Miranda Jones, Book 2. Chameleon

By B C Austen

The Great Husband Search is over.
The death of her beloved father brought more than just grief. The bizarre contents of his will summoned up a cocktail of emotional confusion for Miranda.
What was this man thinking by including a stipulation that required her to marry before she turned forty? This wasn’t the dark ages. It was so unlike him to threaten her with anything, let alone it being coupled with the potential loss of half her inheritance if she failed to comply.
The whole thing became an exercise that tested her mental strength, but in the end, she had to concede that through the whole ordeal she’d gained considerable maturity. She met new identities and was forced to endure the trauma of losing loved ones.
Delving into her deepest inhibitions led her from suburban Sydney to a derelict orphanage in the swampy lowlands of Glasgow, where she found her birth mother and twin brother, Oliver. United, they returned to Sydney to start again.
On the day of their fortieth birthday, Miranda arranged a celebration at her favourite hangout, the Warthog nightclub. She felt the time was right to let her hair down and shake off the shackle of oppression she had imposed on herself.
Miranda had changed from the shy introverted woman who shunned society to become someone even she barely understood. The internet dating scene certainly opened her eyes to another side of life and through it, she discovered the scent of man. Her resurrection was underway.
Miranda had her sights set on Peter Fawcett, her solicitor. She admired him from afar but was too bashful to approach him romantically. To him, she was a mere client. A devastating revelation drove her to despair, but another had been waiting to make his move. Would he be able to make her forget Peter?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B C Austen
• Release date: Apr 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311724434

B C Austen

Barbara is a retired medical receptionist and a learner blogger. She is a native of Western Australian country towns, but has now joined the city rat race. Among her hobbies she has a small but fascinating collection of weird and wonderful teapots.She has been learning creative writing for a few years now and her first novel has just hit the ebook market.Her family is her life, but movies and coffee with friends are all important.

Book preview

Prologue

PROLOGUE

The Great Husband Search is over at last.

The death of her beloved father brought more than just grief. The bizarre contents of his Will summoned up a cocktail of emotional confusion for Miranda.

What was this man thinking by including a stipulation that required her marry before she turned forty. This isn’t the dark ages. It was so unlike him to threaten her with anything, let alone it being coupled with the potential loss of half her inheritance if she failed to comply.

The whole thing became an exercise that tested her mental strength, but in the end, she had to concede that through the whole ordeal she’d gained considerable maturity. She met new identities and was forced to endure the trauma of losing loved ones.

Delving into her deepest inhibitions led her from suburban Sydney to a derelict orphanage in the swampy lowlands of Glasgow, where she found her birth mother and twin brother, Oliver.

But first there was Devon. She met him on a blind date at the Warthog nightclub. It was a gay and lesbian nightclub, so why there? Did she seriously think that was the place to find a husband?

Devon soon learnt that there is no likelihood of romance with Miranda. The spark wasn’t there. Instead, they formed a rare friendship that bonded them despite their diverse backgrounds. If it wasn’t for the internet dating site the two would never have crossed paths. The advent of Miranda’s new family threatened the friendship. Devon felt the sting of rejection when she needed time away to get to know them. He struggled to join her in the excitement of finding her own flesh and blood. In the end he had to move on.

In the course of the search for the orphanage she literally stumbled across her birth mother, Lucy. With this incredible discovery came a journal that would ultimately reveal the identity of her natural father.

The joy of finding her new family was short-lived. Her mother, Lucy, died soon after and Miranda returned to Australia with Oliver, to pick up the pieces of their mundane lives.

It was through that brief emotional journey she had an epiphany, and slowly but surely she would learn the shocking truth, that all was not what it seemed.

Peter Fawcett took over his father’s legal practice following his sudden death. Peter’s father was a close friend of Miranda’s father. Both men took their secrets to the grave including the reasons they had for adding the marriage clause in the Will.

Miranda instantly liked Peter and developed an infatuation for him. Was it a kind of hero worship or was it love? She yearned for it to be more than simply a client/lawyer relationship and she set out to win him over.

Miranda and Oliver settled down in Sydney. It was a wonderful time for them, getting to know each others character and personality and just how much they had in common.

Miranda had arranged a celebration for their fortieth birthday at her favourite hangout, the Warthog nightclub. She felt the time was right to let her hair down and shake off the shackle of oppression she had imposed on herself.

Miranda had changed. She’d changed from the shy introverted woman who shunned society to become someone even she barely understood. The internet dating scene certainly opened her eyes to another side of life and through it she discovered the scent of man. Her resurrection was underway.

Chapter One

It was now almost six months since she’d returned from Scotland with Oliver, and for both of them it was a time of great change. The upheaval for Oliver was tremendous but somehow the whole transition went through quite seamless. Miranda suspected that without the responsibility of caring for Lucy any more, he was ready to reinvigorate himself and enjoy his new surroundings. They barely spent a day at home for the first few weeks. He was full of excitement and wanted to do everything at once.

He wanted to ride the busses and trains and especially the ferries. He was like a big kid wanting to run loose in a fairground. To Oliver there was beauty in the most outrageous places, mostly in things that Miranda had taken for granted.

His first impression of Sydney was a complete shock to him, especially the sunshine and the huge expanse of water. It was in stark contrast to the dark and dank of the old orphanage, hidden away in the swampy lowlands.

Miranda reduced her working hours when she found it was unfair to expect Oliver to settle in on his own.

Strangely though, despite his enthusiasm to get out and about, he always seemed to be nervous and restless. Miranda suspected he didn’t like crowds. She took him to the tourist information outlets and left him to forage through the brochures for places he would most like to go and see. He seemed to be a nature lover, preferring places like the zoo, the river, the ocean, anything that involved interaction with animals or plants. Places with the least number of people the better he liked it. Miranda found she also liked the relaxing feeling of letting nature entertain her, whether it was a large animal or the tiniest insect. He was easy to please.

Once the novelty wore off some weeks later, it was back to the simple things of getting on with household routines.

Since the deaths of her parents Miranda had been constantly on the go, and with less working hours, it was handy to have those extra periods in the day. It made her feel more at ease, and the best part of all was, she no longer had to push herself in the Great Husband Search. That was now dead and buried and with it went her sordid internet indulgences.

She took steps to enrol at university to study a business degree - a three year course if she stuck with it. Her future plans involved starting up a realestate agency and be her own boss and maybe get Oliver involved as well, but it was too early to broach the subject with him as yet.

She wanted to give Oliver time to get settled and discover what he wanted to do with himself, rather than have him feel he’d been railroaded into doing what she wanted.

He seemed content to hang around the house as though on a permanent holiday. Miranda wondered if she ought to sound him out about getting a job, or to try being productive in some way, for his own sake.

14th July 2003

Miranda opened one eye and stared blankly at the ceiling. She stretched her body and rubbed her eyes, then tried again to focus.

As her brain slowly woke she remembered that today was her birthday, the day she had once dreaded. After tonight’s celebration she vowed her life had to change.

She threw the covers back and sat up on the side of the bed. The fuzzy achy feeling in the back of her head wasn’t a good sign. Her feet sought the comfort of the small oval rug. The glass of water on the bedside table had just enough in it to take the edge off her dry mouth.

This pivotal day had finally dawned and with it came the mental note that she had beaten the Will. Forty years had zipped by, just like that. Miranda started to wonder what she had to show for it and at first not a lot of personal or emotional satisfaction came to mind, but her more recent accomplishments soon pushed all those negative thoughts away.

That stupid Will with it’s stupid condition was now in the past. While it had disrupted her life, it brought about a significant change.

A fortieth birthday for most people brings about reflection, and Miranda was no exception. She felt flat and was unsure of the reason for it. Maybe there were some lingering feelings of regret.

Miranda lay back down again and pulled the sheet up.

She yawned and stretched, then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but soon realised she was now fully awake. She had to get up. Through the narrow slats of the vertical blinds she saw that the sun was well and truly up. She leaned over and pulled the blinds up higher, then she opened the window to let some fresh air in.

The pink flowering gum tree that grew on the footpath outside was moving gently in the morning breeze. A pair of tiny birds were having a dispute over a tit bit of food that could barely be seen. They swooped and dived and chirped, until one of them won out and flew off. It’s opponent sat despondently on a branch for another minute before it also left.

‘Oliver? Are you up yet?’

No reply.

‘Oliver?’ she yelled louder.

‘What?’ She heard a muffled reply coming from his room.

‘Nothing. I thought you might be up already.’

She heard a loud groan and some coughing, but he didn’t get up.

Miranda hurried down the stairs and got a shock when she saw the state of the kitchen. She’d forgotten they’d partied the previous night while watching a few movies and guessed this was the reason for her headache. The television had been left on. A newscast in a foreign language was playing.

The last she remembered was dozing on the lounge.

Empty bottles and glasses littered the sink. Soggy chips and the remains of some dip had also just been dumped there in a hurry. Neither she nor Oliver had made any effort to clear the rubbish.

‘Ugh, this is awful,’ she said. A few tiny ants had already arrived on the scene. Miranda grabbed the tea towel and squashed as many as she could see.

Miranda put the kettle on and then opened the front door. She turned the television off and pressed the nob on the radio for some pleasant music and background noise, then decided to open one or two more windows to let some extra fresh air in.

She drank a glass of water as she surveyed the kitchen and the sitting room.

‘Where to start.’ Miranda found a plastic bag in the pantry and gathered up as much mess as she could. Ten minutes later it already looked better.

‘I’m glad that’s done. I’ll make us a coffee in a short while and get Oliver up.’

‘Are you talking to yourself?’

‘Oh, shit. You startled me,’ said Miranda. ‘So you decided to get up after all?’

‘Yes. Happy birthday, Sis. Got much to do today?’ Are you looking forward to tonight?’

‘I am, and I’ll be out for most of the morning getting done up.’

‘Is this my coffee you’re making?’

‘Yes, and a happy birthday to you too.’

After eating his breakfast rather hurriedly, Oliver announced he was going out for a while, but didn’t offer an explanation when Miranda raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Her own morning was going to by a busy one. She had a two hour hair appointment in the morning and after than an hour in Dolly’s glamorous nail salon.

‘I’m off,’ he called to her as he headed to the front door.

Miranda ran some hot water into the sink while she ate her toast. She put the dirty dishes in to soak and then took her coffee up to her room. She set it down on the dresser and walked over to the bookshelf. The urn containing Lucy’s ashes sat there and Miranda felt it was time to hand them over to Oliver. He could be the keeper until they decided on a permanent place to store them. She wiped the lid with her sleeve, removing some dust particles. It amazed her how heavy it was.

His room was as usual, organised and pristine, quite the opposite of Miranda’s which seemed to always be in a cluttered and dishevelled state. She placed the ashes on his dressing table.

Miranda returned to the kitchen and got the dishes done in record time. It was time for a shower and to head off to the hairdresser for her appointment.

The Infinity Hair Salon had always held an appeal. It was situated in the Corona Shopping Complex about twenty minutes away, and convenient for doing any shopping on her way home from work. She’d recently been bombarded with quite a steady flow of their brochures in her letter box that she decided it must be an omen. Some of her colleague’s from work, mainly Fran, had recommended it when she’d asked for an opinion.

A week before her big day she’d found the courage to call in and talk to one of the stylists. It didn’t go well. Driving to the appointment Miranda cringed as she recalled the embarrassing conversation.

The young lass in question was standing at the reception desk smiling cheerily.

‘Morning, ma’am. What can we do for you today?’ she asked.

‘I’d like to book an appointment for next week.’

‘Certainly. What is it for?’

‘A new style, I think. I was wondering if you could suggest something that could be done with my hair. I’d like to zhuzh it up with a modern stylish look, but I haven’t a clue what I want.’

Miranda watched the young woman take a few moments to look over her head and face. As she waited for a response she detected a mild grimace on the girl’s expression.

The conversation then took a downward spiral.

The girl shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. ‘I don’t really know, Ma’am. We don’t usually see many people with your type of hair. Because it’s so thick and wavy it can be quite hard to work with. Have you been here before?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘What exactly do you want us to do? We can get rid of the grey if that’s what you are after.’

‘What grey?’

The remark left Miranda feeling offended, but after taking a moment she decided to ignore it and carry on.

‘Well, I was hoping you could come up with some fresh ideas. That’s what you do here isn’t it. Styling, colouring, straightening, that sort of thing, and…’ Miranda voice trailed away her fingers tightened on the rolled up flyer she’d bought with her.

‘I know that,’ the girl snapped back before Miranda had a chance to finish her query, ‘but most people who come here tell us exactly what they want and that’s what we do.’

It was going badly, but Miranda persisted, keeping her voice in check. The badge the girl wore indicated she was speaking to Simone. Underneath her name was her status - Apprentice.

‘Look, Simone. Maybe I’ll go and try somewhere else.’

As they sized each other up, it was too late to suppress the emerging hostility that was building up.

‘Oh, are you sure,’ said Simone, her faint smile revealing a small degree of satisfaction that she was on the verge of getting rid of this demanding woman.

Miranda suspected where this was headed and decided to prolong the girls anguish.

‘Besides, I don’t think I want an apprentice doing anything to my hair. Maybe if I could speak to someone with some experience, as I can see you’re quite busy.’ They both glanced at the blank page and then looked at each other with slightly pursed lips.

From the corner of her eye Miranda saw that the four other stylists were now taking in the uncomfortable scene and were deciding whether to intervene. The male hairdresser abruptly turned his hairdryer off and spoke briefly to his client, who looked around in her mirror to see what had taken his attention.

As he approached the reception desk, he spoke to Simone. ‘Sorry to butt in. Can you go over and make my customer a coffee. I think I can be of some help here.’ He put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, gently whirled her round and steered her towards his client. Then he turned his attention back to Miranda.

‘I must apologise for that misunderstanding. She’s having a bad day. Did I hear you asking about a re-style?’

Miranda was losing patience.

‘I haven’t been here before, and I was asking her if… look, never mind, I should go.’ Miranda pulled the strap of her bag firmly over her shoulder and made to leave. She was embarrassed and now wanted to get out of there as quick as possible. Too much had been said.

‘Please, hang on a minute, it’s ok. I assure you, I can do something you’ll be happy with.’

She paused for a moment and had a quick rethink of the situation. His face showed he was genuinely concerned.

‘Your hair is quite unusual as Simone said, and in my opinion, it’s stunning. I’m quite keen to work something out with you. At least give me a chance to come up with some suggestions. My name’s Joel, by the way. I’m the owner.’

‘Hi Joel. I’m Miranda Jones.’

‘Can I ask how much of a change you were thinking of?’

‘That’s the problem. I don’t know. I only came in to have a quiet word with someone about it.’

‘I’m sorry things got off on the wrong foot, but I can certainly help with that. Why don’t you take a seat while I finish Mrs Albert and then we can talk. Shall I get Simone to bring you a coffee?’

‘No, it’s ok. I’ll just wait till you’re ready.’ Miranda still felt uptight, but she softened her attitude and was flattered that he liked her hair. She really only wanted a style where she could keep it under control. She felt more at ease after speaking with Joel, and to pass the time she picked up the nearest style book to read.

Joel’s client, Mrs Albert and a second woman, evidently both regulars, were soon finished. They left the salon chattering and laughing.

‘Thanks Joel, we’re off to the pub now. Don’t you wish you could come too?’

‘Have a great time, ladies,’ he said with a smile.

‘Miranda, do you want to come over here and sit down?’ He was already standing beside one of the chairs waiting for her.

As she approached she noticed him give her the once over. Miranda presumed it was to determine her overall appearance for a style he felt would suit. Once she was seated he brushed her hair back and looked over her hairline and facial features. He felt the texture and softness of her hair without saying too much.

It seemed to take forever, and he wasn’t rushing. When she looked at him in the mirror, his eyes seemed to be looking into hers. As if that wasn’t enough, he randomly ran his fingers over her scalp a couple of times, and gently pulled at the hair strands, seeing how much they would give.

Wow, this is nice. So relaxing. I certainly didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Is that normal?

‘Your natural colour is divine, like a deep auburn shade. One you don’t see very often. I don’t really want to do anything too drastic with it.’ She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself but he seemed to be working out a few ideas before he offered his suggestions

‘Pardon?’

‘I don’t want you to feel deflated by what I’m going to suggest. It’s thick and full of body, but it’s grown quite long, hasn’t it. I think a more modern stylish cut, maybe a blunt cut and a few hi-lights should be enough for starters? What do you think? I can show you a photo of what I have in mind. Yes?’

‘Ok. I’m glad you said that. I’m not really that brave about getting something too radical, even though I had said I wanted a complete change. Whatever was I thinking? When you mentioned hi-lights, what did you mean? Bright colours?’

‘No no,’ he said, vigorously shaking his head. ‘Hi-lights will just emphasise your own colours better and maybe we can put a few streaks of lighter tints here and there.’ His hands went back to her hair and he bobbed it up a couple of times from the back and let it loose again.

‘When do you want it done?’

‘I was thinking next Friday, in the morning if I can. Will it take long?’

‘A couple of hours should be enough, I think. Yes? Or no?’

‘Yes, that’s perfectly fine.’ She got out of the chair, and followed him to the reception counter. ‘I’ll see you on Friday then.’

‘Yes, Friday, the fourteenth of July at nine-thirty. I promise you won’t be disappointed.’ He put her name in his diary, and handed her an appointment card.

Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself off and pulled her dressing gown on. She reached for another towel and proceeded to dab at her hair to get more of the moisture out of it. With a large toothed comb she removed the knots and then ran her fingers lightly through it, trying to imagine what it would look like after the hair appointment.

Reaching for the moisturiser in it’s fancy new tub, she unscrewed the top and inhaled the scent it emitted. It was a new brand. Another treat to make her feel special on her birthday. It had been delivered to her door two days ago; a byproduct of her latest fetish, online shopping. Miranda’s new obsession was merely replacing the vacancy she’d created after weaning herself off the dating sites.

After spreading a layer of the expensive cream over her face and applying an assortment of moisturising and deodorising applications over the rest of her body, she re-wrapped the dressing gown and made her way down the stairs. Halfway down she stopped when she saw Oliver furtively letting himself in through the front door.

Curiously she remained on the spot and watched him place a large, grey coloured, squarish, plastic container on the floor and then with his foot he quietly pushed the door shut behind himself. He took a few deep breaths, then picked his mystery box up by the side handles and on tip toes, carried it into the sitting room, the veins popping up on his short stubby arms. He hadn’t seen Miranda yet. She was still standing on the first landing, watching him.

‘Are you home, Miranda?’ he called, as he disappeared from her view, still struggling with the awkward object. ‘Yoo hoo…. We have