Lost Girls (35 page)

As the night
progressed it turned into music and dancing. Everyone joined in,
forming lines and groups that ebbed and flowed. One of the dances
reminded her of the Zorba music, the others she did not know and
they had unpronounceable names but she joined in with abandon as
did Mark, sometimes dancing briefly together, mostly with other
partners.

At last the
night subsided into quiet reflexion as the guests departed. Now she
was yawning and tired. Athena turned to Mark, “The lady Catherine
is tired. I have shown her where her room is and brought her things
up. Now you must bring her up to it, Mark.”

Mark had the
good grace to look sheep faced as her rose to escort her. She was
feeling light headed from all the wine. At times he put out his
hand to steady her as they climbed. She liked the solid feeling of
his arm against her shoulders as he did. She decided that there
were far worse things than having this man’s body next to hers in
bed, whatever followed. It was not her plan but it felt right.

At the top
landing, as he opened the door, she felt quite tipsy and her body
swayed. His arm went firmly around her shoulders and she leaned
into him saying, “That feels good, your arm around me like
that.

He brought her
over to the bed. She lay back, her head spinning. She felt him take
her shoes off. She thought the undressing would continue, not
minding. Instead she felt him pull back the covers, lift her under
then tuck her in, snug and warm.

She had a half
formed intent to invite him to come alongside her. But her mind was
drifting and the words would not form. She had a vague awareness of
him taking a pillow from the other side and a blanket from the
cupboard as she fell into a deep sleep.

She woke with a
dry mouth and needing to go to the toilet. She remembered it was
down on the next level and stumbled down the stairs. She found a
glass and drank water to clear her head.

She was not
used to having more than one or two drinks on any occasion, even
when entertaining guests. She had mastered the art of appearing to
drink but stopping after the first couple. It had been much better
in her previous life to keep a clear head.

But last night
she was captivated by the fun and her glass was endlessly full. She
kept drinking it down, sip by sip. Now she felt faint embarrassment
and hoped she had not been silly in her exuberance.

She walked back
upstairs feeling cold and almost sober, though she knew that was a
mirage. It would get worse before it got better. She was in for a
hangover of the sort she had not had for many years.

She felt like
being minded, the way her mother still did for her when she was at
home, tucked into bed with a warm bottle.

She tried to go
quietly but her balance was still not fully there. She tripped on
her bag on the floor as she walked back to the bed, stumbling and
reaching out for support.

Suddenly Mark
was alongside her, steadying her and guiding her to the bed. She
did not know where he had come from; he was so silent and moved so
easily, like a cat.

He sat her on
the edge of the bed and went to pull away. She held onto his hand
and pulled him back. “Come, lie next to me. I think I am still
drunk and will have a hangover in the morning. It would be nice to
have you next to me, minding me, like the way when I was a little
girl I used to cuddle in next to my mother and father.

She climbed
under the covers and moved across to the centre, indicating a space
for Mark to lie next to her. She realised she was still wearing her
clothes from the night before, as was he. He was lying on his back,
as if self conscious. She took his hand and pulled him towards her
so he was lying on his side facing her. She moved her shoulder in
against his chest saying. “I hope you don’t mind. I just want to be
held.”

As she spoke
she turned her back into his chest and felt his body push along her
length, hard and strong, yet enfolding. She took his hand and
pulled it over her, holding the flat of his palm against her belly
in the mid place. He pushed his hand gently against her belly and
lightly stroked it as she snuggled tight against him. Her eyes were
closing again. She felt so comfortable and sleepy and drifted away,
as if floating on a white cloud.

The sky was
light but it was still early when she woke again. Mark was sleeping
beside her, breathing softly and regularly. His hand was still
resting on her belly. It felt so good. She pushed it more firmly
against her and he stirred. She turned to face him, enfolded in his
arms.

His face looked
seriously intent as she moved her face almost up to it, kissing him
lightly on the nose. “I know I will feel sick later, but for now,
lying here like this, I feel unbelievably comfy. Thank you for
minding me in the night. My experience with men had not been so
good over the years. It is wonderful to find one I can trust.”

Mark’s arms
tightened around her. She felt his aroused maleness, it was a
normal part of waking for most men, and part of her wanted to
relieve it.

He said, “I am
glad you feel can trust me, I am first and foremost your friend.
Though when I feel you lying here, body touching mine, I am not so
sure I trust myself so much. But I will try and pretend there is
not a gorgeous woman lying here.

She kissed his
nose again. “Oh, that,” she said looking down at his waist. I don’t
mind about that, you are definitely a man. What I mean is that I
trust you because you have not tried to make me do anything I don’t
want to do, that is something very precious.

“I think I want
that part of you,” she said, looking directly into his eyes and
taking his hand and placing it on her breast, undoing the buttons
with her other hand and sliding it under her top where he could
feel her nipple. He stroked it and she could feel both her arousal
and his growing.

But then her
mind reasserted itself, saying, “Before we both decide if we really
want that to happen I need to tell you about me. It is something
you deserve to know and it is my moment of truth, not a pretty
story, but I want you to know who I am.”

She turned away
from him as she spoke deciding she needed the anonymity of not
seeing his face as she spoke. She felt his arms go back around her,
this time holding her breast from the outside, gently cupping it in
his hand, maintaining an intimate physical link.

She started her
story at the beginning, when she was a little girl, describing her
memory in the third person, almost as if it had happened to
somebody else, it seemed less painful that way.

She told how
she had an uncle who was in his early twenties, and who seemed
incredibly handsome when she was a little girl. He was always
around at her place, seeing her and her sister, particularly her
sister who was two years older. She would often sit in his lap as
would her sister. It had always seemed good harmless fun.

But then, when
she was about eight he had begun to touch her, first the lightest
caresses that she could almost mistake for nothing more than his
hand brushing past. But gradually they grew more and more intimate,
and to her, as a little girl, they felt nice. Sometimes she would
sit on his lap when no one else was around and he would slide his
hand down under her panties and touch her and stroke her in that
place, giving her body little shivers of pleasure. And she could
feel a hard place in his trousers that rubbed up against her.

Her body was
only that of a child. But he did not seem to mind, it seemed to
excite him and he would then excite her. Sometimes he would take
her for walks in the wood or mountains and then he would take all
her clothes off and fondle her, putting fingers up inside her and
showing her his red swollen thing. He never tried to do anything
more. He made her promise never to tell about these things saying
that other grown ups should not know about this stuff.

She thought he
was probably doing the same things to her sister. Then she was
Fiona and her sister’s name was Cathy, Catherine really though
everyone called her Cathy or sometimes Kate.

They would also
go off for walks with him at times, sometimes it was the both of
them and then nothing happened, but sometimes it was just one or
the other, and that is when it happened to her.

When Cathy, her
sister, turned eleven she could tell she was growing up, she
started to get little bits of hair around her thing which she saw
when they had a bath together, and there were bumps on her sister’s
chest in places where her own chest was flat.

For a while her
uncle was away overseas, in the army. But then when her sister had
turned twelve and she was ten, he came back and for a few weeks he
was coming and visiting them again, and was touching her some more.
She was starting to feel awkward about it, having heard stuff about
sex in school. But she did not know how to say to her uncle to stop
and part of her liked it too.

One day, when
she was on her way out to visit friends she saw her uncle taking
her sister for a walk along the edge of the lake, heading towards
the forest.

That afternoon
her uncle was not there. Her mother said he was leaving to go away
overseas tonight, this was his last visit for a few months. She
stayed talking to her Mum for a while and eating fresh cookies that
she had baked. There was no sign of her sister, she wondered if she
had gone out.

Her Mum said
Cathy told her she had a headache and had gone up to her room after
her Uncle had left. So she went up and tried to open the door but
it was closed. She could hear her sister in the bedroom crying and
she would not let her come in. She said she had a still had a
headache and wanted to be left alone.

The next day
her sister was nowhere to be found, they searched all the house and
surrounding fields but did not find her. They called the police and
the police organised a search, but nothing was found.

People thought
she must have run away, she sometimes got cross and moody, and a
few times she had gone off to the next town, telling her she was
sick of being at home and was going away.

But that was
only normal older sister stuff, she would always say “Fifi, I am
going off on my own for a day. Don’t tell anyone, I just need time
out but will be back in a day.”

And she had
always come home the way she promised. So the others thought that
this must be what she had done and she would turn up the next day
or the day after at most.

But she did not
believe it because her sister had not said goodbye to her this
time. She felt really worried, particularly after she had locked
herself in her room the day before, crying.

They found her
on the third day, or at least a fisherman did. She was floating
face down in the middle of the lake, way out from the edge. She was
only wearing a nightie with nothing underneath.

They would not
let her look, they said the fish had been nibbling at her for three
days, it had made a terrible mess, eating lots of bits of her face
and skin and things.

They did a post
mortem and said it was inconclusive, they thought she must have had
an accident and fallen in from the jetty early in the morning,
while still in her night clothes. So the police called it
accidental drowning, though that did not seem quite right to her,
it was unlike her sister to go down to the lake before she got
dressed, she had never known her to do this before.

That was when
she took her sisters name. The funeral was horrid, all those people
standing there and saying nice things about her sister and her Mum
and Dad standing there crying, so heartbroken. Her uncle was not
there, he was over in the Middle East.

On the day of
the funeral she decided she wanted to try and make her parents
happy again, to become her sister and make them forget about that
awful thing that happened.

So the next day
she announced that from now she would be called Cathy and she tried
to act like her sister. People had gone along with it and humoured
her as if this was just a strange request from a little girl that
they needed to accommodate.

It was six
months until she saw her uncle again. Now she was starting to grow
up herself, she had little bumps on her chest now and the place
where he used to touch her between her legs was changing too,
little hairs growing around the edges. One day her uncle was there
when she came home from school.

Her parents
were both out, but there was her uncle, sitting in an armchair, as
if waiting for her. She ran and hugged him and he told her to come
and sit on his lap. She did, but she now felt self-conscious that
he would see the way her body was changing. She was not sure she
wanted him to see or touch those bits anymore.

He asked where
her Mum and Dad were. She said, “They have gone to a meeting in the
town and then will stay there for dinner. They said they will not
be back until late. They told me to fix my own dinner.”

At that her
Uncle gave her a great big smile. “That is great. That means I have
you all to myself for hours. I can’t wait to see how you have
changed since I saw you last.”

He looked
critically at her chest. I can even see little bumps growing where
there were none before. Then he took her up to her bedroom, telling
he wanted her to take her dress off so he could have a closer
look.

She did,
feeling even more self conscious. He sat her back on his lap,
wearing only her panties and he fondled the little pimples on her
chest as he called them. It did feel nice and she could feel that
hard lump in his trousers again. Then he picked her up and carried
her over to the bed where he lay her down, pulling off her panties
and saying he wanted to look at that place.

She let him and
felt him put his fingers inside, much further than before. At first
it felt nice but then it hurt as he pushed in further. Then he took
his clothes and she saw him standing there with his huge red thing,
she had seen it before but she had never seen it with all his
clothes off.