The little lad was small for his age, ten years and one month, and was unusual in as much as he could read and write–not very well, but better than his father Albert, the woodcutter
 
Billy Two Shoes ~ A Story at Christmas

 
By Susan Brown
 

 
 

Billy put the book down with a sigh. It was his favourite book called Hiccups by Susan Brown*. The parchment within the scratched and leather covered, thin book was worn with use. Billy didn’t understand everything in the book but that didn’t stop his enjoyment. He had a wish deep in a place where he imagined his bosom would be if he had one. His wish was as secret as any could be. He wished to be a maiden and to swoon at the feet of a handsome prince.

The little lad was small for his age, ten years and one month, and was unusual in as much as he could read and write–not very well, but better than his father Albert, the woodcutter. They lived in a wooden cabin, deep; deep in the enchanted forest. There used to be four in the little family but Pinocchio his step brother had lied once too often as was now in a young offender’s institution - two forests and one wood away. The judge at his trial said in passing sentence that his evidence was a bit wooden. Billy couldn’t remember much about his mother, Gretel as she had run off with the ginger bread man, many years before.

Young Billy always thought that the stork that delivered him to his parents was wrong and should have worn glasses. It was obvious that Billy should have been a girl. Not being total up to date on latest birthing techniques and biological facts, he constantly asked his parents to do something about the stork’s mistake, but to no avail–he came into this troubled world as Billy and Billy he would stay.

Why you may ask why was Billy called Billy Two Shoes instead of Billy Constrivenerer? The first reason was that Billy’s surname was a bit of a mouthful and the second was his lack of footwear. He needed shoes, but none seemed to fit him. They were too large, too small, too wide or too uncomfortable. Some said that his feet had magical qualities, as his feet seemed to swell or get smaller, the nearer he came to trying on shoes. Others simply thought that he was just a flaming nuisance. Hence the nickname Billy Two Shoes; because he had two feet, he required two shoes–very literal were the homely folk of the enchanted forest.

Looking around the cabin, Billy noticed that his father had gone out. Being a bookworm, Billy never seemed to notice what was happening while his nose was stuck in a book. He yawned, stretched, scratched the long but dirty blond hair on his head, dislodging some fleas and head lice in the process, and then got up. His rough serge clothes rubbed against his skin but he didn’t really notice this as he had lived with such coarseness all his life. That didn’t stop him dreaming of wearing the finery of a young lady and he spent every hours day dreaming away and imagining himself as a herself, all dressed in the finest silks and satins with ribbons in her hair and singing sweet little songs to her adoring papa and all the adoring little animals in the forest.

The lad’s bare feet padded across the rough wooden floor. Opening the door, he noticed that it was snowing again.

‘It must be nearly Christmas,’ he thought.

Being an enchanted forest, the snow started dead on the dot of midnight on the twenty third of December and stopped one minute past twelve midnight on New Year’s Day, but never got deeper than three inches. Billy went down the wooden steps and out on the path. If he noticed the coldness underfoot, he didn’t seem to mind, his feet being coarsened by years without footwear of any description.

Albert, his father would be in the forest somewhere cutting wood and probably wouldn’t be home for some time. Billy had time on his hands, so he went for a walk. The snowflakes fell gently from the leaden sky, settling on the floor of the forest and the trees all about him.

He wandered lonely as a cloud through the forest, his head full of the wondrous things that he had learned from the few books that he possessed.

After a few minutes, Billy came across three small houses, one was made of straw, another of sticks and the third was brick-built. The three pigs; Pinky, Perky and the other one who Billy couldn’t remember the name of but was probably called Porky, were standing outside their respective houses, looking around with some anxiety.

‘What’s up?’ said the little lad.

‘Have you seen the big bad wolf?’ quavered Perky.

‘No, last I heard was that he had something going on with Little Red Riding Hood at the other side of the forest.’

‘Typical,’ exploded the anthropomorphic Pinky,’ here we are working our hooves to the bone to get these houses ready for the big showdown and he’s busy chasing a skirt. We have a bet on with the Artful Dodger that he hasn’t enough wind to blow a candle out let alone our houses.’

‘What’s the odds?’ asked Billy who had an unhealthy interest in maths.

‘Fifteen to one against all three being blown over,’ replied the third pig whom we’ll call Porky.

‘You’ve been robbed,’ said Billy, ‘you’d have got better odds from Robin Hood.’

‘He wasn’t around,’ replied Perky; ‘gone to his time share in Benedorm with Marion, you know, that maid he’s been hanging around with.’

‘Ah well, I’ll leave you to it boys,’ said Billy walking off leaving the pigs to argue amongst themselves about who had the biggest and best house.

Continuing on his way, Billy came across a tortoise limbering up and doing stretching exercises.

‘Hello, Mr Tortoise,’

The tortoise looked up and stopped bending his leg backwards at an impossible angle.

‘Oh hi, Billy; still no shoes?’

‘Nope; when’s the race then?’

‘Oh it’s started; I gave the hare a five minute lead this time.’

‘How many times have you raced?’

‘I lost count after the first hundred.’

‘And how many times has Mr Hare won?’

‘Erm–now let me think–none.’

‘Why does he bother?’

‘I’m not sure really; I think he’s one of those infernal optimists.’

‘Well, I’d best be going,’

‘Same here,’ replied the tortoise who had a sip of isotonic drink and then dashed off at one mile an hour.

Billy resumed his walk through the forest, avoiding cow pats and deer droppings wherever possible although that was difficult with the carpet of snow. In the distance he could hear singing and as he drew nearer he saw six dwarfs marching along, one behind each other, picks and shovels in their hands and singing that annoying ‘Hi Ho’ song. Mind you, they didn’t look to happy, rather Grimm really. Even Happy looked like he’d been hit around the face with a wet fish.

Billy did a quick head count; there was Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, a not so happy Happy and Sleepy who looked a bit dead on his feet.

‘Where’s Sneezy?’ asked a concerned Billy.

‘In bed with a cold,’ snarled Grumpy. ‘He always gets the sympathy with Snow White. ‘Ooh my nose is runny, I’ve got a headache; can you wipe my fevered brow?’ it’s enough to make you sick. It means that we have to work an extra hour. Mining is not a fun occupation and after a while, it’s the pits.’

The others nodded their agreement and it was obvious to Billy that before too long, there might be industrial action and a laying down of tools.

Billy in his heart of hearts was intensely jealous of Snow White and would have loved to be wearing some of the dresses she flaunted herself around in, so he had some sympathy with the little chappies.

With a surly nod from Grumpy and a dopey grin from Dopey, the six continued on their way, singing ‘Hi Ho’ but not very convincingly.

It was a few minutes later that Billy came across a prostrate form lying across the snowy path breathing rather heavily.

Looking down, Billy smiled.

‘Hello, Mr Hare.’

The gasping form looked up, took a deep breath and just said, ‘having–a–breather…’

‘Riiiight; you need to be quick though, Mr Tortoise isn’t far behind.’

‘Just–need–a–minute, have you got a ciggie?’

‘No, I’m too young–and anyway it stunts your growth. I’ll leave you to it then ,’ said Billy stepping over him and continuing on his way.

Soon Billy was deeper in the woods and as he looked around him, a glint of light caught his eye. Walking through some rather dense undergrowth, he missed treading on three blind mice by a whisker length. Continuing on towards the strange glinting light he saw, in the corner of his eye, something red and furry that he vaguely recognised–it was only Brer Fox lurking about in the undergrowth; on the lookout for Brer Rabbit, no doubt–but that’s another story. Anyway, he finally came across the thing that had attracted his attention. It was a mirror propped up against an ancient tree. It had a gilt frame and it was glowing slightly.

Looking in the mirror, he could see a reflection in it of a thin dirty boy with long hair and no shoes on his feet. Being bright for his age, he realised that the reflection was himself but wished that it was the reflection of the beautiful girl that he should have been.

‘Hello, what's this mirror doing here?’ he wondered.

The mirror lit up and then a woman appeared.

‘You are supposed to say mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?’

‘But you aren’t on a wall; you are propped up against a tree.’

‘Don’t get technical with me, boy. Anyway, as you’re nowhere near anything that could possibly be called fair, what do you want?’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Come on, you must want something; everyone does. It doesn’t have to be lots of money or an ecologically friendly coach and horses. Just name it and I’ll see what I can do. I’m feeling generous today. I’m doing a job share with the genie of the lamp. She’s gone Christmas shopping so I’m helping her out today. So what do you want? I can only give you one wish instead of the usual three as there is a recession on.’

‘Well…’

‘Yes?’

‘Well…’

‘Yes–yes, get on with it.’

‘I’d like some shoes that fit me.’

‘Is that it; not trying to stretch me are you?’

‘Sorry, that’s all I want.’ Billy couldn’t say what he really wanted as the woman in the mirror would only laugh and think he was a bit kinky.

‘Fair enough; well as this is an enchanted wood…’

‘I thought it was a forest.’

‘Don’t get technical with me, kid. From where I am, this looks like a wood…you know lots of trees equals wood. Do you want to argue or get your wish granted?’

‘Wish granted please.’

‘What sort of shoes do you want?’

‘You decide.’

‘Are you really sure of that?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Hmm–okay on your head etc - as you know this is an enchanted forest…’

‘I thought you just said it’s a wood?’

‘I’ve changed my mind; that’s a female mirror’s prerogative–now as we are in an enchanted forest and this is supposed to be a fairy tale, I can’t just let you have shoes, just like that.’

‘You can’t?’

‘No, that would be too easy and the readers would get bored and go and do something else. No you must go on a Quest…’

‘A Quest.’

‘Will you stop interrupting me? Your Quest is this - should you choose to accept it - that you must go deep, deep, deep in the forest and…’

‘I thought we were there already?’

‘No, this is only deep, deep–you need another deep and then you are there. Once you are there, your Quest is to find the almost mythical character that is on all children’s lips at this time of year.’

‘Nintendo?’

‘No idiot, Father Christmas or Santa Clause if you want to be all German or Dutch about it.’

‘Father Christmas.’

That’s the one, can’t miss him, White hair and beard, rather portly, goes around with a bloody great sack on his back and has some sort of relationship with reindeers.’

‘What kind of relationship?’

‘Don’t ask. Now do you want to do the Quest?’

‘Why not, it can’t be that hard finding a fat …’

‘Weight challenged.’

‘As I was saying, it can’t be that hard to find a erm–weight challenged–man with white hair, a long beard and red suit, a thing going with reindeers and a nasty habit of saying ‘ho, ho, ho–surely.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Ten.’

‘A bit too smart for your age–are you sure that your not a Leprechaun in disguise?’

‘I haven’t got the ears and the genital Irish humour or a pot of gold.’

‘Hmm–well, like all Quests, not everything is easy or everyone would pass them.’

‘Do you have any advice for me?’

‘Yes, don’t wee when the wind is in the wrong direction, you might get wet.’

‘What’s that to do with the Quest?’

‘Nothing, but it is useful advice. Now be off as you only have a few hours before Father Christmas goes on shift.’

‘Shift?’

‘All these questions! Yes shift; do you think all those presents the kids get fall off Christmas trees? He has to deliver them.’

‘I thought he used Amex or even the Post Office.’

‘No, that’s just manipulative advertising from Those Who Don’t Believe.’

‘Oh; if I pass the Quest and find him what will happen?’

‘Your wish will be granted.’

‘I’d better be off then.’

‘Yup, toddle off.’

‘Erm, which direction do I take?’

‘I thought you were a clever, precocious ten year old?’

‘I would be if I knew what precocious meant.’

The lady in the mirror looked a bit annoyed and her eyes rose upward.

‘Okay; you came from where?’

‘My wooden cabin.’

‘And where, pray is your wooden cabin?’

‘Deep, deep in the wood–I mean forest.’

‘Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Can you remember where I said that Father Christmas was?’

Deep, deep, deep in the forest?’

‘That’s right so if you carry on going in a straight line you should reach deep, deep deep in the forest eventually–clear?’

‘Not really.’

The lady sighed and mumbled something about ‘kids of today’ and just pointed to her left and said, ‘go that way.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it. Have a nice day, please call again.’

With that the light went out in the mirror and the Lady vanished.

And so it was that our intrepid hero went on his Quest.

After a short while, he came across his father cutting wood.

‘Hi Dad, what are you doing?’

‘Cutting wood–that’s all I do. Why is it every time you see me working, you say the same thing when you know that’s all I do?’

‘Just being polite.’

‘Well don’t say it anymore or you’ll feel my strap.’

‘Dad.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m going on a Quest.’

‘That’s good son, well don’t get your hands dirty and keep away from that Brer Fox –he’s strange.’

‘I know that but–well that’s a horse of a different colour. Anyway, I might not be home tonight.’

‘Why not, having another sleep over with Squirrel Nutkin?’

‘No I don’t like where he puts his nuts; anyway, you didn’t listen; I’m going on a Quest.’

‘That’s nice Son; try and stay out of trouble, you don’t want to end up like Pinocchio; now off you go, I need to chop down a few more trees before nightfall and you know that I like to do my bit for global warming.’

Billy went off down the path leaving his father to his tree destruction. The snow was falling heavier now and he could see that it was lying, all crisp and neat and even, but no deeper than three inches. He sensed rather than saw that Brer Fox had given up stalking him and that he was all alone in the woo…forest.

But Billy Two Shoes was not quite alone…

It is the very nature of a Quest that hazards and unexpected things should come the way of the Questee and this was the case with Billy. He walked along the path until he could no longer find it beneath the snow. He then had to try to keep in a straight line so that he could try to continue on his journey into the deep-times-three forest. He came across a bridge that forded a river and on that bridge was a troll. Now for those of you who don’t know what a troll is, they come in all shapes and sizes. This one was large, about three times the size of Billy. It had a big nose and big ears and eyes almost as big as saucers. They don’t wash much, not a major problem as far as Billy was concerned as he hadn’t used much in the way of Lifebuoy soap for years. Hence the odour coming off the troll meant nothing to our intrepid hero.

‘Who do we have here?’ boomed the troll.

‘Erm…it’s me, Billy.’

‘Are you one of those Billy Goats Gruff?’

‘Do I look like a Billy Goat?’

‘You might be disguised.’

‘I can’t disguise that I have no horns or hooves.’

‘True. Well you aren’t going to trick me like they always do.’

‘I wouldn’t do that to a nice troll like you.’

‘I think that I’ll eat you.’

‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘Why not, you might be small but I could do with a snack.’

‘If you eat me, you’ll come out in spots.’

‘Why?’

‘Well it’s well known that trolls have a nut allergy.’

‘You’re not a nut though,’ said the troll happily.

‘My dad is always calling me as nutty as a fruitcake so if you eat me, you’ll come out in spots —boils too probably.’

‘Hmm - good point. I suppose I’d better let you go then; but if I hear that you’ve lied to me, there’ll be trouble.’

‘Thank you, Mr Troll. Have you seen Father Christmas, around here?’ said the polite Billy.

‘Trolls are on his naughty list, just because we eat humans. Unfair and discriminatory, that’s what I call it.’

‘Oh well, right, thanks anyway,’ he said as he squeezed past the troll and went on his way.

On his travels, he saw a dragon in the distance having a smoke and made sure that he was upwind of the scaled beast. Then he came across a glade and saw some children in quaint clothing standing in a circle and singing a strange song:

Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down.

Billy decided to avoid them like the plague and swiftly continued on his Quest.

After a while he came across a tower in the middle of a glade. From a window near the top he saw a girl hanging out. She had incredibly long golden hair that reached to the ground. Walking up to the base of the tower, Billy looked up.

‘Can I help you?’ he said.

The girl looked down her nose at him.

‘Seen any dashing prince’s about?’

‘No, sorry. Will I do?’

‘Not really, you’re not my type. I need rescuing by a handsome prince.’

‘How long have you been waiting?’

‘About seven pages; I expect I’ll have to wait for a few more, I suppose.’

‘I’ll go then,’ said the somewhat deflated child.

‘Yes do.’

‘Oh, have you seen Father Christmas?’

‘Well, I sent him a letter and asked for some new hair slides and a Handsome Prince and I’m hoping that I’ll get them this year.’

‘So you haven’t seen him then?’

‘Doh, are you thick or something? No, I’ve not seen him. If you do come across him please remind him that Rapunzel is hanging about, waiting for a prince and that I’m not getting any younger. Now go away, I can smell your body odour from up here.’

Billy sadly turned away and continued his Quest, going deeper into the forest than he had ever gone before. The snow was still coming down and the trees and the ground were covered in a glistening whiteness which was beautiful to behold.

He came across a clearing and in the clearing was a cottage. He went over and knocked on the door. There was no answer so, on an impulse he went in. He found himself in a kitchen. On the table was three bowls of porridge–one small, one medium and one large he was hungry but decided that he didn’t fancy porridge even though there didn’t appear to be anyone about.

Something sort of made him go upstairs. At the top of the stairs was a bedroom with three beds in it; one small one medium and one large. He was tempted to go and sleep on one of them but decided against it. He saw three wardrobes over to the other side of the room; you guessed it, one small, one medium and one large. Being somewhat inquisitive, Billy went over to the smallest wardrobe and opened it. Inside was some female clothing. Something compelled him to take off his smelly clothes and put on a pink gingham dress that was hanging there. Immediately he put it on he felt different, as though he was made for the dress. He marvelled at its softness against his course skin–so much nicer than his smelly unwashed boys’ things…

Then he heard a noise downstairs. In a panic, he shut the door of the small wardrobe and then dashed over to the largest one, opened it and then darted inside. Luckily, there was room for him in there and in the nick of time he closed the door before the tramping sounds of feet came up the stairs.

‘So,’ said a deep voice, ‘I told her that if she ever came back and squatted in our house again, I’d set a goblin on her; fancy eating our porridge and sleeping on our beds!’

‘Now honey,’ said a higher female voice,’ you know that the doctor told you to keep calm and watch your blood pressure. She’s gone now. Mind you, I didn’t like the way she complained about my cooking and the bed covers.’

‘Mummy–MUMMY!’ said a higher young girl-like voice.

‘What honey and don’t shout like that, it gives me a headache.’

‘Goldilocks has been back and taken my bestest dress!’

‘WHAT!’ shouted the deep voice.

‘She did, Daddy, look it’s gone away.’

Billy could hear the heavy tread of feet coming across the room.

‘You didn’t put it in the wash?’

‘No Daddy.’

‘Honey–look there are dirty clothes on the floor; whose are these?’ said the woman.

‘What is going on here? I don’t believe in coincidences; she came back took our darling daughters best dress and to throw us off the scent left these awful dirty smelly clothes–no doubt taken from a poor little orphan boy, who even now is shivering somewhere cold without a stitch on.’ *1

‘We’ll have to go to see Officer Dribble,’ said the female voice.

‘Yes, this has to stop–and I think you mean Officer Dibble, dear. I warned Goldilocks that she would feel the full extent of the law if she did anything else.’

‘Daddy will they put her in prison?’

‘Only for a short while dear; we live in enlightened times and she will probably be sentenced to be transported somewhere a long, long way from here to break rocks for a living or something. Right lets go and see Officer Dribble–Dibble, I mean, he’s probably down at the alley, in the town; that’s where he usually is….’

‘I’ll take these disgusting clothes,’ said the woman,’ we might find the poor child that has been robbed.’

There were noises of feet going down the stairs and the sound of a door being slammed. Billy got out of the wardrobe, blinking in the sudden light. He wondered if he looked silly wearing the dress so he went over to the long mirror and looked at himself. With his long hair, thin body and hair free but dirty face, he thought that he looked like a her and he smiled at that. He knew that it was wrong to take someone else’s clothes, but he had nothing else to wear now and so he decided to carry on wearing the dress–anyway, he thought that they suited him. His feet were the only let down, he needed shoes and that reminded him that should really go now as time wasn’t on his side if he intended to see Father Christmas before he went on his shift.

Glancing out of the window, he saw disappearing fast down a snowy track; three bears, a big one, a middle-sized one and a little one. Billy was glad that he hadn’t been caught as he had heard that bears were fierce creatures, especially if denied their ration of honey. Judging by how angry they were, Billy thought that they hadn’t had any honey for months.

Billy quickly went downstairs, marvelling at the feel of his dress. Admittedly, he still had his rough boy’s undies on, but that didn’t take away the feeling of the dress too much.

He was soon going even deeper into the forest. Making his way through the three inch snow was hard, but Billy had lived in the forest all his life and a bit of snow was not going to stop him.

Now, gentle reader, you may be wondering how it is that Billy could go walkabout in a forest in the middle of the winter, wearing only a thin dress, some dubious under garments and no shoes on, without dying of exposure. Well the answer of course is obvious, so I won’t push the point.

Billy trudged on, past the lake with no name, the hill that had pretentions to being a mountain but was two foot short of that goal and around the giant who had his head in the clouds and was standing by a ginormous bean stalk, mumbling something like:

Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum!
I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Be he 'live, or be he dead,I'll grind his bones to make my bread.

Billy’s dad had taught him at an early age to avoid giants like the plague so he quietly skirted the area and went on his way.

He stopped for a moment to have a breather and his ears pricked up as he heard the sounds of tinkling bells. It was starting to get dark now and he could see an eerie green light coming from behind a hill, through trees in the distance. He brushed some snow from his pretty dress and went towards the sound and the light. As he drew nearer he heard some strange singing. Then he was stopped by several small people who appeared out of nowhere, dressed all in green except for red hats which had bells on the end of them. At first he thought that they were relatives of Noddy but dismissed that almost instantly as everyone knows that Noddy has a blue hat and there was no sign of Big Ears.

One that looked slightly older than the rest moved in front of Billy and held up his hand.

‘You can’t come any further.’

‘Why not?’

‘This is a secret location.’

‘It can’t be that secret as I’m standing here.’

‘Hmm, I suppose you have point. What do you want, anyway?’

‘I want to see Father Christmas.’

‘He’s not here.’

Where is he then?’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘I do.’

‘And who are you?’

‘Billy.’

‘That can’t be true.’

‘Why not.’

‘How many girls are called Billy?’

‘I’m not a girl, mind you I am inside.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Why not.’

‘You have a gingham dress on.’

‘So?’

‘Only girls where dresses.’

‘But I am a girl.’

‘But you said…look how old are you?’

‘Ten.’

‘A bit precocious for ten aren’t you?’

‘Is that a disease?’

‘What?’

‘Precocious,’

‘No, it means that you are a clever dick,’

‘But I don’t want one?’

‘What?’

‘A dick; my dad said dick is a sudanim for willy.’

‘Don’t you mean pseudonym?’

‘I don’t know I’m only ten; look, this is getting nowhere. Can I see Santa or not?’

‘Don’t you mean Father Christmas.’

‘Same thing.’

‘Depends where you come from, are you, German or Dutch or American perhaps’ they like to call him Santa?’

‘No, I don’t think so, I live in the forest.’

‘What deep, deep, deep in the forest?’

‘No, only deep, deep.’

‘So, you don’t know where you live?’

‘Yes, in the forest.’

The elf looked like he was developing a headache.

‘I think that we need to move on. Why do you want to see Father Christmas?’

‘I’m on a Quest.’

‘Well why didn’t you say so? Go through there–third tree on the left, past the Christmas tree with gaudy tinsel, through the grotto, past the Jacuzzi and you’ll see him, sitting at his desk sorting his calls out.’

‘What’s a Jacuzzi?’

‘Never mind–you had better be quick as he’s due to go on shift in one hour.’

The elves let him through and he continued on his Quest, his little heart all aflutter as he was nearing his goal.

Billy went past the three trees and the grotto and the Jacuzzi–that looked like it was just a bath that broke wind a lot–and then went into a clearing. The trees all around were covered in twinkling lights. At the top of each tree there was an angel with gossamer wings. They looked a wee bit uncomfortable up there, but Billy assumed that it was a thing that fairies just did.

Ahead of him was sort of a cave. The cave had hidden lights but they bathed the area in a soft warm glow. In the centre of the cave, just inside the entrance was a huge red padded chair and in the chair sat a large person with a red suit on, edged with white fir. He had snowy white hair and his white bushy beard was long and luxurious. He was concentrating on a huge book that was open on his lap. He was writing what appeared to be a list using a long quill.

Now Billy knew what a quill was as he used one when he was learning his letters. He walked up to Father Christmas, as that was who the jolly rotund person must be, and coughed slightly.

Father Christmas looked up and smiled.

‘Hello, Billy.’

‘Ooh, you know who I am?’

‘Of course; I had an elfogram from the Lady of the Mirror, she told me to expect you.’

‘Wow.’

‘Now, I only have a few minutes before I go, so come and sit on my knee and tell me what you want for Christmas.’

‘Didn’t the Lady of the Mirror tell you?’

‘No, she bound by the laws of confidentiality. What is it you want, my child?’

‘Two shoes?’

‘Is that all?’

‘Y–yes, please.’

‘I sense that you are not telling me everything so I will have to trust my instincts, won’t I? But as I see you are dressed as a girl and yet beneath you are somewhat different, I have to assume that what you want to be is a bit difficult to say; am I right?’

Billy just nodded.

‘Very well, I have to ask you a few Questions. If you answer truthfully, you shall have your wishes granted. Have you been a good boy?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘How often do you wash?’

‘At least twice a year.’

‘Do you pick your nose?’

‘Only when it’s full.’

‘Are you a boy or a girl?’

‘G–Girl.’

‘Right. I want you to close your eyes and count up to ten, can you do that?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘All right, close your eyes, then.’

Billy closed his eyes.

‘Now count to ten.’

‘One–Two–Three–Four–Five–Six–Seven–Eight–Nine–Ten…’

Billy opened his eyes and Father Christmas was in there in front of him with a kindly smile on his face.

‘Do you feel different?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Look at your feet.’

Billy looked down past the dress and expected to see his bare feet, instead, he could see that he was wearing nice long white stockings and shiny black girls shoes with silver buckles. His feet felt strange but rather nice.

‘Thank you for my lovely shoes,’ exclaimed Billy excitedly, jumping up and down–then he stopped still. Something else was different. He didn’t feel his whatsit’s flopping up and down when he was jumping. He turned around, away from Father Christmas and felt ‘down there’ to find that his boy bits were no longer there.

Turning back to Father Christmas he said, ‘Erm–my boy bits have dropped off.’

Father Christmas laughed. ‘No they haven’t, but they have gone away as you don’t need them anymore.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you are now a girl.’

‘Wow, you knew my secret.’

‘It’s not a real secret, you’ve written to me four times about wanting to be a girl. Anyway, as soon as I saw you I knew that you didn’t just want to wear any old shoes, you wanted to wear girl’s shoes.

‘Thank you, Father Christmas,’

‘That’s all right, Wilhelmina.’

‘How did you know the name I wanted as a girl.’

‘Magic.’

‘Gosh.’

‘Now, I have work to do and the reindeers are chomping at the bit. You must go home now, but as I’m passing your way, I’ll give you a lift in my sleigh. We can’t have young girls walking about in the forest at night, you know. There is a red fox that–well that’s a horse of a different colour; come on, let’s go.’

Wilhelmina held Father Christmas’s white gloved hand and followed him to where the reindeers were. He introduced her to them her.

‘This is Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen.’

‘Where’s Rudolph?’

‘We don’t talk about that. Come on, climb aboard and let’s get cracking!’

In moments, the sleigh was rising up above all the trees in the forest, being pulled by the eager reindeers. Wilhelmina hugged herself with glee as they wooshed along at a great pace. She saw the elves down below and waved at them and they waved back. Then she saw in the falling light the giant who shook his fist at them as he tried to eat Jack but missed grabbing him by the merest whisker.

Then they were over the house where the bears lived. Outside were the three bears and Wilhelmina was sad that he had taken the little bears dress. As if by magic, she could feel her dress change to a nice satin and lace dress and she saw the gingham dress flutter down and into the eager arms of the little bear. They all looked up and waved at the sleigh and Wilhelmina waved back, happy that she had helped make things go right again.

The sleigh carried on at a greater pace, passing the tower in which the girl with the long hair was. A handsome man in full armour and a sword was climbing up the hair and Wilhelmina could not help but think it would play merry hell with Rapunzells split ends.

As the tower disappeared into the distance, the sleigh hovered over the bridge where the troll was. Father Christmas, in a voice that boomed through the hills and valleys shouted down.

‘MR TROLL.’

The troll came out from behind some bushes and looked up.

‘Have you eaten any humans this year?’

‘No–but not for the want of trying.’

‘Try being a vegetarian for a year and I’ll take you off my naughty list.’

‘No more humans?’

‘No.’

‘Not even little ones?’

‘Especially not little ones.’

The trolls massive shoulders drooped slightly.

‘I’ll try, I suppose.’

‘Well done, I’ll make sure my elves do spot checks on you.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘No; goodbye and remember what I said.’

The troll sort of waved at them but without much enthusiasm. Wilhelmina thought it unlikely that the troll would change his ways but hoped that he would.

Soon they went over the almost mountain past the dragon which was trying it’s hardest not to be lanced by Sir Lancelot; over yet more trees until Wilhelmina recognized that she was home.

The sleigh landed gently, the reindeers were blowing hard and Father Christmas looked at Wilhelmina and smiled.

‘Well, little one, you are home.’

‘Thank you for everything.’

‘That’s all right, it’s my job.’

Wilhelmina gave him a lovely hug and then hopped out. With a final wave, Father Christmas and his reindeers were up and away, leaving a trail of star dust in their wake.

Wilhelmina trudged through the snow. It was nice wearing shoes and she loved them almost as much as the dress she was wearing. As she went towards her home, she caught site of something red looking at her from behind a hedge, but she wasn’t worried as it was only Brer Fox and–well that’s a horse of a different colour.

She went into the cabin and shut the door. Wilhelmina saw that her father was asleep by the fire. She went over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Daddy.’

Why she called him Daddy after a lifetime of calling him Dad, she didn’t know, but it seemed right somehow.

Her father woke up and for a few seconds didn’t quite know where he was. Then his eyes sort of focused on the little girl in front of him.

‘Billy?’ he asked, a frown appearing on his gnarled weather worn face.

‘I’m Wilhelmina now, Daddy. I did my Quest and this is my reward.’

‘And you like being a girl?’

‘Of course, I’ve always been a girl inside and now I’m one outside, too.’

Her father shrugged his shoulders. Living deep, deep in an enchanted forest meant that in the course of a lifetime many strange and explained things happened.

‘Right,’ he said getting up and stretching. ‘Now that you are a girl, you can stop reading those books and studying and do the typical girl thing. First, you can cook me breakfast then do the dishes, clean the floors and everything else a stereotypical girl does. Now, get cracking!’

It was long after noon that Wilhelmina finished her chores. Wiping her hands on her apron, she went outside.

It was a lovely day and the slight wind made her skirt billow slightly, a strange feeling for someone who up to the previous day had only worn breeches.

The sun was shining and the sky, through the trees was a deep shade of blue, yet the snow continued to fall gently everywhere. Wilhelmina saw a red red robin bob, bob bobbin' along and that made her think of her Mammy.

Suddenly there was a red streak go across the clearing followed by another. It was only Brer Fox chasing Brer Rabbit again–but that’s a horse of a different colour.

Despite everything and her father’s treatment of her, Wilhelmina was content. She had received a special gift this Christmas and that was enough. She knew though, as sure as eggs were spheroid that she would wrap her Daddy around her little finger sooner rather than later.

Epilogue.

It was several years later. Wilhelmina was by now incredibly beautiful. Her circumstances had changed somewhat. Her father had married a widow lady just one year after Billy’s miraculous change to Wilhelmina, after showing the rather rich widow his etchings. The lady had two step daughters and a large manor house. Wilhelmina and her father moved in with them. Tragedy struck shortly afterwards when Wilhelmina’s father died following an incident involving a poison apple and Snow White. Investigations are still underway.

Her step mother decided that Wilhelmina was too posh a name for the girl who was now treated as little more than a scullery maid and so changed it to Cinderella. Then…..

Well, that’s another story.

Fin

*In all good book shops, but as there aren’t many of those left since Amazon and Google took over the world–try BCTS, it’s free and Erin is a very nice lady.
*1. If you like to read about shivering orphans (fictional, of course as the real thing wouldn’t be very nice) try Susan Browns Matchstick Girl–guaranteed to have you reaching for a hankie–or your money back. Available now on BCTS.

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.