Lost Girl — Girl Found 1. Olivia’s First Kiss

Having changed, Oliver gets cold feet

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Oliver was a little stunned and turned back to the mirror to see Olivia looking at him. This time though, she wasn’t a little schoolgirl in a grey smock-dress and knee socks, but an adult female with all the appearance of a femme fatale.

The long, straight, raven-black hair of the wig he’d been given to wear, cascaded down over his shoulders and over the blouse with the black and white Paisley design that shimmered in the light.

His eyes slowly moved down his reflection to the bustier that nipped him in at the waist, giving him the appearance of feminine hips and pushed his boobs—which were no more than a couple of rolled up socks, one in each cup of the black, lace bra—out. From the waist, a short pleated skirt flaired out and further enhanced the look of hips, beneath which, extremely figure-hugging black faux-leather leggings led down to the black over-the-knee boots with killer heels.

“Gulp!”

His eyes darted back up to the pale face that shone from under the hair; the slightly upturned, deep red lips that seemed to hint at a smile, but not quite and those smoky eyes that bored into his own from the glass.

‘She’s back!’ he thought excitedly and right then, Cathy’s voice sounded in his ears.

“Stop staring at yourself in the mirror and go mingle or something, Sis” she instructed. “I need to get changed.”

Oliver looked a little startled. ‘Mingle? On my own?’ he wondered, feeling a little chill run down his spine. No-one other than Cathy and their mother—albeit briefly—had ever seen Olivia.

‘Oh shit!’ he thought, mentally biting his fingernails back to his elbows.

“Go on. You heard me … Shoo!”

Oliver was hastened from Cathy’s room by being pushed and shoved through the doorway. He stood, mouth agape, as the door to Cathy’s room closed. It sounded like a door at Gringotts: one that shuts with a deep, hollow boom.

‘Now what do I do?’

His question was moot, as in less than a heartbeat, Claudine reappeared.

“Oh … er … I’m sorry. I didn’t see you come in.” she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cathy’s friend, Olivia,” he replied, thinking quickly and managing to circumvent the automatic response which made him want to say, “Oliver”.

“Cool,” she said grinning broadly. “I’m Claudine.”

‘She doesn’t even recognise me,’ he thought. “Cathy told me to ‘go mingle’.”

“Mingle? Who with?” Claudine giggled. “It’s a bit early. There’s no-one here yet. Most of the people I know won’t arrive until after the pubs shut.”

“I’m beginning to wish I’d waited until then too.”

“You?” Claudine asked, clearly astonished. “Why?”

“I’m feeling a little self-conscious. This isn’t the way I’d normally dress,” Oliver stated honestly.

“Why?” she asked again. “I mean, it’s not like your outfit is too provocative or anything.”

“You think it’s alright?”

“Of course. I think you look totally stunning. You look like that girl off that telly programme.”

“I do? Which one?”

“You do. Don’t know what it’s called, but she hangs out with some girl called Bo or something.”

“Lost Girl,” Oliver supplied.

“Don’t know.”

The conversation was surreal. The young girl really didn’t seem to have a clue who he was, despite the similarity in names.

“Come with me,” Claudine said at last, linking arms with Oliver and mashing herself up as close as she could get, leading him down the hallway, pointing out various important landmarks on the way. “The toilet’s there on the right, the kitchen’s here and the lounge is down the hall there. Can I get you a drink?”

“Thanks,” Oliver replied, feeling a little less like he stood out like a sore thumb thanks to Claudine’s compliment. Nevertheless, he still didn’t feel particularly comfortable. Perhaps that drink would calm his nerves.

He tottered along on his skyscraper heels into the kitchen behind Claudine where several packs of beer and some bottles of wine, crisps and other nibbles had been laid out on the table and worktops.

“Cathy’s a bit tied up with her brother or something,” Claudine told him. “But you already know that, don’t you? Can you believe he didn’t even turn up in fancy dress? I bet her he wouldn’t and won a fiver. Mind you, there aren’t many men I’ve met who are prepared to dress up for a fancy dress party. Jeans and ‘T’s’ most of them. Totally ruins the spirit of the thing.”

“Uh, I suppose,” Oliver said with a slight smile, not that Claudine noticed.

“Beer okay, Liv?” Claudine asked opening and reaching into the fridge. “We’ve got some cold ones in here. You don’t mind if I call you Liv, do you?”

“Beer’s good,” he replied. “And, yes. Liv’s fine.”

Everything seemed to have gone from zero to two-hundred miles an hour without any warning.

Talk about being dumped in at the deep end.

This was only the second time he’d seen Cathy in God knew how many years and already she had got him dressed as a girl. If that wasn’t enough, he would soon have to mingle with people he didn’t know … well, when they turned up that was.

He was beginning to feel a little angry at Cathy for having put him in this position, but he’d had plenty of opportunity to say no.

But he didn’t, did he?

Taking a long swig from his beer, he looked across at Claudine. She was nice, a little ‘ditzy’ perhaps, but very nice. He wondered if she’d be quite as friendly if she knew that he wasn’t Liv, but Oliver. He wondered how she would take being lied to. He could and probably should after all, have told her that he was Oliver, but that was another thing he didn’t do.

No, he hadn’t told Claudine his real name, nor had he stopped Cathy in her tracks when she’d suggested he dress up as Kenzi for the party.

~oOo~

For the longest time, Oliver had wanted to be Olivia again. Here he was in a perfect position and in the perfect outfit, yet the first thing he wanted to do was to get out of there as fast as possible.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel comfortable; he felt perfectly comfortable in what he was wearing despite what he’d told Claudine. He knew he looked every inch the girl he was portraying and what was more, Claudine hadn’t even batted an eyelid at what lay beneath. No, it was more than that.

Mind you, Claudine wasn’t really someone to gauge anything by, as she seemed far too wrapped up in her own little world, paying little real attention to Olivia. It was no great surprise to discover that she had no idea who she was talking to. More to the point, she showed no apparent awareness of the fact that she wasn’t talking to another girl.

He seemed to be doing alright so far and after realising that, the fear and anxiety he’d been feeling, dissipated slightly. Olivia was standing on her own—so to speak and appeared to be completely convincing. Of course, it was going to take confirmation from others to completely convince Oliver of that.

“So how do you know Cathy?” Claudine asked and without pausing for breath, “I met her in college. She was kind enough to let me stay here in this flat with her. Course, I have to pay rent.” She giggled. “But she made me feel welcome, despite me being lesbian. Does that bother you?”

“Not at a—”

“We’re supposed to live in an age of enlightenment. Live and let live,” she said passing Liv a second beer. “You’d be surprised how many people still have hang-ups about gays and lesbians. Can’t see why. As long as they don’t bother anyone else. You’re not bothered, are you?”

“Er, n—”

“It’s not as if there aren’t any high profile lesbians and gays out there. I mean, look at Ricky Martin and Frazier’s brother, Niles. What’s his name? I mean in real life of course” She giggled again. “Then there’s Jessie J. Well, technically, she’s bi, but she still has sex with other girls and don’t even get me started on Angelina Jolie.”

Oliver blinked a few times as the barrage continued to hit her without so much as a pause. He took a sip from the bottle.

In the background, Claudine continued to rattle on, but Oliver had given up listening, tuning the constant drone out. He didn’t feel uncomfortable around her in the slightest, quite the opposite in fact. He felt a strong attraction to her and probably would have been more attracted if she’d stopped talking for a second or two.

“Hi Olivia!” Cathy said enthusiastically, stepping into the kitchen and stopping Claudine in her tracks. She was dressed in a real daring vampire costume with splits right up to the thighs of her dress and fishnet stockings—the ones with the lacy self supporting tops. Her hair was piled high on her head and her makeup made her look incredible; especially the cherry-red lipstick.

“You look phenomenal, Cath,” the young blonde said, her jaw dropping open. “I was just telling Liv about you letting me stay here. She’s not uncomfortable around me either,” Claudine said with a self-satisfied smile.

Cathy looked at Claudine and then at Oliver and rolled her eyes. “Liv?” she asked.

Oliver nodded.

Cathy smiled and turned to Claudine. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal her away from you, Claud.”

“Hey! Not fair. We were just getting to know each other.”

“I know. Don’t worry, she won’t be far away.”

There it was again, that feminine pronoun. It was as if Cathy didn’t want anyone to know that the young girl dressed as Lost Girl’s, Kenzi, wasn’t a girl after all.

Since changing, it was true that even in his head, that pronoun had been applied—once or twice, but he wasn’t sure it fitted. When he was younger, like most pre-teen kids, he was androgynous enough for it to fit without question, even though it was never anyone other than Cathy who saw it.

However, as he grew up, he became less and less sure that it fitted. He’d hoped one day it would, but his head had been filled with so many horror stories about how the world treated ‘men who parade around as women’, as his mother had put it, that he didn’t dare think about it too often.

“Come on, Liv.”

“Hey wait!” Claudine exclaimed. “You’re not getting away that easily.” She was standing before Oliver in a heartbeat, staring into his eyes. Without warning, she reached up and kissed him full on the lips. “That’s just to make sure you come back.”

---

To be continued ...

Lost Girl — Girl Found 2. Ready? Fire

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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.

---

To be continued…

Lost Girl – Girl Found 3. Missing

The girls watch as the firemen do their thing, only to discover that Olivia is missing ...

Claudine and Cathy stood on the opposite side of the street, shivering as lights flashed and the fire service did its thing.

“Your friends didn’t seem very happy at having to leave,” Claudine observed, her hands shoved as far into the tight pockets of her jeans as she could get them.

Cathy shrugged. “Not my problem. They’d have been less happy if they’d burnt to death, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Claudine agreed.

“Don’t suppose they did either,” Cathy said. “Ken and Brenda did offer us somewhere to stay if we needed it, though.” She shook herself and stared across the road at the doorway to their house. “Ooh! Where’s Olivia? She should be out by now.”

Water gushed down the front steps as fire fighters, covered in sooty grime, marched in and out, dragging their hoses and calling to one another. However, although they brought several people out, from the other flats in the building, many of them coughing and confused, Olivia wasn’t one of them.

Cathy didn’t even get to speak to the Crew Commander until she saw the hoses being rolled up.

“Is there anyone else in there?” Cathy asked.

“No. My men made sure of that. Why?”

Cathy could feel herself beginning to tremble. “My, er, sister is missing.”

“Your sister?” the Crew Commander asked, showing concern.

“Yes. Olivia. She was the one who discovered the fire.”

“She was? And you say you haven’t seen her since—?”

“Since she sent Claudine and I back upstairs to get everyone out of my flat.”

The fireman smiled. “She sounds like a sensible girl, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone other than those who were brought out by the team. All of them have either gone elsewhere or to hospital. I’m sure if she’d been in there, we’d have spotted her. Perhaps she left before we got here. You were already here then, weren’t you?”

“Um … yes, but we didn’t see her leave.”

The Crew Commander rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I doubt she’s still in there, but I’ll be having a last look round shortly, if you don’t mind hanging around.”

The minutes dragged by as she and Claudine waited for the return of the Crew Commander and when he did, the two girls ran across to speak to him.

“Was she there?” Cathy asked.

The Crew Commander shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She must have left before we arrived. She wasn’t in the house.”

Cathy’s heart sank. Oliver was big enough and old enough to look after himself, but what didn’t make any sense was why he had left without saying anything? Why hadn’t he waited for them and made sure they and the others got out okay? After all, he was the one who was most concerned for everyone’s welfare …

“When will we be able to go back in?” Cathy asked.

The Crew Commander chuckled. “Not yet, certainly,” he told her. “You might be wise to try and find somewhere else to stay for tonight. There’s definite smoke and water damage … possibly structural damage too. It may well be unsafe. Not to mention the fact it’s going to smell bad.”

“Oh God!”

Cathy grabbed Claudine’s hand and led her across to the other side of the road.

“What’s wrong?” Claudine asked.

Cathy started to cry. “Olivia’s disappeared,” she sniffed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“She wasn’t there?”

“No.”

“Well where would she have gone?” Claudine asked.

To Cathy, Claudine’s question was like asking someone who’d misplaced their keys, “Where did you have them last?” How stupid was that? If Cathy knew where her brother had gone, she wouldn’t have said what she said.

There had to have been a problem. Something must have happened to have made Oliver just up and leave. She knew she hadn’t seen him for some time, but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have walked out on something like the fire.

Then something dawned on her: Claudine hadn’t said, “Where would he have gone?” but “Where would she have gone?”

Changing the ‘he’ to a ‘she’ made all the difference. Trying to find ‘him’ would have been the devil’s own job, but she was confident that finding ‘her’ was a different matter altogether.

Cathy shook her head. “Of course! Claud? You’re brilliant!” she said and grabbed her flatmate, pulling her tightly to her and planting a big kiss full on her lips.

“Oh … er … wow!” Claudine said, startled. “You haven’t done that before.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, girl,” she said with determination. “I think I know where to look.”

~oOo~

There was a loud 'ringing' in Olivia’s ears and it didn’t seem to want to stop, but she pressed on. She had no idea how long she’d been walking and worse still, no idea where she was. She vaguely recognised some of the places she passed, but she didn’t know where she might have recognised them from.

She stopped momentarily and looked about her, coming to the conclusion that the only thing she could say for certain, was that she was on a darkened street she didn’t recognise, with absolutely no idea which direction she should go to get to somewhere familiar.

The darkness frightened Olivia. As she continued to walk, she realised she was heading into town, however, which town she didn’t know. Some places did have an air of familiarity about them, but why or where from, she didn’t know and as the number of people around her increased, the more frightened she became.

The people were mostly in good spirits, though noisy, as they walked from one place to another. Some couples passed, huddled together in secretive conversation, while others passed in groups of threes, fours or more, most of whom paying her little or no attention, but there were others who stared at her, almost as if they knew her when she walked past, some even turning and watching her.

‘What are they staring at?’ she wondered. The more it happened the more she became sure that there must have been some misunderstanding, some mistake. ‘I don’t know them.’

Her head throbbed almost constantly and although it wasn’t really painful, it was beginning to cause concern. She cautiously touched an area at the back of her head and winced as her fingers came into contact with a large lump.

A young man stopped in front of her, his eyes going wide.

“You’re that bird, aren’t you?” he said, his spotty, pock-marked face breaking into a grin that spread almost from ear to ear.

“What?” she demanded, the fear rising by several notches.

“Hey!” he shouted. “It’s Kenzi.”

The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by a group of adolescent boys, all of whom were leering, edging closer.

“Where’s Bo?” a second youth asked and began laughing.

The group closed in a little further.

“Hey, do you and her, like, kiss and stuff?” another asked, to whoops from the rest, causing them to edge in even closer.

Balling her fists, Olivia screamed at the boys, thrusting her fists down by her sides and stamping her foot. “Leave me alone!”

The boys all roared with laughter.

“Just go away!” she yelled. Pushing her way through them, she ran off down the street and didn’t stop running until her chest hurt too much to continue.

Stopping at a busy main road, she looked about her. As luck would have it, this part of town was familiar. It was the sea front. She could smell the fresh, salty air above the smell of the heavy traffic, which sped past in both directions. To her left, some of the souvenir shops with their brightly coloured sticks of rock, huge lolly pops and other sweets adorning their windows. To her right, hotels, guest houses and squares with neatly manicured lawns.

Just on a corner, she spotted somewhere that brought back some very clear memories; memories of Knickerbocker Glories and sunny days paddling in the sea with her sister. She remembered sandcastles when the tide was out and Orange Maid ice lollies.

She entered the café, still somewhat out of breath and began looking about her. Everything was just as she remembered it. Tea served in clear glass cups and large, thick, stone-white cups with frothy coffee that her mother would drink. Even the seats and tables were still red vinyl and Formica as they had been when they used to come down to the seaside.

‘How long ago?’ she wondered, thinking that for her, it seemed like only yesterday.

“What can I get you, miss,” said a young girl from behind the counter. She had a distinctly swarthy, Mediterranean look and sound about her and her long almost black hair hung down to her waist.

“Er …” Olivia replied, not knowing what she was supposed to order.

“Aren’t you—” the assistant began.

“No.”

The girl looked unconvinced. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Olivia said, suddenly brought back to the present and running from the group of boys, just minutes before. “I was chased by some boys.”

“You come with me,” the assistant said, walking down behind the counter and lifting the flap at the end. “This place is normally for staff, but you come and sit here. I’ll bring you a coffee and you can stay until you feel safe again.”

“Thank you.”

Olivia sat at the table round the corner and out of sight of the main thoroughfare. Moments later, the assistant brought a steaming cup of frothy coffee, smiled and placed it in front of her.

“You’ll feel better after this,” she told her.

“Thanks,” Olivia said, returning the girl’s smile.

As the waitress left, Olivia saw someone sitting at table opposite the one she was shown to. She looked familiar, but then, much she’d seen on her way down seemed that way, though she wasn’t quite able to place it. This girl was no different, but was staring right at her.

She smiled and the girl smiled back, which made Olivia blush slightly—as did the girl.

“Sorry,” Olivia said, nervously, for no other reason than she thought she ought to say something, but couldn’t think of anything else with that throbbing in her head.

The girl at the other table did exactly the same.

Olivia stood and moved towards the other girl and realised she’d been looking in a mirror, seeing her own reflection reflecting her own movements.

“Oh wow,” she muttered, looking closely at the reflection, as if seeing herself for the first time.

Sitting back down at her table, she realised she hadn’t even recognised herself in the mirror and that bothered her. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise herself, but she’d never worn clothes like the ones she was wearing and had no recollection of putting them on.

Staring into the mirror across the other side of the room, she wondered how her mother had ever allowed her to wear such clothes. The leggings she wore left little to the imagination and her hair…

How long had she been letting it grow?

She felt she looked good—better than good in fact, but it didn’t make any sense. Somehow, the memories she had of being on the beach with her mother and sister didn’t belong to her. Whilst she remembered much about the times when they were all together, didn’t include her, but then nothing seemed to be making any sense at all.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, feeling the long, straight hair brush like whispers across her face, a feeling she couldn’t remember from before. It was nice and she was sure that she should have remembered something like that.

She heard the traffic noise increase as the door to the café opened. The voices of a couple of women suddenly became apparent as the door closed and the sound of the traffic receded.

“You sure this is the place?” one said.

“Positive. This was her favourite place.”

Olivia sat back in her chair, keeping out of sight. Perhaps these women knew she’d be here like that group of spotty youths had known her earlier.

“How long are you planning on waiting here?” one asked.

“As long as it takes.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Don’t worry,” the second one said.

That one simple sentence rang bells in Olivia’s mind. There was recognition there; something about the tone of her voice seemed as familiar as the café did.

‘If only I could remember…’

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To be continued…