Magic Dress - The Witch

It took about a year, but I started to get compliments from the women how nice I was looking, and one took me to her hairdresser to get what she thought was a better style.

I told Nanny how happy I was.

"We make our own magic," she said, and I agreed.

It was the hair I noticed first. I had started to go thin on top like Dad, but now my beginnings of baldness seemed to have gone. I didn't need to shave so often.

Was my penis smaller, or was it wishful thinking? I wasn't exercising it -- so use it or lose it would be good.

Eventually there was no doubt.

My testicles had gone back into my body and my scrotum was different. There was almost nothing to hold when I had a pee. It seemed the hole had migrated down.

It was with a mixture of excitement and terror, that I went to Nanny. I was sure.

"You are a witch," I said. "You really can do magic!"

"Yes," she said, "if that's what you want to call it. Is something wrong?"

"What's happening?" I said.

"I think you're getting your wish," she answered. "You can stop any time you want. Just stop wishing. Otherwise concentrate on the woman you want to be."

As a biologist, I was fascinated. The process resembled embryology in reverse. People are basically female, but testosterone triggers the formation of male genitals. Slowly they vanished and a crease developed, which deepened. My voice grew a little higher.

I had ceased to shave and my pubic hair had vanished. I was more like a girl than a woman. Then I went through puberty, but without my height changing. It took two years, but my breast buds grew until I could fill a small cup of a bra, my hips broadened and my waist narrowed. I told people I was getting hormone treatment.

I got pubic hair again.

Then blood and pain.

Incredible! My first period!

Both Mum and Nanny cried and hugged me when I told them. I had to get tampons and pads. There was no way I could explain it. Mum didn't know it couldn't be caused by hormones.

Even the boss at work had given up treating me as special. I was just one of the women. He was a sexist oaf, but I was glad to be treated equally in this respect.

I went out with the girls and danced with boys. My breasts grew to be similar to my mother's.

CHAPTER 5

I was so taken with my success I scarcely noted how much older Nanny was.

One day we said goodbye, I asked her if she was ill, and she laughed.

"What me? No, I'm never ill. Now remember, come and see me next Thursday at 3 o'clock. Not earlier, because I've got some things to do."

Next Thursday I knocked and opened the door to let myself in, but there was no answer when I called. She was not in the garden or downstairs, so I went upstairs.

There she was in bed, looking asleep, but I knew at once. She was cold.

Somehow, I didn't feel sad, just disappointed. She had told me she would live to be 94, but surely she wasn't that old? I made myself a cup of tea and looked around. The house was clean and tidy. There was almost no food, but there was half a bottle of milk in the fridge.

Maybe she really did know when she was going to die, which is why I had been asked to come at this time. Perhaps witches only know quite close to death.

I went into the garden, and admired the scents and the sounds of birds and insects. Then I heard the doorbell, so went back through.

There was a man in a black suit and tie.

"Hello," he said. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss, but fortunately Mrs Hogg had a funeral plan with us, so we know her wishes and there will be nothing to pay. May I see the deceased?"

"She's upstairs," I said. "Excuse me, but how did you know?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were the lady who phoned this morning. Ashley? Is that right?"

"Yes," I said, and was going to say more, but stopped myself. Had she arranged her own funeral?

I took him upstairs and he got a form out of his bag. It had my name on it.

"It says here that you were the person who called..."

"Sorry," I said. "It's been quite upsetting and I get a bit confused."

"Of course. Now do you have the death certificate?"

As I looked non-plussed, he said gently "A doctor has to come and certify death. I know it's obvious, but if you ring up your GP..."

Just then the doorbell went.

It was my doctor. The practice knew I was living as a woman, but I hadn't been ill enough to need them since I bought the dress.

"Oh, hello," he said. "So you're Mrs Hogg's friend. I don't think I've ever seen her as a patient, but we all have to go sometimes. I know it's upsetting, but I won't be long. Where is she?"

"Upstairs," I told him.

"Just wait down here," he said, kindly. "I'll be very respectful."

I heard him greet the undertaker as a friend, which is understandable. They came down together.

"Natural causes," said the doctor. "Here's the certificate. You'll need to register it, but Mr Fisher here will take you through the procedure."

The telephone rang, and I identified myself.

It was the solicitors handling the will.

"Thank you for calling earlier. I gather Mrs Hogg left you a note."

There it was, by the telephone. It said 'In the event of my death please call the following:' and gave the numbers of the doctor, the undertakers and the solicitors, plus me.

How long had it been there? I didn't know, but it was the kind of thing a sensible old woman might do.

"We have made an appointment for tomorrow at 11, at Mrs Hogg's house, as requested."

People said how sensible I had been as well as brave. I signed forms and they took 'the deceased' away. It had all been paid for and specific arrangements made. All I had to do was to notify people from a list she had made and which was in the first place I looked. There was a folder of bank statements, utility bills and other documents, including her birth certificate. She was 74.

Next day the lawyer turned up, quite a pleasant young man. She had left me everything. The cottage was freehold and there was some money in the bank, though not a lot. It was simple.

He asked to look around the cottage.

"It's wonderful," he said. "It should sell for quite a lot. Do what you want, of course, but there's an estate agent we can recommend, and of course we could take care of all the legal matters."

"I'm not going to sell it," I said. "I'm going to live here."

I hadn't thought about it. It was just at that moment.

"Lucky you!" he said. "I've often fancied it. I really like the natural garden with all the allowance for wildlife. I don't have a garden myself, but I like nature at the weekends."

I made him a cup of tea, and we had a nice chat. It didn't seem at all wrong. In fact, nothing after her death seemed morbid. People live, they die. It is all part of the nature that Nanny had loved.

He had been an amateur naturalist and had wanted to study biology at university, but his parents persuaded him to do law instead. He asked if it would be all right to attend the funeral, and I said it would be fine. His name was Terence, not Terry.

CHAPTER 6

It was a cool but sunny day for the funeral. The cortege went from the cottage to the cemetery and crematorium -- some Victorian churchlike buildings in the middle of a lot of graves and trees. Apart from the modern graves, a lot of it was not trimmed too much, and it was noted for wildlife.

The ceremony was secular but (I suppose) a bit pagan. I was surprised to see that it was conducted by Lily from the dress shop, in a simple long white dress and flowers in her hair. There had been no flowers by request, but there were a number of other women who were also in white, who each laid a single flower, herb or sprig of something on the coffin.

At Nanny's request, I was wearing the green dress. The undertakers and the crematorium staff were nearly the only ones in black. Terence had seen the instruction and was in a light-coloured suit.

It wasn't really a ceremony at all, just a sort of appreciation of a kind woman who loved nature and helped people. Lily called her 'our sister Gita'. Then the women in white sang a nice song about nature, as the coffin moved away under a curtain. There were about a dozen of them altogether. Not a choir, just a group of women, but sort of better that way. Natural, like her garden.

Afterwards, the women in white came outside, and introduced themselves. I recognised a couple of names that Nanny had mentioned in passing. They were obviously her closest friends. Lily asked me did I have anything to tell her.

I was puzzled, but she said "Never mind. I'm glad to see the dress worked out so well. Gita was very fond of you, you know."

Just at that moment there was a screech of brakes and a yowl. A car from the next funeral had hit a cat, and I ran across.

I grabbed the scruff of its neck like a mother cat does with a kitten, to hold it, and felt it, as it mewed plaintively. But there was more than my fingers told me. I knew from my degree just what was in that little body, but more clearly than ever before. Somehow I knew exactly what was wrong. The skin of a cat is very elastic, so it can be badly injured inside without bleeding from a wound. It could limp away but in two or three days it would be dead.

There was a mixture of sorrow, anger and love. I can't explain it, but I somehow pulled the hurt from that little body into myself, and pushed the damaged tissues together till the internal bleeding stopped, and the ripped ligaments joined together.

Then I could feel it struggling. It no longer hurt and wanted to get away, so I released it, getting a scratch as it scrabbled free.

"It's all right," said Lily to the people looking on. "Nothing broken."

Then she spoke quietly to me.

"Don't get up too suddenly. I'll help you. Come and sit down for a moment."

She took me back inside and I sat down while one of the staff gave me a glass of water.

"I've got something to tell you," I said to Lily.

"No need," she answered. "I know you know."

She shooed the staff and other people out of the room, saying I needed a little time to myself. They probably thought it was grief, though it was anything but.

I was a witch. I don't know how long it took, but gradually I understood it all.

I knew how long I would live.

It would have been a little longer if I had not helped that cat.

Magic comes at a price, which is why witches only do good. Every child's hurt, every bird with a broken wing could be mended, if I was willing to give up some of my own life.

I remembered the time I had hurt my ankle, and heard a crack. She had examined it and put a cold compress on it, and told me to tell my Mum it was a sprain. I was now sure it had been broken. She had not fixed everything, which would have been too obvious. In any case, she told me that we should not expect or seek a life without pain. Some things like a fever were part of the healing process, and should be allowed.

Nanny had mended me in making me female, but it had been at huge cost. To change a human body from male to female, not superficially, but completely. She had had to think it through and imagine it, all the while diminishing herself.

She knew she would live to 94 when she first told me of this ability. That is why it was a surprise when she died at 74. Perhaps not all of those twenty years had been given to me -- I don't know what else she might have done -- but I think most of them. As I got more experienced, I would know the price of the magic.

Lily and the others said they had never heard of any healing which had been so great, and at such a price.

It was always a choice. To pay or not to pay. Which is why it is better to work with nature and medicine to prevent the need to pay.

We cannot predict the future, we only know our natural life, and to some extent that of others in which we get in contact. An accident or violence could end things sooner.

As sure as I was of my death, I knew I would have two children.

But that was also a choice. That was the natural flow of my life. I didn't have to take it. I could live without children.

But if I went with the flow, it was inevitable that I would have choices to make. Children have accidents and diseases, and I would feel the need to take some of the hurt for myself.

What was I going to do?

It was as clear as if it had been written in her will. The best way I could thank her for her gift was to enjoy life as a woman as completely as possible. To have lots of sex and to love my children.

I was sure that Terence would be able to help me. No magic -- just woman's intuition.

CHAPTER 7

My parents had been waiting in the car, but came back to see what the delay was. Mum said it was understandable that I was upset, and I almost laughed.

"Overcome with emotion, Mum, but not upset," I said, kissing her.

"It's just I really know who I am now. I'm your daughter and Nanny's granddaughter, and I am so glad to be me!"

I could see she was thinking of something she wasn't saying, and had an inkling of what it might be.

Instead of going home, I asked to be taken to the cottage and said I would stay the night.

"But there's no food," said Mum, and I said I would manage.

When we got there, there was a bottle of milk on the doorstep, and a bag with some groceries from the Co-op grocer. Someone had told the milkman to start deliveries again, so there was another bottle in the morning.

That night I lay naked in Nanny's bed, just feeling the warmth of her love surrounding me.

Then I got up and looked through the documents. There was a birth certificate for Gita Jones, and a marriage one for Gita Jones and Eric Hogg. Too soon afterwards there was a death certificate for Eric Hogg, who had been a soldier. There was a wedding photograph which I looked at for a long time.

We can't see the future. She would have been able to feel what her husband's natural life would be, but it was ended much sooner by a bullet.

Gita was an Indian name, I thought and the young woman did look a bit Indian, perhaps with an Indian mother. Now I thought of it, Mum might be a bit Indian. She didn't know who her parents were, having been brought up in foster homes, but we had guessed Spanish or Italian. Did they look similar?

And the dates were possible. Had a young unmarried Gita had a baby and been forced to give it away? It would be feasible for Mum's birthday. Did she later marry the young soldier?

I had no way of knowing. So far as I could tell my witch knowledge extended to myself and the world I handled.

But it was a nice thought that Nanny really had been my grandmother. Had she known or guessed?

My breasts were about the same as the young Gita, I thought. Was it genetics? Or had she made my body from knowing her own? Either way was wonderful.

I went back to bed and slept happily.

In the next few days we moved some of my things into the cottage.

While we were doing this, I asked Mum if she had had any premonitions.

"Well," she said, "There was one. I was convinced that I was going to have two children, a boy and a girl. We had you, then there was a problem and I knew we weren't going to have any more. Yet funnily enough, I think it's come true. I love you both."

We were both a bit tearful as she hugged.

"I dreamed I would live to be a hundred," I said. "Did you get anything like that."

"Oh, just nonsense," she said. "Just after I started my periods, I told my foster mum that I was going to live to be 87. Then later on it was 83. See, it's just random."

"That was just after your Dad had his back problem," she added. "I think we've still got the X-rays. They were going to do all sorts of terrible surgery, but it sort of mended itself. You were only little, so you won't know about it, but he was in awful pain, and they thought he might be in a wheelchair."

"I kept thinking about it, looking at the X-rays, massaging him and wishing I could do something, but you can't of course."

I thought about it. I had the idea that being a witch was inherited. Maybe Mum was a witch as well, in which case Nanny probably was my grandma. I wouldn't start that conversation just yet, though.

Still, she thought it was possible that Nanny had been her mother, and said it was a nice idea for both of us. Why not believe it?

CONCLUSION

Lily and the others helped me to learn the gift. There is not some simple tariff, just a general awareness of the penalty of intervention. Witches are never seriously ill, because we manage infections, putting our bodies right at the early stages when the cost is low. We could fix injuries such as a broken bone, but that is a greater cost. With some injuries or illnesses it is not worth doing anything but letting the doctors do their work. We trust vaccines and antibiotics, the modern magic.

An injured animal may have little natural life left, anyway, so the best thing can be to end it quickly. But a mother animal who is still making milk for her young is worth a little of my life. A treasured pet may be worth some help, but warning the child that it will not live long, and that is natural and right.

We always feel how much natural life we have left, but as we near the end it changes from years to months, then days and hours.

Terence and I knew we were for each other right away. There was no magic -- it was just ordinary love. But we had to go through the process of getting to know each other, like everything else. Sex as a woman was something so natural it was a privilege to experience it.

The doctors agreed my sex had been misidentified at birth, so a certificate was issued and I was able to marry.

Mum now understands her gift, but only uses it on Dad. She says it is quite a relief to know when they both will die naturally. Women tend to outlive men, so he will be first, which she says is best, because he would be much more distressed the other way round. She says it is a blessing that she can make his final years and days comfortable and happy with her. She will be careful not to give up too much of her life to ensure this.

I had a natural birth with both my children. They were not painless, but it was a natural pain and an easy price to pay for bringing a child into the world. I thanked Nanny for that pain and joy and the gift of motherhood.

My breasts were not there for decoration, though Terence certainly appreciated them. It was a privilege to feel them fill with milk, and to feel my love pouring into a tiny baby. So natural and so wonderful.

I have a son and a daughter, who are fine and healthy young adults, and I know I will not see my hundredth birthday, or quite a few before.