Déjà Vu

By Robert LJ Borg

An unmistakable unique woman’s laugh triggers a deep memory, and Victor desperately needs to discover who this stranger truly is.

Victor Knight is an Australian veteran seeing out his retirement in the south of France. Despite trying to forget, the love of his life, Carla Bianchi, who dumped him for someone else some 40 years earlier in Melbourne, he had never forgotten their love affair, be it short, and her special qualities, particularly her unique laugh.

When one day, he hears her special laugh again, at a café on the other side of the world and looks upon the woman who had emanated the sound, he is floored by recognising Carla.... Yet a ‘double-take’ makes him realise it is not her, but it is enough to draw him into finding out who she is.

Isabelle and her mother, Victoria, are on vacation from Sydney. The deeper their conversation with Victor goes, the more they need to learn about each other, as it seems as though some paranormal forces may have been responsible for bringing them together. This was no chance meeting: it was meant to be..., but why?

READER ADVISORY: Déjà Vu asks that all-important question of reincarnation. How would you react to learning that your daughter is, in truth, your long-dead mother reborn?

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contemporary Paranormal with Romantic Elements. 49,500 words. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminosity Publishing LLP
• Release date: Sep 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005386221

Robert LJ Borg

Robert L J Borg was educated in London, England and has always held a passion for History and English Literature.Robert has been writing non-fiction, children’s fiction, poetry and adult fiction since the 1990s having been inspired by his mother, Viviane Elisabeth Borg, who is also a published author.Although he immigrated to Sydney, Australia in 1988 and became an Australian citizen in 1991, Robert has since relocated to Europe. He currently resides in Golfe Juan in Southern France.

Book preview

DÉJÀ VU

ROBERT L J BORG

An unmistakable unique woman’s laugh triggers a deep memory, and Victor desperately needs to discover who this stranger truly is.

Victor Knight is an Australian veteran seeing out his retirement in the south of France. Despite trying to forget, the love of his life, Carla Bianchi, who dumped him for someone else some 40 years earlier in Melbourne, he had never forgotten their love affair, be it short, and her special qualities, particularly her unique laugh.

When one day, he hears her special laugh again, at a café on the other side of the world and looks upon the woman who had emanated the sound, he is floored by recognising Carla…. Yet a ‘double-take’ makes him realise it is not her, but it is enough to draw him into finding out who she is.

Isabelle and her mother, Victoria, are on vacation from Sydney. The deeper their conversation with Victor goes, the more they need to learn about each other, as it seems as though some paranormal forces may have been responsible for bringing them together. This was no chance meeting: it was meant to be…, but why?

READER ADVISORY: Déjà Vu asks that all-important question of reincarnation. How would you react to learning that your daughter is, in truth, your long-dead mother reborn?

PUBLISHER NOTE: Contemporary Paranormal with Romantic Elements. 49,500 words. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

DÉJÀ VU

ROBERT L J BORG

booklogo

LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

DÉJÀ VU

Copyright © SEPTEMBER 2022 ROBERT L J BORG

Cover Art byPoppy Designs & Elena Chukovskaya

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For Carmen, whose unique and unforgettable laugh was the inspiration for this story.

PROLOGUE

Saturday 16th May 1970

Portsea, Victoria, Australia

Victor Knight knew there was nothing better than seeing the beach empty of people with only the sea birds swooping down and skimming the shore for unsuspecting titbits. Despite an early autumn chill in the air, the sun was still capable of giving some heat, particularly when seated in a cosy nook of a sand dune. The waves were gently lapping the shore, their crystalline waters seeping into the sand as they receded back out to sea.

They had driven down the Mornington Peninsula to Portsea from the city of Melbourne to get away from the bustling noise and, more importantly, prying eyes, to spend a day together in relative peace.

He’d promised her lunch by the foreshore, though he was certain that fish and chips wrapped in paper wasn’t quite what she had in mind. However, that’s all he could really afford, and though she might have been disappointed, he had been grateful that she didn’t show it. Instead, being tucked away out of sight, they spoke freely, and blissfully, kissed and cuddled to their hearts content.

They had met via a mutual friend – Graham. Victor had tagged along with him when he had visited some family acquaintances. As they sat in the lounge room talking about one thing or another, Victor couldn’t stop himself from being drawn to the younger of the two sisters, Carla.

She wasn’t what one would call beautiful, but she had a je-ne-sais-quoi quality about her that acted like a magnet; what made her even more special was her laugh. Victor had never heard such a sound ever before. It seemed to rise from deep within her, as if from the inner reaches of her heart itself, and because of it, a unique loving resonance was emitted in the form of a throaty chuckle.

Unable to resist, being so closely seated next to her, Victor gently stroked the back of her knee with his forefinger. He felt her tense, and for a moment he held his breath waiting for an indignant objection from her, but it didn’t come. To his delight, she reached down to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, whilst turning her face towards his. Her eyes were sparkling, and a thin smile spread over her delicious lips. He realised he was still holding his breath, and now he released it with a sense of relief.

They had been going out for over three months since that first meeting, but this was the first time they had ventured so far out of the city. At least here, amidst the sand dunes and the shelter of numerous trees, they could be themselves; to make love without fear of being caught, as the few times they had done so before in places too inappropriate to call romantic. Now was different, for one thing, this was the first time they both lay naked together, wrapped in each other’s arms to keep warm; the heat of their bodies enveloping them as though they were within a cocoon. Their kisses, though passionate and hard at first, now settled down to gentle pecks, as did their breathing.

I want to be with you forever, he whispered, as they rolled over on their backs and stared blankly at the cloudless sky.

Above them, seagulls rode the thermals in a never-ending display that appeared professionally choreographed.

I truly love you, so much, he continued, and was rewarded by her rolling on top of him; she then sat up and straddled him. He let out a sigh of contentment as Carla manipulated his manhood inside of her, arching her back to gain full penetration.

He closed his eyes in adoration of the gentle rotations of her lower regions; the touch of her skin, and the weight of her body was the most arousing sensation he’d ever experienced. It was a feeling he never would want to be apart from; and although, he knew they were both still too young to be married, somewhere from deep within him, he was certain he would love no other woman than the one here with him this very moment.

It would be Carla who would share the rest of his life, and no other. . ..

CHAPTER 1

46 years later. . .,

Sunday 17th July 2016

Cannes, France

She was tall and slender. Victor scrutinised her carefully as she stepped into the room. Her long chestnut-coloured hair was swept up and neatly knotted at the top of her head into a bun, giving her the appearance of being prim and proper, but her eyes, a pale blue-grey, sparkled mischievously suggested nothing of the sort.

As she drew closer to where he stood, her facial features revealed little make-up; other than a thin layer of mascara to accentuate her eyes, and a discreet amount of lipstick, in an unobtrusive shade, to give her full lips more prominence, her obvious natural beauty spoke for itself.

He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Hi, he said nervously, as if on speaking to her, she might mystically disappear. I didn’t think you would come, he continued.

Whatever gave you that impression?

Her voice as formidable, as her appearance, the Australian twang on the pronunciation of her words, reminding him of his own roots, and of the home he left behind several years previously; his own accent having been lost by conversing purely in French during his recent history.

Because I didn’t believe I could be so lucky, he managed to say, slightly flushing at his lack of self-confidence.

How can any woman refuse a second date from a nice guy, such as you? she smiled.

Was she serious? Their first encounter wasn’t even a first date – more of a chance meeting. He was seated alone, as usual, at his favourite café, deeply engrossed in a novel he was reading. The cup of coffee on the table before him, half consumed, and now stone cold. A movement caught in his peripheral vision distracted him, and he averted his eyes from the page to view two pairs of shapely long legs sweep past. Inwardly delighted when they stopped just by him, as the persons they belonged to lowered themselves on chairs at a nearby table.

Not meaning to eavesdrop, but he was too drawn to their conversation which thankfully was in English, not that he had anything against the French language, on the contrary, he found French a beautiful language, however, his own tongue was so much more pleasing to his ears. The novel he was reading was instantly ignored, but Victor wasn’t going to show rudeness by looking at them though, so his eyes remained fixed on the page before him, despite no words being absorbed.

Something said, made one of the women laugh. Well, say ‘laugh’, it was more of a mixture of a chuckle and a laugh, a sound that ignited a deep-rooted memory, from an encounter a very long time ago, at least forty years, if not more, to be precise. It was a special sound, belonging to someone equally very special in his life at the time – his very first and only, true love.

Instinctively, he looked up at the woman whose burst of joy had caught his imagination, and he sucked in his breath from the shock of what he saw.

Are you okay? the other woman asked, then remembering where she was, repeated the question in French.

Unable to respond, he simply nodded.

You don’t look very well, she continued in that same language, and she was more than grateful to have studied French at college, otherwise this trip would have been difficult. Your complexion is as white as a sheet.

Victor’s eyes, however, were still fixed on the younger of the two. Her long chestnut-coloured hair, perfect lips, brown eyes, and pale colouring. It was as though he’d been projected back in time – but how was that possible?

Maybe he’s having a stroke, mum?

I don’t think so, but he’s certainly not doing too well. The older of the two women replied, reverting to her mother-tongue.

Victor could hear them talking, but his mind was back in Melbourne, in autumn 1970, he was nineteen years old, and she, two years his junior. Yet here she was before him, not a day older, whereas he was in his mid-sixties.

He shook his head, snapping him back to the here and now.

I am ever so sorry, for startling you, he said in English, turning his head to glance at the elder woman’s face, their eyes met, and he caught her smile.

Can I buy you both a coffee? he offered, the words leaving his mouth as if they were a thought said out loud.

That would be nice . . . Thank you, she replied.

He felt his heart leap as they stood to reposition their chairs at his table, before sitting down again, and crossing their legs. Their movement causing a slight flutter in his throat as he caught his breath. It had been a good many years since he was in the company of such beautiful women.

Can we ask what startled you so? the younger of the two women asked.

It’s just that you reminded me of someone I once knew. . . the resemblance is uncanny, that it jolted me for a moment.

From your reaction, would I be right in saying she was more than a passing acquaintance? the elder of the two asked.

Victor simply nodded, then remembering his manners, introduced himself, his eyes reverting to gaze once more on the younger woman.

Now there’s a coincidence, the elder of the two said, my name is Victoria, and this here is my daughter,

Carla, he whispered, lovingly.

Isabelle, she corrected. She tilted her head slightly sideways as though studying him closer; his heartfelt whisper of another woman’s name piquing her curiosity in more ways than even she could imagine, and hesitating slightly before continuing to speak. Oddly, ‘Carla’ was my mother’s name, Victoria said, her own voice sounding slightly startled by Victor’s assumption.

His gaze immediately sweeping to Victoria’s face, jaw slightly dropping, and mouth opening in shock. He never did believe in coincidences. He needed to learn more about them, but this was not the place to do it, and, perhaps, nor the right time.

As though she read his mind, she changed the subject.

What’s the book about? she asked, her head nodding in its direction, the tone of her voice suggesting genuine interest.

Nothing too exciting; just another crime novel, he said with a smirk, and held it up so they could see the cover.

Out of the Darkness, I haven’t heard of that one! Victoria remarked.

Probably because the author is not as well-known as some crime writers, he said shrugging his shoulders as though it was unimportant.

Over two sets of coffees that dragged into lunch they spoke over a variety of subjects, but Victor, and he suspected Victoria also, desperately wanted to know more about his past love, and why he ‘saw’ her daughter as a facsimile of that person. For now, though, they skirted the subject, and their animated conversation was as though they had been friends who had been reunited after a long separation. By late afternoon, it was hard to part company.

Having exchanged phone numbers, he convinced himself, once out of sight, because of the way they had met, his invitation to meet again the following day would be immediately forgotten . . . but here she was now, standing before him, looking even more beautiful than the previous day; he truly felt privileged.

He stepped near her to pull the chair back, a chivalrous action from an age long dead, but not for someone as poetic as he.

Thank you, she said as she lowered herself onto the seat.

As Victor took a seat opposite, her smile made the small gesture all worthwhile. No sooner had he sat down, than the waiter appeared at the side of the table.

Would you like a drink, while you consider your meals? the man asked.

Victoria’s eyes flickered momentarily, as her glance shifted from looking at Victor to the waiter’s.

A glass of Prosecco, please, she answered in French, respectfully, her voice firm and decisive.

Make it a bottle; please have it well chilled and brought in an ice bucket, Victor interjected with a smile that would melt the said ice.

By the time the waiter returned with their beverages, they had decided on what to eat, and Victor ordered for them. They watched as the waiter poured out the sparkling wine into their glasses, before resuming their conversation.

"I suppose I would be a fraud if I said