The Little Perfume Shop Off The Champs-Élysées. Rebecca Raisin

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СКАЧАТЬ told him all about my sister, and our doomed plans, leaving out any talk of perfumery itself. How I had to make a go of it here, or else there was nothing left for me. It sounded dire, so I tried to laugh it off as if it was nothing.

      ‘Why can’t you go alone to New York if that’s your dream?’ The wildcard thing flashed in my mind. Maybe I wasn’t as gifted as I thought, and everyone but me knew that. I pushed that anxiety down once more. Nan wouldn’t have boosted me up all these years if I was mediocre, would she?

      I realized I hadn’t answered him. ‘It’s complicated.’

      ‘I see,’ he said, but clearly didn’t.

      He’d never understand, he was probably born with a trust fund by the looks of him and probably dabbled in the stock market or something equally high flying. Still, it was nice to chat with someone who didn’t know me but listened intently as if he cared.

      Usually I’d never confide in a stranger, but Paris made me bold. There was a freedom in sharing, an almost cathartic quality about it. ‘What about you? You said you’ve got more work ahead of you tonight?’

      He nodded, and stared into his wine glass, his demeanor changing at the mention of his work. An uplifting blend of basil, lime and mandarin would lift his mood and galvanize him, but again I didn’t dare mention perfumery because of the rules in my contract, plus the fact he’d probably baulk at the suggestion that a blend of oils could ease his angst. ‘I was supposed to do a lot of things today, but they didn’t happen for various reasons, and I know it’ll make tomorrow so much harder.’

      ‘Why didn’t you do them? Ran out of time?’

      He sighed, and gave me the type of rueful grin that was more a grimace. ‘Some days I find it impossible to do what’s expected of me; today was one of those days. It’s like I’m walking through mud, and I wonder why I’m bothering.’

      I nodded, watching as the green of his eyes clouded, his mood sobered and I got the feeling it was more than just a hectic work day. Like me, he wasn’t giving away much detail and I respected that.

      ‘Perhaps tomorrow will be better for both of us. Aren’t we woeful sitting here, slumped over a bar when we’re in Paris?’ Although I didn’t feel particularly woeful. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in years. Maybe it was the fact he was a good listener, or that we were both having a challenging day and yet we’d found some common ground. Or maybe it was the amount of alcohol I’d consumed.

      ‘We can only hope.’

      I finished my drink, and jumped when I checked the time. It was past midnight! Contestants were supposed to be back in our rooms well before then. A curfew had been set so that we gave the competition our all, and here I was breaking a rule already.

      ‘Thanks for the chat,’ I said, holding out a hand to shake, feeling a distinct spark when he squeezed back softly.

      ‘Thanks, Del. It was lovely to meet you without incident this time.’ His eyes sparkled with mirth.

      I shook my head, he just had to mention it. ‘Au revoir,’ I said smiling and walking into the balmy night. If only I’d met him at some other time, when I didn’t have my whole future hanging in the balance. It was only later, I realized I hadn’t caught his name, but he’d known mine. Too much champagne, I groaned, had turned me into an over sharer of the worst kind …

       Chapter 6

      Brilliant sunlight broke through fluffy clouds while I waited impatiently for the day to begin. Challenge one was here, and I was raring to go, albeit with a slight headache. Still, no one seemed any the wiser that I’d crept in past curfew. My secret was safe and I vowed never to do it again.

      I showered and dressed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Clementine who slept like she lived – loudly – her snores and random burst of sleep-talking punctuating the space.

      ‘Del, stop with that thing you are doing. It’s driving me crazy!’ she said, and held a pillow tight to her face.

      ‘What thing?’ I said, as I sat quietly on the edge of my bed, waiting for the right time to go down to breakfast. I’d already flicked through my nan’s perfume bible and re-made up my face, going from matte red lipstick to nude in an effort to appear barely made up and carefree.

      I’d googled the best way to tie scarves (French women are born knowing such a skill and I didn’t want any more roadside scares while I chased an errant piece of fabric!). I’d also settled on wearing a beret for all of three minutes until I realized I was trying too hard. Being a morning person had its fallbacks. And I was not under any circumstances thinking of the guy the universe had flung in my path three times, because I wasn’t here for love. Those deep unfathomable green eyes of his though …

      ‘Stop that clink, clink, clink!’

      ‘What clink?’

      ‘Your bracelets!’

      ‘Oh! Sorry. Nervous habit. Well you’re awake now. It’s time to rise and shine, Clem.’

      ‘I’m not awake!’ she hollered. It was evident Clementine only had one volume. Loud.

      ‘Clem, we have to go soon.’ It wasn’t my place to babysit her, but I didn’t want her to miss the first day.

      I opened the curtains and sunshine brightened the room. She tunneled further under the blanket, swearing at me in French.

      ‘Non, non, non! Shut them!’

      ‘OK, fine,’ I said, breezily. ‘I’ll be the first one at breakfast and I’m sure I can find out what the challenge is today. I’ll be one step ahead! I’ll probably win this week …’ I let the words hang in the air as she sat bolt upright, her once heat-styled curls a bird’s nest atop her head, smudges of mascara in panda rings around her eyes.

      Raking her fingers through her hair and wincing, she said, ‘Argh. You’re right. Give me an hour.’

      ‘An hour? It’s already seven-thirty. We’re supposed to be at breakfast by eight and be assembled out front of Leclére Parfumerie at nine.’

      ‘Mon dieu, OK, thirty minutes!’ With a groan she dragged herself from bed and surveyed herself in the mirror, gasping at the sight of her semi-dreadlocked tresses. I shuddered to think how much time Clementine spent on her morning toilette: intensive hair dressing, the over-the-top outfits, make-up application including dramatic fake lashes, and color-coordinated nail polish.

      I let out a long sigh, more for effect than anything. ‘Don’t fuss with your hair, just put it in a ponytail.’

      She reeled back as if I’d suggested she go running through the streets naked. ‘I don’t think so, ma cherie. Run the iron over my pink dress.’ She hopped into the shower, steam filtering out the open door and filling up the small space.

      ‘No, Clementine!’ I yelled over the hissing water. ‘I’m not your parlor maid! Just wear something casual.’ Still, I flicked through Clementine’s clothes out of curiosity, each of her dresses more outlandish than the last, but stunning СКАЧАТЬ