Lost Girl — Girl Found ;

Cathy Jones stepped into the café in the shopping centre Saturday morning, as at one of the tables sat her brother, Oliver.

“Is it really you?” he asked, tears springing from his eyes.

“Of course it’s me, dimwit!” she said, shaking her head at how much her little brother had grown. He couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve the last time she saw him and at nineteen…

Oliver couldn’t get out from behind the table quickly enough and they embraced.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, between sniffles that were ill-disguised.

“And you’re a lot bigger than I expected,” she told him, giving him a tight hug.

“It happens. You didn’t honestly think I would stay a tiny little twerp forever, did you?”

“I suppose not,” she agreed and laughed. “mind you, you’re not exactly huge now, are you?”

“Thanks. I’ve really missed you too,” he said.

“And I you.”

They broke apart and stood looking at one another for a while before Cathy spoke.

“I thought it was you as I was going past. I just had to come in and say hello.” She looked at the floor. “Now I feel really guilty.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve probably got loads of questions and so have I, but I just don’t have the time right now to answer them.”

“You’re not stopping—not even for a coffee?”

“Can’t,” she said. “I have things to do, but I’d really like us to get together—just the two of us—so that we can have a damned good natter.”

“I’d like that too.”

“In the meantime, I’m having a party tonight—fancy dress. You’re coming.”

“I am?”

“Of course. I’d like nothing more than to show off my little brother. I’ve told people so much about you. You’ve got to be there.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. You doing anything?”

“No … we-ell … I suppose I can record Lost Girl.”

“You’re impossible,” she laughed. “So you set the recorder and then you come.”

“I would if—”

“Here’s my address,” she said, cutting him off mid flight.

And that was that. They hugged again and she turned to leave.

“See you there,” she called over her shoulder and left Oliver wondering what had just happened.

~oOo~

For the rest of the morning and afternoon, Oliver fretted about going to Cathy’s party and wondered what he was going to wear. There weren’t that many places where he could get a costume, let alone one at such short notice. The only ones he found were those pathetic little plastic children’s sets that weren’t even much cop for kids.

By four that afternoon, he’d decided on nothing. There were sure to be others there dressed in normal clothes, he wouldn’t feel in the least bit out of place, but best of all, he would get to see and perhaps spend time with, his big sister.

So, in his best clothes, he made his way across town to his sister’s, but the closer he got, the more the little scared voice in his head told him that he didn’t want to be there.

It was funny—or should that be ironic—that the one person in this world he used to trust above all others, was the one person he was having so many doubts about right then. Cathy was more like a mother to him most of the time than a sister and he looked up to her. He turned right on Castle Street and headed up the road, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and puffing out large vapour clouds in the cold October air.

Further up the road, those happy thoughts of Cathy became troubled as his mother’s image entered his mind.

“What on earth do you think you’re playing at?” she demanded of Cathy; a favourite expression of hers.

His sister simply stood and with that look of dumb insolence, stared her mother down. As far as Cathy had been concerned, their mother was the last person who should be questioning her motives.

‘Hmm,’ Oliver thought, passing Royal Gardens and crossing the road. ‘I remember that—very clearly.’

Their mother was a career woman. One who had taken time off to have kids—or rather, just the one and had wound up with one that was completely unexpected: Oliver, some four years later.

Cathy had been the one child she wanted. After her, there weren’t supposed to have been any more. Oliver’s arrival ‘put a spanner in the works’. Something he and Cathy were constantly reminded of.

When their dad left, they seemed to get blamed for everything. She spent long hours at the office, leaving Cathy in charge and then complained if things weren’t perfect. Many’s the time Cathy got into trouble for things that weren’t of her doing and sometimes, weren’t the fault of either of them. That didn’t matter to their mother. Any excuse for her to tell them what an incredible disappointment they were was enough.

Dredging those memories up was emotional. Oliver sat on a garden wall, the cold of the bricks quickly sapping the warmth from his behind. He could feel the water works beginning and quickly, he rubbed at his eyes. He’d done so well to push all those nasty memories out of his mind and right then inside a few minutes, his sister brought them all sharply back into focus.

“Should I go?” he muttered to himself, standing and screwing his face up in thought. “It would be nice to see Cathy, wouldn’t it?”

‘Yes,’ he thought and made his way out of Royal Gardens and into King Street. Cathy’s road was just up ahead on the left. Her house was one of those big old Regency buildings, but he doubted that she had anything more than a little flat. Some minutes later, he found himself looking at a large array of bell-pushes, each with someone’s name typed on a piece of paper, illuminated from behind.

‘C. Jones’, the bell’s label read and Oliver pushed it, quickly shoving his hands deep into his pockets and bracing himself against the cold.

A loudspeaker from within the bell-push unit crackled and a girl’s voice came out, fuzzy and distorted. “Come up.”

The door buzzed and Oliver pushed against it, the strong spring making the door hard to open.

The speaker crackled again. “Oh, push it 'ard. That door’s a real pig.”

The large hallway was decorated in magnolia paint, which seemed to scream at the beautiful black and white checkerboard floor tiles reminiscent of the era and a fly-blown sixty-watt dangled from old, dust-covered, purple flex—the kind one found on old appliances.

Oliver looked up at the wide staircase that wound its way up the inside of the building. A head poked over the top.

“You must be Oliver. Come on up.”

Oliver smiled and made his way up what felt like countless stairs to the top floor. At the top he was slightly breathless.

“I’m Claudine. Nice to finally meet you,” the blonde in the next-to-nothing dress, which would have been responsible for near instantaneous hypothermia outside, said with a smile. “You’re not what I expected.”

‘What had she expected?’ he wondered as he followed the girl into a spacious flat with loud music coming from one of the rooms off the hallway.

“Cath? Oliver’s here. Oh and you owe me a fiver.”

Cathy came running out of a room further down the hallway. “What?” she queried. “Oh.”

She looked disappointed and Oliver knew he was the reason.

“Come in. Come in,” Cathy said and led him to what turned out to be a huge room off to the right, a bed in one corner and various other bits and pieces around its perimeter. Clothes were strewn across the bed and she wore nothing but a bra and a pair of hot pants that were so tight, even Kylie would have winced.

“You know this is a fancy dress party, right?”

“I know. I couldn’t find anything suitable. It was short notice.”

“I s’pose,” she grudgingly agree. “Still, you’re here.” She flung her arms round him and then pulled away, quickly looking him up and down. “It’s alright. I have just the thing.”

“Just the thing for what?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

With that, she ran out of the room and within the blink of an eye, returned with an armload of clothes.

“You owe me big time,” came a voice from further down the hall.

“I know. Thanks Kris.”

The clothes got dumped unceremoniously on the bed and Cathy returned her attention to Oliver.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked.

“You’ll see. I promise you’ll love it.”

‘I will? You sure?’ he wondered, beginning to feel like he should have listened to the voice in his head after all.

Cathy tuned and held an item of clothing from the new pile on the bed against him.

“Hmm. Not that one, but I think I’m on the right track.”

After several attempts, an outfit was compiled and Cathy was beginning to look very pleased with herself. Oliver on the other hand, was beginning to look decidedly nervous.

With her head cocked to one side, Cathy stared at her younger brother. “Well, what are you standing there like that for? Come on. Strip.”

“W-what!?” he asked, blanching.

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I-I-I …”

“You don’t know? You never used to be like this. It was all I could do to stop you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Fibber!”

He looked guiltily at the floor. “It’s just–” he began, but Cathy touched his lips with her finger.

“I know,” she whispered. “Now come on. Before everyone else gets here.”

Oliver took the proffered clothes with trembling hands and asked where the bathroom was.

“It’s shared and down the hall. You might want to stay in here.”

Oliver thought about it for a moment. “Okay, but turn round.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me.”

“What?!” she demanded, incredulous. “But I’ve seen you naked loads of times.”

“Not recently and things have changed—if you get my drift.”

“Oh … um … I see.” She turned round and sat on the bed, facing away from him.

Amidst a little stumbling, Oliver got undressed and began picking through the clothing.

“Whose underwear is this?” he asked, holding up an almost transparent g-string.

“Mine.”

“You wear stuff like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, turning round.

“Hey!”

“Sorry. They’re mine. I’ve never got to wear them though.”

Somehow, it didn’t make Oliver feel any better.

“Blimey!” he exclaimed. “There’s not a lot of them, is there?”

“Don’t they fit?” She got up and went to look.

Oliver was about to voice further objections, but she simply ‘shushed’ him.

“They’ll be fine, once um … your … er …it relaxes a bit.”

“I told you not to look.”

“I know what you told me to do, but we don’t have all night.”

“Sorry.”

He calmed down, realising that if she helped, this whole thing would be over much quicker, although, it didn’t go unnoticed that it would mean spending the rest of the night like that.

‘Was that so bad?’ he asked himself.

Probably not, but suddenly, this wasn’t the same as it used to be. This would have been in front of a live audience and involved him wearing much more adult clothing than he'd worn before.

“I think I need to sit down,” he said looking at the finished article in the mirror.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up, Olivia,” Cathy whispered.

Oliver snapped round to face her. He hadn’t heard that name in years, but almost as soon as he did, his expression changed and he stood, gazing at the mirror.

“I have haven’t I?”

“I’ll say.”

“This is so much different to those old school dresses I used to wear.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“How did you know?”

“Lost Girl remember. Just looking at you, I just knew you were Kenzi.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No,” she said. “Just an educated guess.”

“Thank you,” Olivia replied, giving her big sister a hug.

“Come on, sis, it’s makeup time and then we can join the party.”

After about ten minutes of Cathy’s ministrations, Kenzi was ready to go.

“That’s fantastic,” Olivia said, staring in disbelief.

“You’ve worn makeup before, haven’t you?”

“N-n-no,”

“NO?!” Cathy whispered hoarsely, aghast that Olivia had never worn makeup before. “Why not?”

“Isn’t this one of those things we were supposed to catch up with when we were alone?”

“No, I mean …”

“Well it will have to be. Just coming up here brought back a lot of memories for me and not a lot of them were nice. I had to sit down until I’d stopped crying.”

“I take it things got worse after I left?”

“Much, yes.”

“And now?”

“Olivia’s back and although it’s too soon to say for sure, I think she’s going to be a regular visitor.”

“You mean?”

“I’m not promising anything, but I think you and Olivia are going to be having that chat, not you and Oliver.”

The end of the beginning…