Lost Girl — Girl Found 2. Ready? Fire

Cathy quickly dragged a somewhat bemused Oliver from the kitchen and into her room.

“Phew! Thanks,” Oliver said, sitting on the edge of Cathy’s bed with his head in his hands. “You don’t know how much I needed to get out of there.”

“Get out? Why?” She could see the anguish on his face and she wondered whether she shouldn’t have asked him first before getting him all dressed up for a public appearance. It had after all been many years since they had played dress-up together and anything may have happened in that time. His penchant for dressing in her old clothes could have been a phase and she could well have been wrong: Oliver may not have been the same as her friend’s brother—however sure she may have been at the time.

She may have been young, but there was a feeling she got when Oliver became Olivia; a feeling that told her that the change from male to female was meant to be. He seemed to fit so perfectly that the boy in him just disappeared completely and it was as if they really were two girls together. It really had been as if she had a little sister and not a little brother.

Looking at him sitting on the bed, his head in his hands, the mega confident ‘sister’ she used to play with was not there. She began having doubts about whether any of what she remembered from that period was right at all. Perhaps he really didn’t want anything to do with being Olivia, but then if that were true, surely he wouldn’t have got changed and let her apply the makeup. He wouldn’t have squeezed into those absolutely skin-tight leggings that made her envious of his figure and stare in amazement at how everything just seemed to fit so well.

More importantly, wouldn’t he have baulked at wearing the underwear before he even got that far?

Well, he hadn’t, had he?

Instead, he went all the way and to look at him, you’d never have had even the slightest inkling he was anything other than the girl he had been made up to be. In fact, he was every inch what she was positive he’d grow up to be … even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected—”

He sat up and shook his head slowly before absently using his finger to push the hair that practically covered his face behind his ear.

“It’s not your fault, Cath.”

“What is it then?”

“Look. I love being Olivia—always have done, but … well … it’s just that …”

She sat beside him and put her arm about his shoulders. “What?” she whispered.

“It’s just … well … I didn’t think for one moment that the first time I’d had an opportunity to be her in God knows how long, It’d be in front of a house full of people.”

“But you’re not; there’s only me and Claudine.”

“At the moment, perhaps, but what about the girl you got these from?” he asked, plucking at the top he was wearing and wiggling the boots.

“She’s in her room,” Cathy admitted. “And she probably won’t come out either. She doesn’t like parties.”

“And the others?”

Cathy looked a little sheepish. “Well, okay…”

“See, that’s it. I don’t want the people who will be coming, to see me like this.”

“Well that’s certainly not the Olivia I remember,” Cathy stated.

“A lot’s happened since you left.”

“Not good stuff either, I take it.”

“No. After you left, I tried to do as Mum said and not let Olivia out,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t do anything for what must have been a year or so after, but I don’t know … I just couldn’t stop.”

“I understand.”

This was not the time they were supposed to be having this conversation. She had envisaged it happening when they were alone and everything was much less fraught. True, ‘fraught’ is perhaps a little strong, but Oliver was clearly uncomfortable for whatever reason and she really wanted him to be comfortable. Sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table over coffees would have been a lot more convivial than him already being on the back foot being pressed into being Olivia for a party.

Nevertheless, it was going to have to do. She felt she’d already got him to at least partially admit to what she already thought she knew, but more than that, she wanted him to feel comfortable with whatever he was and she wasn’t sure what form her brother’s propensity for dressing as a girl took: whether it was transvestism or whether he was actually transsexual. Whichever form it took, he evidently needed to express it and she knew he was being held back—something that could cause irreparable damage.

“I’m glad you understand. Mum didn’t and I’m not sure I do either.”

“I can see that being an issue.”

“Yeah–” he said, with an ironic chuckle. “I kind of realised that there was something about me that was … different.”

“You wanted to be Olivia more of the time?”

“Yes, but I haven’t had the guts to do it.”

Cathy nodded sagely. She’d been right. Even back then she knew her brother wasn’t ordinary or average. Though at the time, she didn’t know why, she knew Oliver wasn’t the little boy everyone else thought he was. “So really, being here is good.”

“Yeah, but now I’m here and looking like a million bucks or whatever, I don’t feel I’ve got the nerve to go through with it.”

“I can understand, but think of how you were with Claudine.”

“I suppose,” he muttered, looking at his boots. “But I just know something’s going to go wrong.”

“Go wrong? That’s very negative, Sis.” She stared at him thinking that she understood what he was going through, likening it to being poised ready to jump out of an aeroplane or taking that first bungy jump. She tried a little encouragement. “I mean, come on, what can possibly go wrong?”

Oliver sat up, a look of determination on his face. “I was alright with Claudine, wasn’t I?”

“Better than alright, I’d have said.”

“And this is what I want, so I have to start somewhere, don’t I?”

“Yup.”

“So here’s as good a place as any, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way to do it, Sis!” She put her arm round him and gave him a hug.

“Thanks, Cathy. I really needed that.”

“My pleasure,” she said with a smile. “Ready?”

“Not sure, but let’s go anyway.”

By the time the two ‘girls’ got out, partygoers — or should that be comers? — were already beginning to arrive.

Oliver was clearly tense, but as he passed the kitchen, he was pounced on by an extremely attentive Claudine.

“Who’s the new girl?” Cathy’s friend Greg asked, looking Oliver up and down as he disappeared down the hallway on Claudine’s arm.

“That’s Olivia. We’re old friends. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since I was about ten or eleven.”

“I’d love to see more of her. She looks just like that bird off the telly,” Greg said, almost drooling.

Suddenly Cathy wasn’t so comfortable letting her younger brother out into the party looking like he did. He was extremely convincing as he was and having already convinced Claudine, it was likely he’d convince others too. The fact was, after a few drinks, many of the blokes who were likely to be turning up would be after Olivia and she wasn’t sure how Oliver was going to take that.

‘I’m going to have to keep an eye on her,’ she thought.

~oOo~

Oliver left the safety of Cathy’s room, and tottered down the hall. ‘I will< get used to these things,’ he thought, looking down at the boots. As he passed the kitchen, there was a squeal from inside the room and all of a sudden, two arms clamped round him and Claudine was there.

“You came back,” she purred.

“Er, yes,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, goodie!” Claudine said, clapping her hands together. “There are some people I’d like you to meet.” She threaded her arm through his and led him further down the hall to the lounge.

Oliver was practically on sensory overload. All his nerve endings were jangling in a very pleasant manner as he could taste the lipstick he wore, which reminded him of the other makeup Cathy had applied to his face. The hair of the wig he wore brushed against his face and neck and every so often, he was reminded of the underwear he wore—mostly thanks to the bra. As for the leggings and boots … well, they just helped push him over the edge.

He looked good and what was more, he felt good too. It was the first time he’d been able to be ‘en femme’ and really experience what it was like to appear to others the way he’d always hoped he could.

‘I really wish it could always be like this,’ he thought.

Oliver followed Claudine into the large, high-ceilinged room when what sounded like a door slamming really hard during an earthquake made everyone there stop what they were doing. For a few moments, no-one spoke. In fact, it seemed like no-one even breathed. Oliver had just about crossed the threshold into the lounge when the bang stunned them all into silence. He froze; rooted to the spot as everywhere else in the room, people looked as though someone had pressed a universal pause button and everyone simply stopped in mid-flight.

“What the—” asked one guy, who was sitting on the sofa with some heavily made up girl that despite liberal applications of war paint, didn’t look old enough to be there.

“I’ll go check,” Claudine offered and literally turned on her heels, passing Oliver as she headed out of the lounge and into the hall, gathering momentum with every step.

Oliver felt all eyes were on him and immediately, his confidence crashed. He’d hoped he would just melt into the background, but dressed as he was, that wasn’t at all likely. “Um …” he said, expecting something, but instead, they just turned to one another and began discussing what they thought the noise and the rumbling could have been.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t like being the centre of attention and since no-one appeared to care whether he was there or not, he quickly turned and left the lounge, catching a glimpse of Claudine as she headed into one of the other girl’s rooms.

As he approached, he heard voices.

“What the hell was that?” he heard Claudine ask.

“What?” the other girl demanded.

“That bang. It shook the floor in the lounge. Oh come on, Daphne. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear it.”

“Not really,” Daphne replied absently. “I had my ears in.”

“Oh you’re no good,” Claudine exclaimed.

By this time, Cathy and another girl had come out of their respective rooms and were heading towards him, just as Claudine exited Daphne’s room.

“Did you two hear that too?” Claudine asked.

“Yes. What was it?” asked the girl, whose name Oliver didn’t know.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“How would I know?”

“Stop! It’s nothing to worry about. It was probably just someone slamming a door downstairs.”

“We’ve heard that before. It wasn’t a door slamming. The whole building shook, Cath,” Claudine pointed out.

“I really didn’t want you to say that, but you’re right. Perhaps we’d better go check it out then.” Cathy suggested.

“Check it out?” the other girl asked in no more than a squeak. “What if it was a gunshot,” she managed, clearly scared.

Cathy and Claudine looked at one another, rolled their eyes and shook their heads sadly.

“I think you’re safe there, Karen. I don’t think a gunshot would be enough to make the building shake.”

Oliver could see that despite what he’d seen in horror films, the girls weren’t about to start a stampede to check out whatever it was that had happened. In a way, he was disappointed, but not overly surprised. He’d never been able to comprehend why everyone was always so keen to check out the noises emanating from the dark cellar or the strange, ghostly lights in the woods on a moonless night.

No, reality was much more prosaic. Instead of charging off to investigate, these girls hypothesised about what they thought the noise might have been and didn’t appear to go anywhere near what they should do about it, despite the level of importance they had clearly given it.

He decided to take the bull by the horns and go and see for himself rather than wait for them to stop yacking and actually go and see what the problem might have been. Seconds later he was heading out to the top of the stairs.

Once there, he pushed the timer switch and the lights came on, casting a soft, yellow glow over everything. A curious smell pervaded the stairway, but he remembered that it was a little funky when he arrived. Other than that, there didn’t appear to be anything untoward. Heading downstairs, he gripped the banister rail tightly, tying to remain upright in his heels.

One floor down and he spotted what looked like mist coming from under the door of the flat immediately below Cathy’s. The closer he got, the more of it was escaping. By the time he reached the door, it was obvious what was coming out of the flat…

Smoke.

He banged on the door. “Hello?” he shouted. “Anyone in there?”

There was no direct reply, but he could hear something coming from behind the door and meanwhile, the girls had evidently noticed he was missing.

“What the hell are you doing?” Claudine yelled from above.

Smoke poured from under the door and try as he might, Oliver could not get anyone inside to hear him. “Hello? Is there anyone in there?!” he shouted and began coughing.

“What is it, Liv?” Claudine shouted.

“Fire!” Oliver called back.

“Get away from there!” Cathy shouted as she and Claudine began coming down after him.

“Never mind me,” he called. “Get the others out of the flat and phone the fire brigade!” He began another bout of coughing. “This door’s getting hot and I don’t know how long it will hold the—cough—fire back.”

“Are you alright, Liv?”

“I’ll live,” he spluttered, chuckling inwardly at his own little joke. “But I don’t know about whoever’s in there.”

“Just come away from there,” Cathy called.

“I’m fine,” he assured, but his eyes were already stinging from the rising smoke.

Oliver went to bang on the door one last time, but through the smoke, he could see the paint was beginning to blister and he had no choice but to get away.

He took a small step backwards and the next thing he knew was he was experiencing a kind of weightlessness. He could see little, but he could tell he wasn’t upright, in fact, it felt as though he was tumbling slowly.

The sensation didn’t last long as with a bone-shattering thud, he landed on his back, banging the back of his head on the landing below and that was the last thing he remembered.