The Devil Of Oz Page 2
* * * * * * * * * *
The rest of the week had passed in a blur. There had been boring, but necessary trips to the real estate to sort out the paperwork required for making online rental payments. She hadn’t really wanted to give up the lease on her flat, and until she saw how this nanny thing went, she wanted to keep her options open. A safety net if things went pear-shaped.
She’d made a trip to the vets to get Percival’s medication, and most importantly, a last minute shopping spree. Full of enthusiasm she’d stocked up on strappy-girly- sundresses, sweet little shorts, sparkly tee-shirts and pretty summer sandals with kitten heels. Annabelle had known they would probably be impractical -- but she couldn’t resist them -- and jumbo-sized bottles of 30 SPF lotion. She didn’t want to end up looking like a cooked lobster.
Finally the big day arrived. Rolling over, Annabelle squinted through bleary eyes at the bedside clock: 5.00 am.
“Shit,” she groaned. Resisting the devilish temptation to push the snooze button, she kicked the sheet back, stumbled into the kitchen and switched on the kettle.
Much revived after her second coffee she headed to the closet-sized bathroom. After a quick shower she wrapped herself in a large, fluffy towel and padded into her room. Flinging open her cupboard she stood, head tilted to the side and chewing on her nail as she rifled through her substantial wardrobe.
“No. No. No,” she moaned, pushing hangers to the side. “A closet full of clothes and I still have nothing to wear.”
One hour later she hopped up and down in front of her one and only mirror. Turning this way and that, she studied her reflection with a critical eye.
“Not bad I suppose. Although I’m not too sure about the pattern,” she said, fingering the colourful cotton dress. “Well I’m not changing again. I think three times is more than enough.”
Sitting on the suitcase she zipped it up and with a satisfied ‘hmm’ she carried it to the door and placed it down next to her faux-leather cosmetic case – which she recalled with a snort of annoyance had cost her $50 at ‘The House of Bags.’
“Oh well.” She shrugged, admiring the shiny gold handle and lock, and attached hot-pink-tasseled-key. Bending down, she flicked it backwards and forwards, enjoying the decadent feel of the silk tassel on her skin. “It was so worth every dollar.”
Standing she slipped on her new, sexy heels and holding out her foot she pointed her toes. Turning her foot from side to side, she eyed the way they trimmed her calves, which in turn seemed to lengthen her legs. Her lips tilted up in a smile and humming softly she gathered her bags and Percival’s travelling cage and with a last lingering look she pulled the door shut, the automatic lock engaging as she walked off.