Costa del Soul

By Narelle Bitunjac

Claire Taylor is twenty eight, honest, hardworking and a loyal friend. That is to say she was, until her life cracked down the centre and fell apart. Claire is adrift from her closest friend, barely earning enough money to put fuel in her car, living back with her parents and still struggling to get over her grandmother's death.

Claire knocks on the door of Chantal Naylor and is about to ask the wealthy English new mother of twins if she would like to save money on her electricity. However, Mrs Naylor speaks first and orders Claire to come inside. It seems Mrs Naylor has mistaken Claire for Anna, a woman due at the Naylor's Sydney mansion to interview for a temporary nanny role. Claire takes this twist of fate as a sign and after some deliberation, decides to ride it out.

Claire bonds easily with the babies in the weeks that follow but is unable to break the ice with Mrs Naylor or remember to answer to her new assumed name. The Naylor’s ask Claire to accompany them to Europe where the twins will be formally introduced to family and friends and Christened. Claire is delighted and agrees without hesitation.

What unfolds in those seven weeks in Europe leads Claire to replace ghosts from her past with some unusual friends, a Spanish lover named Eduardo and a thicker skin than she ever thought she'd need. She returns to Sydney determined to steer clear of other people’s drama, find work she loves and finally uncover her potential.

Soon after arriving home, Claire accepts a temporary assignment as office assistant for fifty-something Tony Novak, a renowned Sydney private investigator. Tony's life and business have reached a crossroads and before Claire’s contract is up, he decides she is a keeper. After playing a part in Eduardo's surprise visit to Sydney, Tony offers Claire a cadetship as a junior investigator upon her return from her and Eduardo's (now shortened) holiday to the USA. Claire's first mini assignment for Novak & Sons is a meet and greet with a possible new client in Los Angeles.

Claire is packed and set to depart Sydney for the second time in a year and head into a future that really does look promising.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Narelle Bitunjac
• Release date: Mar 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301868131

Book preview

Cost del Soul

by Narelle Bitunjac

Copyright 2013 Narelle Bitunjac

Cover Design: Razzle Dazzle

Cover Photo Copyright 2013 Dreamstime.com

Cover Copyright 2013 Narelle Bitunjac

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-130-186-813-1

All rights reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Narelle Bitunjac.

Costa del Soul is dedicated to my mum, who was always supportive, genuinely interested and proud. She even laughed (in all the right places) at my first draft.

Love you mum.

Thank you to my editors Cheryl Williams and Jennifer Tanner.

PROLOGUE

Ever since gran passed away nearly six months ago, I've had dreams I am walking around with my eyes closed. I could be at work, shopping, even driving my car with my eyes completely shut. No-one in my dream notices my eyes or my panic as I try unsuccessfully to lift my lids.

I've started dreaming about Travis York again too. Travis is my ex-housemate and someone I had a terrible crush on. Travis was smart, sexy and emotionally unavailable. But I believed – no, I knew - we were going to be together. I don't mean that in a bunny-boiler kind of way, it's just I felt a very deep instant connection with him. There was a sense of recognition, like we were two old souls who had finally found each other.

Soon after I professed my lust, he was on the phone laughing and telling someone to pay up because he'd won.

I moved out, certain Travis York was emotionally bankrupt and definitely not the one.

Travis had been my third consecutive strike in the unrequited lust department. But that was almost three years ago and I had barely looked at a guy since. Why was I dredging up it again now?

In my waking life I was living back at mum and dad’s because I’d had a fight with my good friend and flatmate Stephanie Robins. She moved out as a result and I couldn't afford to pay the rent on my own. I was barely able to pay my half, given I'd resigned from my job as an executive assistant to the head of a large chartered accountant firm. That's what the fight with Stephanie had been about. She told me I was irresponsible for leaving my job without something else to go to but screw that. I asked for time off to go to Ireland with my family to take gran's ashes home and unbelievably my boss, Justin Tabin, said no. All I asked for was a few weeks off, it's not like I was going to Ibiza to party with friends. And yes, we were busy but he could've hired a temp. Shit, you'd think he'd cut me some slack after four years putting up with his micro-managing, afternoon body odour and annoying audible breathing.

Mum and dad's house was super quiet with gran gone, my little brother Jordy backpacking around the globe and my parents 'getting on with our lives dear'.

I was home alone a lot during the day, something I'd only ever experienced for a sick-day here or there. Seriously, what do people do all day?

It was the boredom, isolation and daytime television that eventually got me off the couch, out of my pyjamas and back in the workforce.

Chapter 1

You're late, the tiny brunette woman said before the door was all the way open.

Hi, I um, I said to the back of her head as she walked away.

She scooped up a crying baby and turned to see I hadn't moved.

Hurry up; I need you to take the baby, her posh English accent made her sound like someone who needed to be obeyed.

Her eyes bulged as she waited for me to respond.

Right, I said and closed the door behind me.

***

Philly, I sang Phillipa Jones's nickname into the phone as soon as she answered. I have good news, I paused for effect, my first appointment today said I came highly recommended by Cici who had heard all about me from Janet Symonds.

Who the hell are Cici and Janet Symonds? she asked.

No idea. The bad news is I didn't get anyone to sign up today so I earned zero commission.

Philly took a breath and was probably about to say something but I jumped in first.

But the news of the day is the woman, known only as 'the tiny brunette woman' at this stage, needs me to look after her twin baby girls for the next six weeks. Yay.

What?

I couldn't blame her for needing another run-through, I was talking fast and I could tell she wasn't really listening.

So, you know I've been working for Raw Energy going door-to-door trying to get people to switch providers?

Yes. I told you I support your decision to reinvent yourself away from an office, Philly mimicked my slow deliberate speech.

Right, so door-to-door is good exercise but people are rude and it's hard to get a sale. I've barely made any money in three weeks, I continued.

Yeah I know all that, shit Claire, get to the bit about the woman and the babies for Christ’s sake.

Sorry. So I knock on this door, huge door, huge house. Teeny-tiny pretty brunette answers, I'm about to show her my I.D. and ask if I can talk to her about saving money on her electricity, only she talks first. She says I'm late, tells me to come in the hands me a baby.

Why are you trying to get rich people to save a few cents on electricity anyway?

What can I tell you, Mosman's my patch?

Clearly the brunette thought you were someone else. Why didn't you say something? Philly made no attempt to hide her judgement and suspicion.

One, I was caught off guard and my instinct in such situations is not make any sudden moves. Two, the baby stopped crying as soon as I held her, she's super sweet. And C) the girl who was supposed to come was a no-show, still hadn’t fronted when I left half an hour later.

Right and you thought you'd impersonate her?

Sort of. The no-show's name is Anna, my middle name is Anne, it was practically fate. Besides it's only for a few weeks and you should see the house and the bab--.

You've lost your mind.

Holding that baby today was the first time I've felt good in months, I said, remembering the perfection of her skin, her silky black hair and her sweet baby smell.

"Christ Claire, spare the baby details before I break out in a rash. Do you even know how to look after babies?"

I could almost hear Philly rolling her eyes and to be honest, I hadn't thought through all of the details.

Of course I do, mum always said I was a big help when Jordy was born, besides, how hard could it be?

Don't ask me but I'm sure it's harder than you think and you were five when Jordy was born. I'm going to let you go because you've got some shit to get into a pile my friend.

We both laughed.

***

Chantal, the baby’s mother, spent half her day checking up on me and the other half rattling around that house trying to find me so she could check up on me. She called out to me time and again but I rarely answered. In my defence, it was a really big house and the name Anna just didn't register. I quickly realized that being ignored made Chantal extra shitty. For someone so little she was a force to be reckoned with when she got angry. One time she 'wondered out loud' if my unresponsiveness was due to a hearing problem. 'What on earth is wrong with you Anna? Why don't you ever answer me? Honestly. Are you deaf? Really, do you actually have a hearing impairment? Well do you?' She was so annoyed she walked off before I could respond, which was lucky because I had no idea what I would have said.

She also had a habit of looking at me blankly and pausing for too long before answering any of my questions. It was unnerving and made me feel like I was always asking stupid questions. The thing is, she was so particular about how everything had to be done and she assumed a lot of the time I would know things without her telling me. As if her idiosyncrasies were universal law known to all but me. For instance, the girls were bottle fed from birth but she refused to let me make up the bottles. She insisted the kettle in the twin's kitchenette, the one used exclusively for the bottles, be filled with fresh water every time due to the oxygen levels in re-boiled water being lower than that of water boiled only once. I reassured her I could remember to empty the kettle but she didn't seem convinced. My inability to answer to my own name may have caused her to doubt my capacity to complete more complex tasks such as empty the kettle. Who knows?

The dad, Simon, was a very tall Irish guy who seemed relaxed and friendly but I barely saw him the first three weeks. I guess that's why I was surprised when he called me at home that third weekend.

Chantal had slipped down the stairs and fractured her ankle he’d said.

I said I was sorry to hear that and asked if she was alright.

He said she was having trouble getting around, particularly up and down the stairs. She was upset and very worried about being able to look after the babies properly.

I heard myself ask if there was anything I could do.

* * *

Are you going to do it? Philly asked, coffee in hand and perched at our black stone kitchen bench.

I don't know, I feel like I have to because what else are they going to do? I opened the dishwasher and copped a face full of steam.

How much are they going to pay you?

I don't know, we haven't talked about that. I said I'd call them back tonight after I'd had a chance to think.

Philly took a sip of her coffee and scrunched up her nose. Did you put sugar in this?

Yep, one. I handed her a spoon and the sugar bowl. "It's not just about money Phil, that woman is really hard work. She's not nice at all but I know she can be because she speaks so sweetly to the babies. Would it kill her to make small talk occasionally? I can't imagine what it would be like being in the same house with her twenty four seven."

Philly opened her mouth to respond but I wasn't finished.

Then there are the babies. I know you don't get it but they're so gorgeous. I love being around them, they literally do something new every few days. The money would be good too, they already pay me well but live-in and on-call would cost them big time, I smiled.

Do they still call you Anna?

Yeah, but I never bloody answer, I said shaking the last drops of water off the bottom of the coffee cups one at a time.

I wonder why, Philly snorted out a laugh.

Shut up, I laughed too.

I'm surprised you've been able to pull it off for three weeks, Philly said.

I know but this feels like my job, like it was meant for me. I closed the dishwasher and came to sit next to her. Enough about me, me, me. What's going on with you?

Nothing. I basically live at work and it's killing my life, Philly's tone was flat.

Let's do something then, want to go out tonight? I asked, hoping she'd say no.

I'd rather order home delivery and get a DVD. I'm boring I know but I couldn't be bothered getting dressed up.

Same, the babies have worn me out. We are a pair of grann--, I stopped when I realized what I was about to say.

In a rare moment of tenderness, Philly put her hand on my wrist. Don't worry Claire-bear, your gran's still around, we just can't see her that's all.

Philly had loved gran too.

Chapter 2

Living with the Naylors was easier in some ways than I expected but harder in others. Chantal stayed upstairs most of the time for obvious reasons. She had Simon bring the girls to their bedroom each morning then spent a good portion of her day barking orders through a cordless baby monitor I was to have on me at all times. I spent a lot of my day walking up and down the stairs responding to said orders.

I had to admit, I was far more responsive to my 'name' when it emanated from a speaker attached to my person. This only served to convince Chantal she had been right about me having a hearing impairment.

I shouldn’t complain. I got to spend quality time with the girls each day between 4:15pm and 5:30pm which was when they got grizzly. My routine was to secure them in the double stroller (or double buggy as Chantal called it) and sing to them as we did endless laps around the expanse of the ground floor. They seemed to love it despite my limited repertoire and horrible singing.

I usually went down to my room in the basement after I bathed and put the girls to bed, which was by 6:30pm. Despite being on the lower ground floor, my room was warm and inviting with its yellow colour palette and its round porthole window overlooking the neighbour's fence. It was very quiet what with the marble floor above and the absence of the baby monitor.

Simon said the room had been the living quarters of the baby nurse they had flown out from the UK to be on call 24/6 (she allegedly had Sundays off) for the first three months of the twins’ lives. She had returned to the UK a few days before I started.

One thing that did surprise me was Chantal hardly asked me to cook; Simon bought home take-away most nights instead. You know, I never thought I'd get sick of take-away but by the end of the third week, I was craving a home cooked meal. Shame mum and dad were never free to cook me one. Their social life put my non-existent one to shame.

I had a bad case of cabin fever by the time Chantal's ankle was on the improve and she was moving around easier. So, after many practice runs in my head, I asked Chantal for the following Sunday off. I said I would need to leave the house in the early morning and wouldn’t return until late in the evening. She said yes and seemed uncharacteristically relaxed, which made me wish I had asked sooner.

* * *

It was barely 8am the Monday after my day off and I could hear Chantal's voice coming through the baby monitor, which was charging on the kitchen bench.

Anna are you there?

No I'm not.

Anna, Chantal stretched the word out.

I leaned on the bench as I spoke into the microphone.

Yes Chantal.

She's going to give me hell today to make up for yesterday.

"Oh good, you are there.