- 3 -
"Samantha, whatever have you done?" said Endora, examining her transformed son-in-law closely.
"That's just it mother, I don't know. My first pass last night should've worked. I used the universal reset spell that restores an object or person to their original form. It's one of the first spells we learn. Magic doesn't get more basic than that. When it didn't work I used another transformation spell to turn Darrin into, well, Darrin. But it obviously didn't take properly, and half an hour ago it failed."
"Wait, what's this about different types of spells?" asked Darrin. "I thought you waved your arms and stuff just magically happened for you."
"What you don't know about magic would fill an ocean, young man," said Endora. "Our magical power may be part of us but of course we use spells to direct it. We just don't verbalise them. Well, most of us don't. Clara has reached the point where she's having to sound them out. Then there are the children..."
"Is this really the time to be explaining this stuff?" said Samantha.
"No, you're right," said Endora, "so let's get back to your husband. Why make him an old woman in the first place? I mean, yes, I understand you transforming Dobbin into someone this Mr Thunderbolt whatshisname wouldn't assault, but why an old woman? Why not a young child?"
"Yes, why, Sam?" said Darrin, his tone indignant. "I'd like to know the answer to that one myself."
Unlike the others he was sitting in an armchair because his joints ached and standing for any length of time was something he now found too tiring.
"I don't know why," said Samantha, biting her lip, "it just popped into my head in the heat of the moment."
"Well, whatever you did is beyond my ability to undo," said Endora. "This looks like a job for Doctor Bombay."
"Doctor who?"
"Oh, that's right, you haven't met him yet have you, darling," said Samantha. "Doctor Bombay is a warlock who specialises in magical maladies, arcane ailments, and sorcerous sicknesses. If anyone can fix this he can."
Endora drew herself up and chanted:
"Calling Dr. Bombay, calling Dr. Bombay. Emergency, come right away."
There was a flash of smoke and the doctor appeared in the room. He was younger than Darrin expected, brown-haired, movie-star handsome, and dressed in a sharp suit.
"Andrew?" said Samantha, frowning. "Where's Dr. Bombay?"
So this wasn't the doctor. Whoever he was, Samantha obviously knew him.
"Good to see you too, Samantha," he said. His accent was English.
Like most Americans, Darrin was only aware of three English accents: posh, cockney, and the Beatles' Liverpool one. Having recently seen Dick van Dyke's impressive performance in the new Mary Poppins movie he now recognised cockney and this wasn't that, nor did Andrew sound like Ringo. Which meant this suave newcomer must be a posh Limey. Fine, but Darrin was none too pleased by how he was looking at Samantha.
"Dr. Bombay's on sabbatical at a Tibetan retreat recharging his powers."
"Oh, that's right!" said Endora, slapping her forehead. "How could I have forgotten? Do you know when we can expect to see him again, Andrew?"
"Not for another year or so. I've been covering for him while he's away."
"Isn't anyone going to introduce us?" Darrin asked, testily.
"Oh, sorry, where are my manners? I'm Andrew Fortnum, and you must be the patient. Please don't get up on my account."
They shook hands.
"Darrin Stephens. Samantha's husband."
"Yes, quite. You seem to be caught in a bit of a pickle." "Yeah, you could say that."
"Well, let's have a good look and you and see if we can't work out what's gone wrong, eh?"
He reached into the inside pocket of his immaculately tailored suit jacket, took out a pair of glasses, and donned them. These were no ordinary spectacles, as Darrin soon realised. Rather than the doctor's eyes, what he saw when he looked into the lenses were swirling patterns similar to those you see in the bottom of a kaleidoscope.
"Oh dear," said Andrew eventually.
"Oh dear? That doesn't sound good."
"I'm afraid it isn't."
"What is it, Andrew?" asked Samantha, biting her lip again.
"There's a reason why your reset spell didn't work, Sam," he said, "the same reason they usually don't work."
"But the only time that happens is when the person or object is already in their natural form so there's nothing to reset."
"Oh my," said Endora, "does that mean this is what I think it is?"
"What?" said Darrin, his eyes flashing from one person to the other. Samantha was looking at the floor and wouldn't meet his gaze. "What does this mean? Please tell me somebody!"
"What it means," said Endora, pursing her lips, "is this is now your natural form, not your transformed one. Somehow the two got switched. Which by all the laws of magic should be impossible."
"But you can switch them back right, doc."
"I'm afraid I don't know how to. No one does."
"There's only ever been one known case like this," said Endora, "and that was centuries ago, before Samantha was born. A warlock who had taken a mortal wife and wanted to stay with her forever was trying to make her immortal. In his quest he transformed her many times until eventally, somehow, the same thing that happened to you happened to her and she found herself locked in one of those other forms."
"'Locked'," said Darren. "What exactly do you mean by 'locked'?"
"She means you're immune to transformation magic," explained Andrew. "Not only is this now your natural form but no one can transform you in any way. Sam's spell turning you into Darrin only lasted as long as it did because your body hadn't yet fully settled into this form. Now it has."
"So that's it?! You're telling me I'm stuck as an old lady forever?!"
"You'll live out your normal mortal span just as the warlock's wife did but, yes, this is now you as you'll always be. In her haste to protect you from a beating Samantha made an error of some sort in her spell. By a million-to-one chance, it must be the same error the warlock made all those centuries ago. Dr Bombay tried to put things right back then. He took copious notes, conducted countless experiments, but he was never able to replicate the offending spell. I went over all that material as part of my studies with him. He was very thorough. Try as I might I couldn't think of a way of tackling the problem that he hadn't already tried. I'm awfully sorry, Darrin."
This was all Samantha's fault. No matter how many times he told her not to she still found excuses to use magic. In his anger and his fear Darrin would have lashed out at his wife then, but she looked so crestfallen that he bit his tongue instead.
"I'm going to take Durwood away and do something about those dreadful clothes she's wearing," said Endora, shrewdly reading the tensions in the room. "Take care of my daughter while we're gone, would you please Andrew?"
With that she waved her arms in the air and the two of them vanished.
- 4 -
"You referred to me as 'she'!" protested Darrin when they appeared at their destination.
"Yes, I did," said Endora, "because it's now the correct gender pronoun for you. Weren't you listening when Andrew explained everything?"
"Of course I was and..." He stopped as it dawned on him where they were. "Say, this is our upstairs guest room. You only transported us twenty feet, Endora."
"Exactly. Now be quiet for a minute and let me think. Hmmm."
Once again she waved her arms, and Darrin found himself wearing a sleeveless, boat-necked floral pattern dress that fell straight from his shoulders to mid-calf, and shoes with a chunky one-inch heel.
"What is this," he said, looking down at himself, "and what the heck am I wearing underneath? It feels really weird."
"That's an age-appropriate dress for a mortal woman of your years, and what you have on beneath it is a body-shaping corselette with garter straps that your elasticated stockings are clipped to."
"But why?"
"Because in the first place you're now a woman," said Endora. "You're also one in the second place, and when we reach a certain age we girls need help keeping everything where it should be. I assume you've looked under your clothing before now?"
"Well, yeah. I went to the bathroom just before you got here and checked everything out. I still hoped it might all be a bad dream but I'm a woman alright, and an old one at that."
"Exactly, so however unfamiliar your new underwear might be, doesn't it feel better to have your breasts and belly properly supported?"
"I guess," Darrin replied, grudgingly. Then he noticed his Victorian clothing lying on the bed.
"I thought you'd just transformed what I was wearing but here it is," he said, picking it up. "What gives, Endora?"
"I can no more transform that clothing than I can transform you. It also resulted from Samantha's spell, remember? So instead I swapped it out for the clothes you're wearing and laid it aside for Andrew to examine. He can test it to destruction if he needs to, after all, and he may discover something useful in the process. Still, it is odd."
"What is?"
"That Samantha should have made you look like Whistler's Mother rather than someone more modern."
"Sam made the very same comparison."
"I can't imagine what was going through that girl's mind when she cast her spell. Right, I shall need your glasses, too."
"Why?"
"Because they were also created by the spell."
Reluctantly, Darren passed them to her.
"I had perfect 20-20 vision," he said, "now everything is super blurry without them."
"Take these," said Endora, handing him a substitute pair she had just summoned up. "Same prescription but more contemporary frames. Now let's see about the rest of your wardrobe."
Endora stood before the empty closet, made a gesture, and it was suddenly fully stocked. There were coats and dresses on hangers, hats and purses on the overhead shelf, and rows of shoes on the floor.
"You'll also find underwear, hosiery, nightdresses and the like in the chest of drawers."
"What, no pants?" said Darrin, staring at the contents of the closet in dismay.
"A woman your age wouldn't be caught dead in pants. They're terribly unflattering to the older, thicker figure."
"But why put the clothes here? Why not in the closets in the master bedroom?"
"Oh dear me, no," said Endora. "I don't know what story you and Samantha will concoct to explain where her husband has gone and why an elderly female relative is now living here, but you'll have to maintain the illusion that you're a guest in this house. Anything else just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all."
Darrin was still dealing with the shock of his transformation so had not thought that far ahead, but Endora had a point.
"I guess I can see that," he reluctantly conceeded.
"Now grab a hat and coat. Oh, and a purse - no woman would go anywhere without her purse. We have to do something about your hair, and I know the perfect place."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Oh darling, *everything's* wrong with your hair! Undo that bun and it will be long, lank, and shapeless. Now, come along."
Reluctantly, Darrin selected a hat, a purse, and one of the coats from the closet, all of them mid-calf length, and the pair set off once again.
Not long afterwards, they could be found reclining side-by-side in chairs at the swanky beauty salon on New York's Fifth Avenue that Endora had transported them to. Their hair having been cut and styled, both now had their heads encased in the large, ovoid dryers that were gently drying that hair.
"So," said Darrin, "Andrew Fortnum. How does he know Samantha?"
"Must we?"
"Yes, Endora, we must."
"Oh, very well. He and Samantha dated for several years until, a decade ago, Andrew decided to accept a position as Dr Bombay's apprentice. This meant being sequestered away from the world for many years and committing totally to the doctor. I think Andrew expected Samantha to wait for him, but then she met you."
"Do I detect a slight note of disapproval towards Andrew in your tone?"
"Yes, but only because of his age. He's awfully young, barely a century old, but then my daughter always did have a taste for younger men. Still, deciding to apprentice to Dr Bombay proved he wasn't the callow youth he sometimes seemed to be, so perhaps I misjudged him."
"I'm intrigued by this Dr Bombay. Does your community have a lot of doctors specialising in magical ailments?"
"Some, but none as learned or as dedicated to their calling as he is."
"Do you know what made him so committed to it."
"Oh dear, I thought you'd have worked that out for yourself. Dr Bombay is the warlock who tried and failed to make his mortal wife immortal."