He came upon the small clearing quite unexpectedly, a perfect circle of short cropped grass, perhaps twenty metres in diameter, amidst the thickest part of the wood. The early afternoon sun lit the little haven brilliantly and there was a heavy, sweet smell in the air that he presumed was something to do with the circle of tiny white daisies that occupied the very centre of the area.

    There were thousands of the little flowers, an unbroken rug of orange and white atop an equally perfect carpet of green, though with an even smaller circle of a darker, almost mauve coloured grass at the very centre again. Like a Polo mint, Tim thought and smiled to himself.

    Unhurriedly, he strolled around the perimeter of the grass, marvelling at how even the definition between woods and grass was, as though someone had deliberately cut back trees and undergrowth to form the clearing and yet there were no signs of stump remnants, nor any indication that anyone had recently been digging here to remove such things. The clearing, natural or man-made, had been here a long time.

    Slowly, Tim lowered himself to the ground and reached into the pocket of his jacket for his cigarettes. He took it out, flipped the top and extracted a single filter tip.

    `You don't want to do that.' Tim's hand froze, halfway to his mouth, at the unexpected sound of the light, musical, feminine voice and he looked up to see her. She was standing in the dark central circle, within the daisies, yet he had scarcely looked down for more than a handful of seconds. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun, slightly dazzled by the sheer whiteness of her long, flowing summer dress and her halo of ash blonde curls..

    `I'm sorry,' she said, stepping towards him, `I didn't mean to startle you, but you really shouldn't be doing that.' She drew closer and now he could make out her features more clearly. Under his breath, Tim let out a low whistle of admiration, for the girl was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen.

    `Smoking kills more human beings than just about anything else,' the girl continued. `Everybody knows that, even from childhood and yet still people persist in committing suicide.'

    `It's a bit late as far as I'm concerned,' Tim said. The tightness in his chest and the stabbing pains suddenly felt even more acute. His hand hovered over his pocket, where he knew there were just three more tablets remaining of that day's quota.

    `It's never too late,' the girl said. She stopped and lowered herself gracefully to the grass, only a few feet from him. Tim saw that her eyes were a brilliant, but very deep green, with tiny amber - almost gold - flecks. He shook his head.

    `Tell that to my doctors,' he said. `According to them, nothing works. I've tried it all.' He ran a hand over his gleaming pate. `This hairless look isn't a fashion statement, you know.'

    `Yes, I do know,' she replied, seriously.

    `How do you know?' Tim challenged her. `Or were you just putting two and two together?' It probably wasn't that hard to work out, he reasoned. The lack of hair, his haggard looking features and the weight had been dropping off his sparse frame at an ever alarming rate these past two or three weeks.

    `I know a lot of things,' the girl said, smiling gently back at him. `You'd be surprised.'

    `I doubt it.' Tim sighed and returned her smile. `Nothing would surprise me these days.'

    `So cynical in one still so young,' his new companion laughed. Her face suddenly became serious again. `And yet, I suppose it's hardly unexpected, considering everything you've been through.'

    `Oh, you don't know the half of it,' Tim grunted.

    `As I said,' she replied, `you'd be surprised at what I know.' She paused. `In fact, I know quite a bit about you, Tim.' Tim's eyebrows shot up at the use of his name.

    `How did you know my name?' he demanded. The girl shrugged and even that was a graceful gesture.

    `Oh, friends in places,' she replied.

    `And have you been following me all the way through the woods?'

    `No, there was no need. I just waited for you to come.' Tim's eyes narrowed once more, but this time it was nothing to do with the brightness of the day. And, despite the warmth of the early afternoon, he was beginning to feel curiously cold.

    `You waited for me?' Tim repeated. `How did you know I would come?'

    `I just knew,' she said, her smile widening. `Some things just have to happen.' She stretched out a hand to him. `My name is Beatrix, by the way - with an `x' on the end.'

      `Nice to meet you, Beatrix, I'm sure,' Tim replied, taking the proferred fingers. They were cool to the touch, but seemed to then convey a warmth into his arm. `But that still doesn't explain why you were waiting for me, let alone how you could be so sure I would come anyway.'

    Beatrix looked over her shoulder and nodded towards the circle of flowers.

    `The daisies,' she said, as if that explained everything. `You came for the daisies.'

    `But I didn't even know they were here,' Tim replied, puzzled not just by her words, but by the way in which she seemed to assume he would understand them. `In fact, I only found this clearing by accident. I wandered off the main pathway and then got a bit lost. At one stage, the undergrowth just seemed to get thicker and thicker, the further in I went and then suddenly I was here.

    `You wouldn't happen to know the way out, I suppose?' he added, for he had visions of spending hours thrashing around in ever bewildering circles, once he tried to start back again.

    `The way is always there for those who need to know it,' Beatrix replied, mysteriously. Tim sighed. Beautiful as this girl was, he was beginning to think that maybe she was some kind of head case. `You think I'm a bit strange,' she said and Tim stiffened.

    `No, not really,' he denied. `But, well, you know, it is a bit strange meeting someone like you all the way out here and you do say some funny things.' Beatrix's smile became positively radiant.

    `Someone like me?' she said. `And exactly what is `someone like me?''

    `Well, I don't really know, I suppose,' Tim confessed. `It's just that you're like, well, like some sort of latter day hippy, I guess. You remind me a bit of the mother of one of the girls I knew at college. She was into tarot cards and astrology and herbal remedies and the like and she used to talk in riddles half the time.

    `She claimed she was a medium and that she was mostly just passing on wisdom from beyond the veil, as she called it.'

    `Well, I'm not a medium,' Beatrix said. `And I don't believe in tarot cards, nor all that star sign nonsense. However, the veil is a different matter.'

    `It is?'

    `Of course,' Beatrix replied, firmly. `There are many names for it, but it exists, as sure as we're sitting here.'

    `Do you get messages from beyond the veil, then?' Tim tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice and fought to keep a straight face. Beatrix shook her head.

    `I don't get them,' she said. `But I sometimes bring them.'

    `What?' This time Tim could not control his features and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. `You bring messages from beyond the veil. What are you, some kind of spiritual Postman Pat?' Instantly, he regretted the final remark, but Beatrix did not seem offended at all.

    `That's quite a good analogy,' she nodded. `But I don't have a black and white cat, I'm afraid.'

    `But you obviously have television beyond the veil, or whatever it's called,' Tim grinned. Beatrix let out a little laugh, which tinkled merrily in the air above them.

    `I don't spend all my time there,' she said. `We have to live among humans from time to time, like a sort of refresher course, I suppose you'd call it. Otherwise, we would tend to lose touch with what's going on, despite the fact there are other ways to monitor things. There is still no substitute for what they now call hands on experience.'

    `So, my Postwoman Beatrix,' Tim said, `what exactly are you? Are you an angel? You're certainly beautiful enough.' Beatrix made a little face.

    `I'm glad you think so,' she said. `Thank you. But no, I'm not an angel, not if you mean in the biblical sense. Angels don't really exist in that way. The biblical description was just a handy one to explain to a civilisation that was really very uneducated at that time.

    `People needed something to believe in that was positive and good and that's how the Bible came about. It's probably the greatest work of fiction of all human time, but that's all it is.'

    `How can you be so sure?' Tim demanded.

    `Because I helped write some of it,' Beatrix retorted, her smile suddenly a wicked grin. `Not much, it's true and none of the very important bits, but I did help.'

    `Oh, so you didn't invent Christmas and Easter and all that stuff?' Tim laughed, catching the lightness of her mood, but her face went serious again as soon as he had spoken.

    `No one invented that,' she said, firmly. `The New Testament is pretty much accurate. I was only talking about the Old Testament.'

    `So there really was a man called Jesus?'

    `Jesus most certainly existed,' Beatrix agreed, `though to describe him as a man would be less than accurate.'

    `You mean he came from where you come from?'

    `Of course. There was no point in going to all that trouble over the Old Testament and then not fulfilling the prophecies.'

    `But people didn't believe it, did they. The poor beggar ended up nailed to a cross.'

    `That was the whole point, though, wasn't it? I admit I couldn't see the point at the time, but then I'm not one of the decision makers. And I reckon I was proved right in some ways, especially in the middle ages and that. Religion has caused nearly as many painful deaths as smoking and that's a fact.'

    `So, if you're not an angel, what exactly are you?' Tim asked. He was beginning to think he was losing the thread and he was growing steadily more sure that this girl was a brick or two short of a chimney, but the sound of her voice was almost mesmerising and he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since she had first appeared.

    `Well,' Beatrix replied, slowly, `I suppose I'm what people once described as a fairy. Some people do still believe in us, of course. All this would be far simpler if you were Irish, in fact.'

    `A fairy, eh?' Tim said. `Not a fairy queen, by any chance?' Beatrix shook her head and the sunlight danced amidst her curls.

    `Oh my goodness, no!' she exclaimed. `There are only seven of them. I'm not even a princess, although I suppose in human terms I'd probably rate as a very minor countess. But that's not important, as we don't do things the same way back there.'

    `I'll bet you don't,' Tim agreed. `So, Countess Postwoman, what brings you here today?'

    `You,' Beatrix replied, simply. `You and that horrendous tumour that's eating away at your lungs, not to mention the smaller ones that are even now forming on your liver, kidneys and pancreas.'

    `You seem to know even more than the doctors,' Tim retorted. `They never said anything about smaller tumours.'

    `Because they don't yet know,' Beatrix said. `Your last x-ray was nearly two weeks ago.'

    `How did - ?' Tim began, but stopped short. `Okay, you just know.' He considered for a moment. `Thanks for the good news,' he continued, eventually. `I knew I didn't have that long to go, but if my liver goes, it'll be even sooner than I'd hoped. They did say it was a likely prognosis.'

    `The good news is that you don't have to die at all,' Beatrix said, very quietly. Tim stared at her, a sudden rush of anger threatening to overwhelm him.

    `That's not bloody funny!' he snapped. `The chance of any remission passed months back. In fact, they're amazed I've even lasted this long. Without the chemo, I'd be dead already, but even that can only slow things so long.'

    `I can understand you reacting like that,' she said. `But I am not making some awful joke at your expense. I really can help you.'

    Tim sighed, heavily and leaned backwards, stretching out his arms to take his weight. His patience was rapidly becoming exhausted. A few moments ago, he had been enjoying this girl's company, quite prepared not to let her extravagant tissue of lies upset him, in exchange for the pleasure that seeing and listening to her had been giving him, but now she was beginning to grate on him.

    `Listen, lady,' he said, through gritted teeth, `I've been seen by every bloody Tom, Dick and over-qualified Harry in the medical profession, so what the hell do you think you can do?'

    `Can I ask you a question? Do you know,' she continued, without waiting for an answer, `where my name, Beatrix, comes from?'

    `I presume it's nothing to do with that other teller of fairytales,' Tim sneered. `Not if you're supposed to be three or four thousand years old, as you claim.'

    `Nearer five, actually,' Beatrix said, brightly, `but more of that later. No, Tim, my name means `Bringer of Joy' and that's what I can do for you. But, in return, I need something from you.'

    `Money?' She shook her curls again.

    `Don't be silly; I can have any amount of money I need. No, I need you to do something very personal for me. I need you to make love to me.'

    Tim only just managed to stop himself from toppling backwards.

    `What?' he squeaked. `You mean as in having sex?' Beatrix nodded, solemnly.

    `As in having sex,' she confirmed. Tim was at a loss.

    `But why?' he almost choked. `I mean, don't get me wrong, a man would have to be mad not to fancy you like crazy, but we've only just met.'

    `No, you've only just met me,' Beatrix corrected him. `I've been quite close to you for some time.'

    `Same difference, as far as I'm concerned,' Tim retorted. Beatrix's smile returned again.

    `Quite old fashioned, really, aren't you?' she said. `But I am serious. You see, I am only a few months - human months, that is - away from what in your terms would be my five thousandth birthday and I have to mate to produce my offspring, otherwise I will very quickly die.'

    `I thought fairies only died when people - children - stopped believing in them,' Tim quipped. He was beginning to see a definite plus side to the latest turn of events.

    `Oh, fairies can die all right,' Beatrix assured him. `Only we generally manage to avoid it, if we're sensible. And I am most definitely sensible. That is why I am asking you if you will mate with me. If you do, you will also become immortal, exactly the way I am.'

    `Yeah? You don't say?' Again, Tim could not hide the smile on his face. `You mean I live forever, cancer or no cancer?'

    `That's it, exactly.' Tim shrugged.

    `Well, I guess I've got nothing to lose, really. If you're having me on, which you absolutely have to be, then I'm going to be dead in a few weeks anyway and at least I get to make love to a gorgeous female.'

    `Thank you again for the compliment,' beatrix said. `Does that mean you agree? Only it's a bit more complex than that.'

    `It is? You mean we have to do it in some sort of different way?' Tim suggested. `Or do we go over in the middle of those daisies first?'

    `No, we do it exactly the same way as humans,' Beatrix said. `Or so I'm told. You see, I never have before. The urges don't come until this time of my cycle. Of course, there are some of us who do it anyway, just for enjoyment, but I could never see the point of it before. It just seemed like a lot of huffing and puffing and perspiring bodies everywhere.'

    `Fairies sweat, then?'

    `The correct term is perspire,' Beatrix rebuked him. `Sweating is a common thing.'

    `So is sex, where I come from,' Tim laughed. `But if that's not it, what's so different, or so difficult?'

    `Nothing as far as the mating is concerned,' she replied, coolly. She was already reaching behind her back, fumbling with the zip on her dress. `But it's what happens to you afterwards that is the thing. That's why we generally only offer ourselves to someone who has nothing to lose anyway.'

    `Exactly!' Tim exclaimed. `And that's all that interests me. Immortality or not, my sweet, I fancy you like mad and if you want it half as badly as I do, then what are we waiting for?'

    `Oh, I do,' Beatrix said, shrugging the thin material from her shoulders, to reveal a perfectly formed pair of breasts that simply disdained the need for any man-made support. Tim sucked in his breath at the sight of her and bent forward to untie the laces of his shoes ...

    `The thing is, she was telling the truth about one thing,' Tim said. `She was most definitely a virgin.' Across the table, Marcus Featherstone's face was wreathed in smiles. Tim's tale was certainly outlandish, but it had been told well and his oldest friend certainly looked a lot healthier than he had in many a long month. Even his hair had grown back and was glossy and sleek, if several shades lighter than it had once been.

    `I know the whole thing sounds crazy - Jeez, it is crazy,' Tim continued, `but there's no getting away from the fact that I've gone into full remission. The quacks are positive about that.'

    `Have you tried finding out if you really are immortal?' Marcus quipped.

    `Short of jumping off a building, I don't see how I could,' Tim laughed. `Besides, she said that fairies could die, they just had the facility to live forever if they were careful. And, having been given the reprieve I've had, I don't fancy any foolhardy experiments.'

    `So, what happened to your fairy godmother afterwards?'

    `Well, I don't know,' Tim admitted, a trifle sheepishly. `The sex was quite amazing. Whatever else Beatrix might be, she was certainly one hell of a fuck. I could have believed she'd been waiting five millenia, the way she went. Trouble was, I was so knackered afterwards that I just sort of ... well, dozed off.

    `I wasn't asleep that long, but when I opened my eyes, she was gone.'

    `Back beyond her veil?'

    `Who knows?' Tim shrugged. `But here's the spooky bit. I sat up and ran my hand over my head - it's a habit I've had since I was a kiddie - and guess what? I had stubble. An hour or so earlier, I'd looked like a billiard ball and yet now my hair had started to grow back. And another thing,' he continued.

    `I found my way straight back to the main path without any trouble, just as Beatrix predicted. Five minutes, that was all it took and yet I'd been thrashing about for an hour to get there.'

    Marcus sat back and relit his cigar. `And just how long ago was all this?' he asked. He did not believe a word of it, but Tim evidently put some credence in it.

    `Three weeks,' Tim replied. `Twenty two days, to be precise.'

    `So, allowing for the time span since your previous x-ray, your cancer cleared itself up in no more than five weeks.'

    `Precisely! The doctors couldn't believe it when they examined me yesterday. They reran every test in the book to make sure.'

    `And now you really believe this dotty bird might have been a fairy?' Marcus grinned.

    `I don't know what I believe,' Tim retorted. `But I do know one thing. On Saturday, I intend to try to find that clearing again and see if she turns up.'

    To his surprise, when Saturday came, Tim found the clearing quite easily, as easily, in fact, as he had found his way back from it three and a half weeks earlier. But, though he sat and waited for nearly three hours, there was no sign of Beatrix. A little crestfallen, he returned home.

    The following Saturday, however, he could not resist the urge to return for another chance of seeing the beautiful blonde. However, it proved to be another fruitless vigil, as did the following Saturday and the one after that. For the next month or so, Tim made no further pilgrimages, but then he did try again. The result was another blank.

    About this time, though, he had another problem with which to contend, for his nipples both suddenly became swollen and quite sore. He tried a few proprietary ointments, but, although the irritation quickly subsided, the nipples did not. In fact, to his horror, he appeared to be developing two small, but very definite breasts for them to perch on.

    Thoroughly embarrassed, he put off visiting the doctor with this affliction until the two mounds were unmistakable. He needed a very loose fitting jumper to disguise his newly aquired assets for the journey to the surgery. The doctor, who had known Tim since his childhood, professed himself quite perplexed.

    `Ah don't know, laddie,' he said, in his gruff Glaswegian accent. `Ye'll need tae have some tests at yon hospital. I'll have Gladys ring up and she'll let ye know. Mind ye, it could be a while before they can fit ye in. Yon's not a life threatening condition, at least, nae that I can see.'

    `But it is bloody embarrassing, doc,' Tim complained. The old man shrugged and coughed to clear his throat.

    `Listen, y'wee beggar,' he said, `a few weeks ago y'were a-dying and now yer complaining about a wee pair of girlie titties. Stop yer frettin' and get on wi'life. We'll sort it all out in good time. meanwhile, go see Nurse Fletcher and have her weigh you and all the usual stuff. Yon hospital will be pesterin' me for your regular checkup results from now on.'

    The results of Nurse Fletcher's tests were also mildly perturbing, for her records showed that Tim had lost nearly two inches in height, though none of his trousers had appeared too long, as he pointed out to the woman. She scrutinised him carefully and then took out a cloth tape measure.

    `It's gone from the waist up, mostly,' she announced, a few minutes or so later. `Curious, that is. You see,' she explained, `women are generally longer in the leg in comparison to men. And you seem to be putting on a bit of weight around the hips, too.'

    She measured him to confirm her suspicions. `I'll tell doctor,' she said, `and I think you ought to come back in a fortnight, whether the hospital has been in touch, or not.'

    But long before a fortnight was up, Tim already knew what was happening to him. He remembered now and only now, the warning Beatrix had given him. Mating with her would not only make him immortal, too, it would make him just like her.

    In every way

    He sold the flat, withdrew his life savings and rented a remote cottage, telling the estate agent that he was doing so on behalf of a Miss Tania Bellamy. In the few days he had before he was due to vacate the flat, he spent a lot of time shopping in the next town, moving his purchases to his new home under cover of darkness and finally moving in himself in the early hours of a Friday morning.

    A week later, anyone happening past The Laurels would have seen a pretty young woman, dressed in slacks and a white cotton blouse, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, busily - indeed angrily - pulling daisies from the front lawn. However, few people ever did pass the cottage, which was near the end of a lane that had once led to a now abandoned abbatoir and so Miss Tania Bellamy, who had once been Tim Gideon, worked on undisturbed.

    Undisturbed, that is, except by the final changes that were happening to his body beneath his feminine clothes. His breasts were now well formed and generous, yet they stood without support in exactly the same way as had Beatrix's. He had grown shorter still, though his legs were very long, even longer in proportion than when the nurse had last measured him.

    There was also very little left of his manhood, which had been shrinking at an alarming rate, whilst, in its place, was quickly developing an unmistakable female vagina. With his widening hips and rounded buttocks, Tim knew that he could hardly even think of himself as a man anymore and, when he looked into the mirror, the sad face that stared out at him had wide lips, high cheekbones and a pert nose, at either side of which were two huge almond shaped eyes, the pupils of which were steadily growing greener ...

    It was late spring when Tania Bellamy parked her car in the gravelled area at the edge of the woods. She slipped off her stiletto heeled shoes and replaced them with a more sensible pair of flat heeled sandals, picked up her handbag and set off along the main path.

    The clearing looked exactly the same as it had done when Tim had first found it almost exactly one year earlier. The daisies gleamed whitely against their green carpet and the sun shone almost overhead. Laurie moved to the edge of the circle of little flowers, sat down and waited.

    The figure appeared from out of thin air, standing on the darker mauve patch where Tim had first seen Beatrix twelve months earlier, but this time it was not her, but a young man, equally as fair, equally as striking in appearance and he was carrying a small bundle.

    `Hello, Tania,' he said, his musical voice as light in the air as had been his female predecessor's. `I've brought someone to see you. No, don't stand up.' The young man squatted down beside Tania and pulled back the shawl. The tiny little face, with its deep green and gold eyes, peered up at her.

    `Meet your daughter,' the young man said. `Her name is Venetia. I stayed in Venice once and it was really lovely. I hope you approve of the name.'

    `Very nice,' Tania/Tim replied, slowly. `But who are you? Are you Beatrix's fairy husband, or what?' The young man laughed and shook his head.

    `No. My name is Blaine now, but it wasn't always so.' Tania peered into his face, searching deep in those emerald eyes, whose colour her own now mirrored.

    `It's you!' she breathed. `You're Beatrix - or you were, a year ago!' The young man nodded. 

    `Yes, I was,' he admitted. `And, after Venetia was born, I began changing as you did, for my mating and our daughter's birth has moved me into the second cycle of my being, as will one day happen to you.'

    `One day?' Tania echoed. `You mean like in about five thousand years?' Blaine nodded.

    `About that, yes,' he agreed.

    `And in the meantime?'

    `Well, apart from raising our son, we fairies still have a lot of responsibilities, even in these heathen times.'

    `And what about me - us, I mean? Am I expected - ?'

    `You are my wife now and that is the law. In our world, there is no divorce.' Tania jumped to her feet, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

    `You mean I'm expected to - ?' Blaine cut her short with a tinkling laugh and stood up, still carefully cradling his precious bundle.

    `Don't worry, my darling Tania,' he said, holding out his free hand for hers. `Remember, I once told you, we don't very often get the urge, except when mating time comes around. Mind you, I am intrigued to find out how this new body performs in certain respects. Maybe, given time, you will feel the same.'

    They linked hands. Blaine nodded towards the central circle.

    `Shall we go?' he suggested. Tania made to pull back, but his grip was strong.

    `Where to?' she asked, her voice little more than a croak. Blaine smiled.

    `Well, as we seem to have completed another link in the daisy chain of our eternal existance,' he said, `I suggest we go home.'