which led to George exclaiming halfway through.”

“Hey Jamie, look! You got a new bike! Maybe we can go out for a ride later.”

He wheeled it out from behind the tree. There’s not much you can do to disguise a gift like that, not when it’s been put together.

Jamie beamed at her brother and her parents, then lifted a small package out from under the tree.

“We forgot this last time, Daddy.” She passed it to Brian. “I think a fairy godmother needs her wand, don’t you?”

“You remember?” Brian asked.

In response Jamie hunted out a large flat package and the associated ones from her own pile. “I think I’d still like to be a princess today. Would you help me please?”

Marilyn smiled at his wife. He was going to miss that closeness with his youngest, but he’d never quite realised before it was because Jamie had always been a girl. That being the case, Brian would probably always understand their daughter better then he ever would. In the meantime...

“Hey George, why don’t we get dressed and let the girls do whatever it is they need to.” He held out a hand to his older son, who didn’t take it but allowed himself to be ushered upstairs. Mother and daughter headed for Jamie’s room, so Marilyn pushed George into his room with instructions to find fresh and festive clothes, then stepped into the bedroom he shared with his wife. He took the time to collect the clothes she’d bought for Christmas and tapped lightly on his daughter’s door.

Brian opened the door a crack. “I’ll have to get you to thank Jerry. He really did make a marvellous job on that dress.”

“I thought you might like something to wear yourself.” Marilyn handed the pile of clothes across to his wife. “I didn’t want you to o have t of rely on that wand to sort yourself out.”

She kissed him. “Thanks. I haven’t opened that yet. I assume you have something in mind for you?”

“You never showed much interest in clothes so yes, I did buy something for the man of the house to wear.”

“Hopefully you won’t be as disappointed by it as I’ve always been.”

“I don’t think so, but it might give me some perspective on what you’ve always gone through. I’m actually quite excited to see how you look in that lot.”

“Well, best you leave us to it. You know how long it takes us girls to get ready at the best of times.”

That was one thing Marilyn felt she wouldn’t miss. There had always been something creative about dressing up, but there was so much less to do as a man. Ten minutes to dress including shaving and combing his hair. He emerged to find George already quite smartly dressed – the magic had left him taller and broader than he had been so he could probably have got away with anything, but he’d made a good effort.

They headed back downstairs. George held himself with far more poise than he’d ever done before, but his brows were a little creased as he tried to make sense of things.

“I don’t really know what’s happening,” he said. “Are you my mum or my dad?”

Marilyn smiled at his confusion. “I think we’re all trying to sort things out at the moment. I think we’re best going with the flow as much as possible, so call me Dad. How do you like having a little sister?”

“She’s less annoying than having a brother. I did have a brother, didn’t I?”

“You did, and you weren’t all that nice to him a lot of the time.”

“I remember. I think things are better this way. Is it the same for you and Dad, er I mean Mum?”

“I should say so. Oh my!”

The last was in response to the reappearance of Brian and Jamie. Their daughter looked just as poised and twice as radiant in her costume, but nothing compared to the look on his wife’s face. It wasn’t silk brocade, but she had never looked so beautiful. Marilyn felt himself rising to the occasion.

Brian noticed and, if anything, her smile broadened. “Don’t get up darling.” She sat next to him and put a hand in his lap, which responded by straining even harder. “Let’s finish opening the presents, then I’ll put the kettle on.

Jamie still had the long slender package in her hand. She offered it to Brian. “You first Daddy,” she said.

Brian tore the paper off and removed the slender case. Inside was the same sliver of wood and a note, which she read.

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo...”

“Stop, darling,” Marilyn said. “I don’t think we need anything else right now. What do you say kids?”

“I couldn’t be happier,” Jamie said, her smile radiating the truth of her words.

“I’m good,” George’s words were concise but his face relaxed into a genuinely contented smile.”

“And I couldn’t want for more,” Marilyn added, “so if the rest of that note is going to throw any more sparks out, don’t say any more.”

Brian read the remaining words on the sheet of paper, then screwed it up into a ball. He’d set the fire the previous evening. She dropped the screwed-up paper on top of the logs and waved the wand. A spark leapt from its end and set the wood ablaze.

“Daddy, you really are still a fairy godmother!” Jamie said in awe.

“I think perhaps you should start calling me Mummy, don’t you? I’m not sure about the fairy godmother thing, but maybe you’re right.”

“Okay Mummy.”

“What did the paper say?” Marilyn asked.

“I thought you didn’t want me to read it.”

“Not if it changes everything back.”

“It said, 'Biperty, boperty boo, the rest of the magic’s for you.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, but it maybe best to keep this thing safe for now. Maybe we’ll meet someone else who deserves a bit of magic in their lives.”

“Well, if that’s the case, perhaps it’d be best not to squander any more of it lighting fires.”

“I don’t think it works like that. Starting the fire didn’t seem to come from the wand.”

“Where then?”

“I’m going to have to show you sooner or later. Jamie’s already seen it. Would you help me with my dress please?”

Marilyn stood and unzipped the dress. Brian held the front of it against her chest while the back unsealed.

“Wow, that’s a gorgeous piece of work,” he whistled.

“What?” George scrambled to look. Brian’s back was covered with the most exquisite tattoo of a pair of butterfly wings.

“The magic to start the fire came from you then? You really are still a fairy godmother.”

“I really don’t know.” She zipped herself back up and offered the back of her dress for her husband to redo the clasp. “It may be the wand needs a fairy of some sort to make it work. Would it bother you to be married to a fairy?”

There was a loaded question if ever there was one. To be married to a man whose most profound wish had always been to become the woman she now was.

“I loved you as my husband,” he said to her, “and I don’t see myself loving you any less as my wife, whether you have wings or not. Now come on, let’s get the rest of these presents opened. Your mother wants a cup of tea and, George, I’m intrigued to discover what you have in that large round parcel. Maybe if it’s what I think it is, we can go and kick it about the garden a little.”

The gifts were all finally opened and Brian retreated to the kitchen to handle the lunch. Marilyn offered to help, but so did Jamie, which meant George had his kick about in the garden with his dad. Brian waited until everything was cooking before turning on the kettle.

“Do you think maybe we should get some of the washing up done before we stop, or lay the table perhaps?”

“Well, I was thinking about that, but I wondered if it might be good to try something first.” Brian pulled the wand out from her sleeve and tapped on the table, a little like a conductor tapping his baton. She had an image in her head what she wanted to happen, but what were the words to that tune?

“Sing along if you remember how it goes won’t you?” she said to her daughter, then began. “Salaca doo la menthicka boo la bbibbidi-bobbidi-boo Put ‘em together and what have you got? Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo...”

The sink filled with hot soapy water and all the dirties flew across to take their turn. Meanwhile, plates, knives, forks, spoons, napkins, crackers, the whole gamut of Christmas tableware flew out from wherever it has been stored and settled into its rightful place.

She finished the song about the time the kettle boiled. The washing up was all sparkling clean, dry and away in its place and all that was left was to add hot water to the kettle.

“That was amazing Mummy.”

“Wasn’t it? I don’t think the song really matters, but I don’t think I’ll mind housework so much if it’s like that.”

“Mummy, am I being silly still to believe in Santa? I mean I know I sent him a letter and then all this happened, but...”

“Well, you know when I was lighting the fire earlier? I saw something which makes me think you’re not being silly at all. Go and have a look while I take this out to your father.”

Marilyn took a break from playing with his son to come and collect his tea. It was remarkably warm out for the time of year, but still cool enough that the steaming mug was accepted with gratitude.

“Do you still think of yourself by your old name?” Brian asked her husband.

Marilyn nodded. “It’s strange. It feels like the one thing in all this change that’s keeping me grounded.”

“I agree, but I think sooner or later we’re going to have to formalise the exchange. I mean Marilyn can be used as a man’s name, but I don’t think I could call you that, and I really don’t want you calling me Brian.”

“Alright, Marilyn. Let’s try it and see how it goes.”

“Okay Brian, let’s do that.”

“Marilyn?”

“Don’t overdo it.”

“No, alright, but what am I going to do after New Year. You don’t particularly need special skills to be a housewife, just an inclination to keep going even when the jobs get tedious, but I don’t know a lot about what you do, or is that did?”

“Do you want to do what I used to?”

“I don’t know. You’ve provided for us well over the years and it would make sense if I could keep doing it.”

“That’s not reason enough to want to keep doing it though. If you’re going to provide for us, you should at least enjoy what you do.”

“Did you? Enjoy your work I mean?”

“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you will.”

“I think I might like to try it, but I don’t know if I’d be that good with my hands.”

“Are you certain?”

“I think so, why?”

“No reason.”

Brian handed his empty mug back to his wife. “You could come and join us if you wanted,” he said.

“Thanks darling, but I'm hardly dressed for it. You make sure neither of you two gets muddy before lunch.”

“Yes dear.”

The manner in which he said it set them both laughing. George dribbled his new football over to join them, Hicurious about the laughter, but Brian tackled it out from under him and ran over to the far side of the garden.

Jamie joined her mother.

“Santa really did come, didn’t he?” she said.

“He must have done,” Marilyn answered, “otherwise who else left this for us?” She drew the wand from her sleeve and focused on all the carpentry skills she’d held as Brian and willed them to her husband. “Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. Happy Christmas darling.” Then raising her voice. “Lunch will be ready in ten minutes. I could do with some help lifting the bird out when we come to serving up.”

Brian waved a hand, but from his dismissive manner he'd probably forget. It didn't matter, she had her daughter and, as a last resort, her wand.

A silvery streak passed across the sky. Maybe a shooting star, maybe a satellite, maybe something else. On the off-chance it was something else she whispered her thanks into the sky for the gift of her family, as much as for the gift to her family.

She guided her daughter back into the house. The weather may have been warmer than usual, but it wasn’t quite warm enough to be outside for long in sheer stockings. The choice of lingerie would come into its own later once the children were in bed.