The Lollipop Fairy

“Are you a Fairy Godmother?”


“Are you my Fairy Godmother?”

“Well, yes… at the moment. I mean I do have other clients, er, I mean other little children to visit. But just now I am your very own Fairy Godmother… Mmm!”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“No, I think Fairy Godmothers are a vanishing breed, but there are still some around. In fact they are making a bit of a comeback. Especially at the moment. How old are you my lovely?”

“I’m nine in three days time.”

“Yes… that’s good. Well, maybe I can give you an early present, what sort of things do you like?”

“How long have you been a Fairy Godmother?”

“Well not very long to tell the truth, bit new to the job, I mean to this particular role… actually! Do you like dolls? Nice dresses? Perhaps you like making things, sparkly bracelets or necklaces, or, or sewing things, are you crafty… no, I mean do you like… making things… craft… yes?”

“Is it a job, being a Fairy Godmother?”

“Well, yes, it is for me. You see I am normally a School-Crossing-Patrol-Supervisor, you know, a lollipop lady, but of course schools are closed at the moment. A friend told me about this job, well not a job, really, as such… special role, don’t know what you call it, special, magical… that’s it.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem a bit nervous. Do you know how to be a Fairy Godmother?”

“Oh dear… Well the thing is, you are my very first visit. You’re a bit old really. Apparently it’s much easier the younger they are. Sorry, I’m not doing a very good job, no, I mean, magical visitation. You see, I just needed to do something to get some money in. I’ve got twins, just four years old they are, one boy, one girl…”

“You get paid for being a Fairy Godmother?”

“Oh yes, it’s just temporary, ‘till I can get my old job back. So what would you like me to magic up for you?”

“You can do magic?”

“Yes, yes, you see it’s special circumstances, this is the magic fairy kingdom’s contribution to the horrible crisis we are in. It’s their way of spreading some happiness and joy to all the girls and boys.”

“So if I asked for a Barbie doll, you could make it happen? Like, here and now?”

“Yes, I’ve been trained, I’ve been practising. How about a Barbie doll with her horse… and the stable? All the little props – hay bales, riding clothes, saddle, reins? What colour horse would you like?”

“I’m not into Barbie dolls…. I could do with another Star Wars Lego, an A-wing Star Fighter, but they are a lot of money. Mum might be getting me a Lego set for my birthday.”

“Well, we don’t have to consider the money, though we do have to be careful not to provide things if we feel children are being greedy.”

“Can I tell what I’d really like?”

“Yes, of course my dear child.”

“I’d like this horrible disease to go away and Mum not to be frightened because she works every day at the hospital. She’s a cleaner, she works about ten hours every day, and she’s tired and frightened, but she still has to go to work.”

“She’s doing a marvellous job, looking after people who are ill and keeping the hospital clean.”

“She’s frightened of catching the disease and she’s frightened of making me catch it. She won’t come too near me, it’s for my own good. You’re not going to come too close are you?”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’ve got special magical protection while I’m on the job… oh I mean when I’m making a magical visitation. It’s not often us mere mortals get the benefit of magical protection. But I won’t come any nearer, if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s nice talking to you. It’s nice you being here.”

“Oh, thank you…. that is something I am good at. Do you know how much I miss showing my children, and their Mums and Dads, across the road every morning and afternoon? I don’t talk to everyone, but I can tell how they are feeling. Some smile at me and skip along so happily – looking forward to all the things they are going to do at school, and seeing their friends. Some stomp along grumpily – they have had a difficult morning and their parents are almost pushing and shoving them in the direction of the school gates, and that’s the last place they want to go. And some are sad – they find their own way to school and I often wonder why their parents don’t come along with them… You look a bit sad, you know.”

“It’s lonely here, when Mum is at work, which she is most of the time. I can’t even see Grandma and Grandad. They do phone me sometimes. I can’t play with my cousins. I can’t go round to my friends.”

“What do you do all day?”

“I read my books. My teacher gave us some work, but I’ve done all that.”

“You make Lego.”

“Yes, but I’ve done them all about three times! I don’t want a Barbie, or even an A-wing Star Fighter really. Can you make this disease go away? Can you make things go back to how they were before?”

“No, my sweet… I can’t.”

“So you’re not really magic. You’re not really a magic Fairy Godmother.”

“There are unseen worlds and hidden powers that we humans do not discover often, if at all. I arrived here by magic, yes, I did. Very rarely does the fairy kingdom extend its help to us humans in this way. But I do not possess the full power of fairy magic and I suspect that even real fairy folk would not be able to magic this virus away. It is a human problem and we humans have to deal with it. Do you know, you have got me thinking? You have taught me a valuable lesson, thank you. Magic trinkets to keep the little girls and boys happy – a generous and well-meant gesture I’m sure. But that won’t really solve anybody’s problems. We don’t need magic, we need each other.”

“You could go and see other children – maybe younger children – who will want Barbies and Lego and toy cars and picture books and… You can magic them up, that is so amazing!”

“But wouldn’t it be more amazing if I went back to my job, making sure that all the children I know cross the dangerous roads they face safely, each morning and afternoon? And I won’t need magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am going to write a note to every child who uses my crossing. I shall ask how they are, what they are doing, how they feel. Every morning I shall leave an envelope outside each of their houses and tell them they can write a note back to me if they want to. Then every afternoon I will go round and collect any notes that are left for me. Then in the evenings I will read the notes and write letters for the next day. Oh, and what else do you think will be in every envelope?”

“I know… a lollipop!”
“Yes… a lollipop!”

“Will I see you again?”

“I hope so my lovely, some day, before too long. But in the meantime, don’t forget to look on your doorstep in the morning.”


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