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

Автор: Rebecca Raisin

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Контркультура

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isbn: 9781474035521

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СКАЧАТЬ we, America?’ He extended an elbow so I looped my arm through, feeling strangely at ease with him, like I would an uncle or someone harmless.

      ‘So tell me,’ he continued, ‘what are they like? They’re not all chemistry nerds, are they?’ While he slurred his words slightly, he still had a sparkle in his eye that led me to believe the alcohol he’d consumed didn’t affect his thought process at all. Maybe he hated flying and had imbibed? Who was I to judge? Though a simple oil blend of basil, clary sage, palmarosa and ylang ylang could have helped alleviate his fear of flying if that was the indeed the case …

      ‘I’ve only met Clementine and Kathryn properly, and they seem …’, I grappled with words to describe the crafty duo, ‘… well studied about their opposition.’

      ‘Internet stalkers, you mean?’

      I laughed, liking that he played it down, as if it was nothing to be concerned about. ‘Pretty much. They seem to think Anastacia is the one to watch.’

      ‘Ah, it’s always the Russians who get cast as the bad girls. And how did they rate you?’

      I shrugged, not wanting to share their summation of me because I didn’t want him purposely pitting against me if he thought I was a threat. I kept reminding myself to watch what I said, and not give too much away.

      ‘They didn’t say much at all,’ I lied, smiling up at my new friend. ‘No fancy chemistry degrees for me. I was taught by my nan at home …’ So my nan had one of the best noses in the business; there was no need to share that piece of information.

      ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘So you are one to watch then. You home-taught perfumers always want it more for some reason. A point to prove and all that.’

      Lex had an innate skill at reading between the lines. Perhaps he was the one to watch. ‘I wish,’ I said, making my voice light. ‘I’ve never been to Paris. It’s about the experience for me.’

      He grinned as if he wasn’t going to pull me up on the lie. ‘The world of perfumery is much smaller than you think; everyone has secrets which aren’t so hard to uncover, so tread carefully, and don’t trust anyone.’

      ‘Including you?’

      He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Especially me.’

      I returned his smile but I didn’t believe a word of it. What was the worst any of them could do? Hunt for one of my formulas? Gossip about me? Big deal. It would all hinge on our perfumery skills.

      Generally speaking, perfumers were quiet, studious types who found comfort in numbers, formulas, the magic of chemistry. I doubted they’d be devious, or play unfairly. But I didn’t really know that for certain, and with the prize on offer it could potentially turn a quiet wallflower into someone else entirely, so I’d just tread carefully until I got to them know them all.

      We walked out into the starlit evening. ‘So let me guess, your nan was some kind of cloistered genius and she’s passed on her gift to you?’

      I laughed. ‘Yes, you could say that. Though she was fond of making perfume almost like an elixir.’

      ‘A cure-all? Why not!’

      I smiled. Most people never understood that. Nan believed the right scent could cure anything from heartbreak to the common cold. She was way ahead of her time. Aromatherapy was huge these days, but she’d taken it further, and decades before it was in fashion too. It was where I saw my own niche in the world of fragrance, making not just a scent, but bottling a perfume that could lift a mood, throw sunshine on cloudy days …

      ‘Is she in Paris, along for the ride?’

      ‘If only,’ I said. ‘She died a few years ago.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Don’t be. She’s here with me in spirit.’

      And she was, or at least I’d convinced myself of the fact so I could function without her. Still, I knew I’d never forget the day she died. It’d been memorable for so many reasons. We’d almost perfected a heritage rose perfume based upon the bloom of first love. I’d railed that you couldn’t bottle love – how could you? We’d been missing a key ingredient to balance the perfume but we couldn’t figure it out.

      Nan had joked it was because I hadn’t fallen in love before; I hadn’t explored the world and learned how to say the words I love you in three different languages. She was always on about that; fall in love, tell the man you love him in French, in German, in the language of love itself … whatever that meant! God, I missed my whimsical nan.

      I’d scoffed that day, rolled my eyes and gone back to trying to capture the elements we were missing but falling short.

      It was the closest we’d come to capturing something as tangible as love in a bottle. It was a concoction of rose, cashmere wood, raspberry leaf, patchouli, freesia and blackcurrant, but lacked an element, an aroma we just couldn’t pinpoint.

      That antique rose perfume remained there still, unfinished. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it without Nan.

      Those early days were grey and full of the scent of rain without her.

      ‘Let’s meet this motley group then,’ I said, smiling and shrugging off the cloak of memory so it didn’t bring me down.

       Chapter 5

      We arrived at the Lecléres and were shown to an enormous and elegant dining room by an elderly man in a suit that fit much better than Lex’s did. The chatter stopped immediately and all eyes landed on us like laser beams. Some gave us slow onceovers, others cocked heads and smiled, a few narrowed their eyes summing us up with one long stare. Contestants and the Leclére management team mingled as I tried to put faces to names from our various video calls.

      A trio broke from their circle and came over to introduce themselves. Someone handed me some champagne which I guzzled to settle my nerves. My roommate sauntered over, a faux fur stole over her shoulders despite the warm weather.

      ‘Clementine,’ I said, relieved to see a familiar face. ‘This is Lex. Lex, this is my roommate, Clem.’

      Introductions were made and more bubbles quaffed. Clementine barely let anyone get a word in, so most of us slowly edged away from her, clustering in couples making polite if not stilted conversation. Kathryn called me over and I excused myself from Lex.

      ‘So where is Sebastien, then?’ she asked, casting her eye around the room.

      I surveyed the men present and recalled their faces from innumerable video chats, so none of them were the great man himself. He’d be tall, and wiry, and have intense eyes that darted about. Or would he be more masculine and suave, letting his famous name carry him?

      ‘I don’t think he’s here or surely he’d have introduced himself,’ I said with a sigh. No wonder no one could snap a picture of him, he never turned up. ‘Is he even real?’

      ‘Makes you wonder,’ Kathryn said. ‘Aurelie’s not here either. Some welcome party.’ She toyed with her napkin. ‘It’s all a little СКАЧАТЬ