BEGINNINGS

On the other side of the world down in the southern latitudes, August is the very dead of winter. Around a sleeping newborn’s hospital cot, three fairies are gathering. They’ve just been swept in by the icy southerly - Wellington’s prevailing, bitter wind. In most countries people are distinguished by their accents, but in New Zealand, Wellingtonians are instantly recognizable for their natural forward lean, the result of the constant battle to stay upright while the wind tries to floor them.

The fairies wear sou’westers and rubber boots, all dripping with rain. Their lacey wings miraculously remain identifiable, sprouting from their shoulders through the sodden coats. They make a circle round the baby, their faces alight with love, when Fairy 1’s sleeve splashes a few drops of water onto the baby’s face. They gasp, withdrawing from the cot, but the baby remains asleep.

“ Lynn Parker, born 7.20 pm,  2 May 1948, weight 6 lbs” reads Fairy 2.

They’ve come to sprinkle fairy dust and grant the baby some graces. These fairies adore their charges but their loving is firmly of the old fashioned kind, they’re professional to their wingtips. They fly regularly over desolate farmhouses, cow pats, volcanoes and endless vistas of perfect scenery, full of freezing sheep, but no people. Sometimes they fly for days, with nothing to do as the population is thin and scattered. Familiar with this hard landscape and its consequences, they are therefore not about to grant Lynn a sweet and passive disposition, Cinderella-clad feet, or a pumpkin which will become a golden coach.

Fairy 1, much bigger than the others, looks into the crib.

“She’s pretty, but look at that forehead, she’s got a brain.”

The tone of her voice makes it clear this may not be a good thing, and fairies DO know a thing or two. She produces her wand, sprinkling white stars over the crib in a wide arc – it’s beautiful.

“For you, dear, I wish independence. Your brother is 2, and I see you tying his shoelaces when you are 5 and he’s 7. After you will come four more sisters, so you are sandwiched between the adored son and the little girls. Your partying Irish mother will give you lots of responsibility, and though it will seem a burden in your youth, it will make your adult life smoother. You have a kind father but he is busy running after your mother. You will have to learn to work hard, be persistent, make and believe in your own decisions.”

The other fairies sigh loudly, and Fairy 1 swishes about angrily, knowing they are pushing her to give the baby a break.

 “And”, said Fairy 1 as she lifts the blankets from the baby’s toes and touches them with her wand,

“I will give you itchy feet so that when the day comes, you can travel as far and as wide as you want to, over the whole world.”

The two other fairies beam their approval, then Fairy 2 takes her turn.

“Little Lynn, we can only give you gifts that run through your genes. I remember your paternal grandmother……” she says turning to the other two.

 “Do you remember Ethel Mary all those years ago, from that farm in Taranaki, the one who had a governess who taught her French?” All the fairies double up laughing at the very idea of anyone speaking French on a New Zealand farm, let alone in the last years of the 19^th century.

 “She was a good horsewoman, but an even better cook, and that is my wish for you – learn to cook. That way you will always have warmth, good company and good health.”

“What about the riding then?” asks Fairy 3.

“No, this one isn’t sporty, though she’s a walker……one of her daughters will get the talent for horses.”

Lynn stirs in her crib, opening her eyes. All the fairies fall silent and look at this wondrous new person, sending little waves of love, and she closes her eyes again.

“Now it’s my turn,” says Fairy 3.

“Oh, I haven’t finished yet” says Fairy 2.

“Get on with it!” says Fairy 1, “there’s another one just arriving in the delivery room”.

“Where were we…? Yes, on your mother’s side there is writing ability though it’s such a mess it’s hard to work out who it was. The wild stories you’ll grow up hearing are to be taken with a large pinch of salt, but you’re an observer, with a sharp and witty pen. So, write, dear girl.” Sprinkle, sprinkle went the wand – the room is full of glitter.

Fairy 3, impatient as hell by now, and known for it, takes over.

“Lynn, these two are stuck in the past, whereas I am a futuristic and forward looking fairy.” She’s bristling, and very physical for her kind.

The others raise their eyebrows and poke their tongues out behind Fairy 3, but she’s well into her rant already.

 “Let’s get down to it girl; you’ve got a brain but you’re not practical by nature. I can see you in a sewing class, lying to the teacher and handing her a note you’ve written yourself to say your uncle’s died and you’re upset– anything to avoid picking up a needle or some scissors. You might be good at quizzes, but you won’t be able to turn a radio on until you’re 8, you’re hopeless with machinery so I’d say you’re no good at technology.”

“Technology?” the other fairies echo. Fairy 3 ignores them and raises her voice.

“The future is different, Lynn. Communication is going to accelerate progress in the world. Machines will become more important than the people operating them. The whole world will be instantly available to anyone at the flick of a switch within your lifetime. Your brain and practical ability are wide apart. It sounds sexist in a country which was the first in the world to grant the vote to women, but there’s nothing for it but to make damn sure the men in your life are techies.”

“You can’t tell her how to choose a husband!” cries Fairy 2

“Well, there’s a limit to how pathetic you can be losing keys, getting stuck in lifts, not knowing how to operate a microwave or a mobile phone…..”

"Eh?” The other fairies have no idea what she’s talking about and Fairy 3 is exasperated.

“Look I can’t help it if I can see the future differently. You can’t protect her by waffling on about her virtues, she needs to know her weak spots to be able to work on them. You’re as bad as this baby when it comes to new concepts in the real world. I have to be hard on her. I see her on some sort of tractor, riding down Mount Whistler in Canada, she’s like a chicken without a head on, thrilled with herself, following the group leader because she’s the slowest - the only woman. Her husband and son are cringeing with embarrassment , they feel the fury of ten other men on their necks because they’re all going down the mountain like old ladies in wheelchairs….and look! She takes the corner badly and whoosh, she and the tractor are over the side of the mountain….”Fairy 3 covers her eyes with her hands.

 “It just can’t be. Listen Lynn: you’re not capable of living in the modern world unless a man is on hand to handle the basics. “

“You do go too far!” says Fairy 1

“But I’m right!” insists Fairy 3

Fairy 2 pipes up

 “Please, this child should not hear discord”.

Fairy 3 laughs, saying

 “What? With that mother? It’s the one constant of her childhood!”

The other two glare at her, she has to stop this. Fairy 3 shrugs, sighs deeply and goes up to the baby. For the next few minutes, she says nothing, but the others see her soften as she just strokes Lynn’s forehead tenderly.

“Well, pet” she says confidentially ”I’m going to give you a passion for astrology. Your paternal grandfather dabbled with it in his youth. It’s an old and venerable study, influential once again in the future. You’ll have to study, pass exams, know how the universe works, do logarithms from almanacs, and draw up a birth chart. For the rest, there’s nothing to be done but this way you’ll force yourself to learn necessary skills. Everyone else will think it odd, but you’ll seize it, understand it.” Her two colleagues roll their eyes.

“People don’t realise yet that what’s written in the stars is your personal manual for life. It shows your patterns, mental qualities, character and especially vocation. I see you doing this from a young age and becoming especially skilled in children’s birth charts. Excellent!” She turns to the others, well pleased with herself.

“She’s going to do our sort of work, most unusual...”

 There’s a loud, newborn scream in the adjoining room. Fairy 1 sighs and says

 “Damn, a screamer….its going to be a long night. Let’s go.