by Katie Fforde
She woke to find her little finger touching Alec’s on the seat. She glanced up to find him looking out of the window. For a tiny moment she had allowed herself to wonder whether this was deliberate; then she closed her eyes again.
Pascal was at the barrier to meet them at the airport. He was smiling, relaxed and his presence put Caro back into French mode instantly. They embraced warmly.
‘I admire you, Caro, being able to fit all you need into this small case,’ he said, taking it and wheeling it along for her. ‘Neither my girlfriend nor my sister could ever manage that.’
Caro was certain he meant to be complimentary but she felt a bit deflated. She shouldn’t be the sort of woman who could fit everything into a carry-on. She should demand proper luggage and take the kitchen sink (or its cosmetic equivalent) with her wherever she went. Then she would be glamorous, or, if that was beyond her, more like Frenchwomen generally.
‘Well, we’re here to work!’ she said gaily. ‘As long as I can borrow a lab coat, I’ll be fine.’
‘No work tonight,’ said Pascal firmly. ‘But I’m afraid I’m going to steal Alec for a meeting with some other perfumiers. They’ve heard the story about the lost scent and want details. But Amalie is looking forward to a cosy little dinner with you, Caro.’
Caro was very fond of Pascal but her hackles rose. She was just as capable of giving details as Alec was – in fact, she felt, she was somewhat better. However, she was too tired to make an issue of it.
‘That sounds exactly what I want,’ she said, and it was nearly true.
‘Yes,’ said Alec. ‘We need to start as early as possible tomorrow. We need to get back to Scotland as soon as we can.’
Pascal put his hand on Alec’s shoulder. ‘Your father is still very ill, I am sorry.’
‘And Caro has a celebrity wedding to organise,’ Alec added more brightly.
‘Amalie will be delighted to hear all about that, I’m sure.’
Pascal, although handsome and charming, had rather limited ideas about what women were interested in, Caro concluded, and was relieved to remember that Amalie wasn’t the sort of woman likely to fall on her wanting celebrity gossip.
A delicious but fairly light meal with a couple of glasses of wine turned out to be just what Caro felt like. She and Amalie ate at a small table on the terrasse, occasionally hearing bursts of male laughter through the windows of another room.
‘Pascal is part of a group of perfumiers who get together from time to time. It could be very useful for Alec to get to know them or I would have told Pascal to change the venue.’
Caro, her attitude possibly affected by the wine and the food, reverted to liking Pascal. He obviously had Alec’s business interests at heart.
The next morning, Caro awoke early, showered and dressed and then went down to the kitchen in search of coffee. Breakfast could come later but she needed caffeine now.
Alec was there and seemed pleased to see her. ‘Oh, great that you’re up! Pascal has given me a key; we can go to the lab whenever we’re ready. Are you going to have breakfast?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a bit of bread and butter,’ she said, although she knew he wanted her to say no. ‘But as you’re obviously in a hurry, I could take it with me and eat it in the car.’ She frowned. ‘Have we got a car?’
‘Um – er – no,’ said Alec.
‘Shall we ring a cab, then?’ She glanced at her phone, which told her it was only seven in the morning.
‘No. We do have transport, it’s just it’s not a car. It’s a motorbike.’
‘Oh my God!’ There was once a time when Caro would have been eager to please her love-object. But those days were long gone. ‘I have never been on a motorbike and I don’t want to start now.’
‘Pascal has lent me leathers for us both and helmets. I thought it would be fun, whizzing through the French countryside.’
‘It’s the word “whizzing” I’m worrying about.’
He put his hand on her arm and smiled at her. ‘I promise I won’t whizz.’
Alec didn’t smile quite often enough in Caro’s opinion, but when he did, she found it very hard to resist.
‘I’ll give it a go until the end of the drive, but if I don’t like it, I won’t go any further.’
‘I’ll make sure you like it. And when we get to the lab, I’ll bring you the best croissants you’ve ever tasted, I promise.’
As she climbed into the leathers, which, to her huge relief, were actually a bit big for her, Caro recalled forbidding Posy to ever go on the back of a motorbike. As she zipped the all-in-one suit over the long linen shorts that Lennie had put into her bag without mentioning them, she resolved that Posy would never hear about this trip.
Alec drove very sedately to the end of the drive, which was fairly long and so a reasonable test. After her initial terror, Caro found herself relaxing into it a bit. And the romantic in her did appreciate clinging on to the man she loved, even if he didn’t appear to love her quite as much in return.
He put his feet on the ground when the bike had stopped. ‘Well? Are you up for it?’
She nodded. ‘As long as you don’t go really fast the minute you’re on the road.’
‘I promise to look after you. And if you think I’m going too fast, just squeeze my waist.’
‘Alec, I’m going to be clinging on for grim death. You won’t notice an extra squeeze.’
‘Well, shout. And I’ll check back often, until I’m sure you’re really happy.’ He paused. ‘I really do appreciate you doing this. I did try to borrow a car but there was nothing available.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Caro. ‘Now let’s go before I lose my nerve.’
She tried hard to channel her inner Audrey Hepburn, imagining she was in Rome on the back of a Vespa, Roman Holiday being one of her favourite films. Sadly, they were travelling quite a bit faster than that Vespa had been capable of.
However, she did what Joe had once told her to do when she was nervous about something, and breathed deeply. It helped and soon she didn’t have to pretend to be Audrey to enjoy it – she genuinely was enjoying herself. And the last part of the journey, through the narrow and steep streets of Grasse, had been quite like the film.
She was a bit shaky, though. Her fingers struggled to unclip the helmet. Alec took over and removed it from her head when he had released the fastener. He ruffled her hair. ‘Don’t want the world to know you’ve been on a bike. Even I know “helmet hair” is bad.’ He grinned at her. ‘You did really well! I’ll make a biker chick out of you yet.’
Caro tried to think of a slick response but failed. Her legs were wobbly and she had to hang on to him.
‘Let’s get you upstairs to the lab and then I’ll get breakfast. Would you like a brandy in your coffee?’
‘Actually, I would!’ she said, thinking: Only in France!
‘Here,’ said Alec. ‘This should be it. Is it really so different?’
Caro closed her eyes and inhaled the perfume. ‘It’s not hugely different but – I’m sorry! – it’s not the same.’
The trouble was, although she could remember the fragrance in Scarlet’s ancient bottle, she didn’t know what needed to be added to the one she was smelling now in order to recreate Scarlet’s sample. She also understood it was hard for Alec, who had all the technical knowledge but not her super-memory for fragrance.
He sniffed again. ‘Maybe it’s the top notes that are a bit different. What do we think? Something a little bitter? Vetiver? Petitgrain?’
‘I don’t know!’ said Caro.
‘Tell you what, why don’t you go and buy us some lunch? You need a break. Take some time and come back with something substantial to eat.’
‘Not something nice? Just something filling?’
He nodded. ‘I’m afraid I’m starving!’
It was nice to get out of the warmth of the lab, to clear her head and her nose. The sun was bright and while it was pleasant to feel it on her face, she wanted to get
lunch before allowing herself a few minutes to relax and enjoy it.
She cut down a narrow alley she knew led into the main street. Here there was a large circular fountain, the water sparkling in the sunshine, cafés with their outside tables busy with people having lunch. She had seen people were hurrying along with their lunchtime baguettes under their arms before, some stopping to chat to friends, others just waving or briefly kissing (three times) their acquaintances before continuing on their errands. Now she was among them and it felt delightfully foreign – as if she’d relocated to France.
There was a row of scooters that reminded Caro of their journey on the motorbike and she found she was smiling. She had enjoyed that trip once she’d stopped being terrified. The fountain drew her in and while gazing mindlessly at the drops of water she spotted a little delicatessen and went over to look in the window.
It seemed to sell mainly charcuterie – salami, ham, innumerable sausages – and cheeses. She spotted a rack of flûtes, which she knew would be fresh and would be delicious with cheese and pâté. She couldn’t resist buying a bottle of rosé although she knew they probably wouldn’t drink it.
Slightly regretting adding the weight of the wine to her bag, Caro wandered out of the street and up the steps to the higher level. Grasse wasn’t a glamorous Côte d’Azur town like Nice or Antibes but she liked its workaday atmosphere. It was a place where people lived and worked and there were some very beautiful villas tucked behind tall gates and walls.
Now she had bought their lunch she could find a bench to sit on and shut her eyes and turn her face to the sun. This would restore her and then she could go back to the lab and the problem of the perfume.
She found a bench and settled herself for a few moments’ sunbathing. But while she was feeling the blessed warmth which would soon become too hot she was aware of an odour assaulting her nose.
She kept her eyes shut as she tried to identify it. It was sweet and a little bit sickly, and it reminded her of the smell of lilies which she never knew if she loved or hated. But as she breathed in the fragrance, hardly daring to move in case it went away, she realised it might well be the missing element of Scarlet’s perfume. This could be the thing that would make it perfect.
The trouble was, the two samples from the original smelt very subtly different from each other. It was probably to do with how they had been stored but Caro felt the one Scarlet knew was the one they should recreate. And she was sure she’d just sniffed the smell that would make their creation perfect.
She opened her eyes, feeling brave. She looked up at the foliage around her and at first she could see nothing. Then she spotted it. Curled up and nearly brown she saw some sprigs of jasmine. She had to climb on to the bench to check it was the source of the smell and was relieved when she found it was. But she couldn’t just go back to Alec and say the scent needed gone-over jasmine, she needed to bring a sample.
A quick glance around told her she was alone so she reached up to the sprigs of jasmine. Two seconds later she was wondering if it was worth going to buy some scissors, the stalks of the jasmine were so tough. But she persevered and eventually got a couple of sprigs although her hands suffered in the process.
When she arrived at the lab at the top of the stairs, lunch banging painfully against her leg, she was out of breath and very thirsty. It was only after she’d had a drink of water that she could speak.
‘I think I’ve found it!’ she said.
‘What?’
‘What’s missing from Scarlet’s perfume.’
‘There’s nothing missing. We added the final ingredient before you went for lunch. You know we did. You checked it off the list.’
‘But it’s not right. It doesn’t smell the same as Scarlet’s own version. But I was sitting in the sunshine when I realised I could smell something and I just knew it was what we needed.’
Alec made a good attempt at believing her but Caro could tell he wasn’t really convinced. He was the trained perfumier, she was just (she felt) a gifted amateur, and although making scent was an art it was firmly based in science. ‘How can you be sure?’
She wiped away the perspiration that was gathering at her hairline and felt another drop running down her spine. ‘Indulge me. We need two batches, one with jasmine – slightly going over, with that slight smell of decay it always has – and one without.’
He wasn’t paying attention. ‘Your hands! What have you done to them?’
‘Just scratched them a bit picking the jasmine – those stems are bloody tough – but never mind about that. Take a sample of what you’ve got now and add a tiny bit of jasmine and see what we’ve got.’
‘Let me see to your hands first.’ He took her over to the little sink and turned on the tap. ‘You must be very convinced to actually injure yourself to prove a point.’
‘I’m not proving a point,’ she said, annoyed even while she enjoyed seeing her hands in his big brown ones, feeling his fingers rub away at the dried blood. ‘I just want it to be perfect.’
‘So do I,’ he said, turning off the tap and handing her a towel. ‘Two batches it is.’
It was late afternoon, they were both very tired and Caro still wasn’t happy with Scarlet’s version of the fragrance. Alec had taken tiny quantities of the perfume as far as they’d got it and then added further fragrance. Caro recorded the amounts and the ingredients, but none of the new versions was right. Then, hot and tired, he let his finger slip on the bulb of the pipette and a large squirt of something was added into the mix.
He cursed softly and was about to discard the solution when Caro said, ‘Hang on! Let me smell!’
He dipped a paper wand into it, waved it about for a few seconds and then handed it to her.
She shut her eyes, sent her memory back to Scarlet’s treasured bottle of perfume and then inhaled the fragrance. ‘That’s it!’ she said after a few seconds. ‘That’s perfect! For Scarlet’s version. We’ve done it! Was it jasmine you just put in?’
‘Hedione,’ he said. ‘Practically an aphrodisiac – remember? In fact, if you believe they exist, that’s what it is. I thought it would be too strong or I’d have tried it before.’ He sniffed the wand too. ‘You’re right, it’s like jasmine but not quite. This is a lovely fragrance.’
‘The trouble is, we don’t know how much hedione we put in.’
‘We can work it out,’ said Alec, ever so slightly pityingly. ‘We know how much the vial weighed before my hand slipped and we can weigh it now.’ He paused. ‘Perfume-making is chemistry, you know. Science.’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s also an art.’
Caro enjoyed the ride home. She was no longer frightened of the motorbike and Alec didn’t speed. When he pointed the bike into the drive to the chateau and she knew her journey was nearly over she felt sad. And as she clambered off the back, staggering just a little, she wondered if, now they’d recreated the perfume, her journey with Alec was over too. She shook the thought out of her mind quickly.
‘Ah! You are back!’ said Amalie as they walked into the hall, holding their helmets under their arms in a way that made Caro feel very edgy and cool.
‘Didn’t you expect us to come back?’ said Caro. ‘Did you think we’d fall off the bike?’
She shrugged. ‘I thought you may well have ridden off into the sunset together. Now come and have a quick glass of champagne before you shower and change. I hope you don’t feel ill at the thought but we are having a little celebration.’
Although Caro was deathly tired and the thought of a party did indeed make her feel a bit faint, if not actually ill, she smiled. ‘How delightful! What are you celebrating?’ she said, following Amalie into the kitchen where Pascal was pouring champagne.
‘Well, we have managed to get our gîte done and into a very smart guidebook and we already have a booking,’ said Amalie. ‘But also – more relevant for you and Alec – another member of the group of perfumiers who were here last night has arrived. He’s very important,’
she added, her eyes widening to indicate just how important.
‘Great,’ said Caro weakly, anticipating an evening when her French would be under pressure. The trouble with that was, when she stopped being able to understand or join in, she would start to yawn.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Pascal, handing them each a full glass. ‘If you drink some champagne and have dinner, honour will be satisfied. But Alec, you will have to meet Monsieur Moulin.’
Alec obviously knew the name and while he looked tired he did not appear to be unhappy at the prospect of dinner and champagne with a famous perfumier. ‘We deserve a celebration too. Our day in your hot but extremely useful laboratory has not been wasted.’
‘Did you manage to recreate the perfume?’ asked Pascal, suddenly much more animated.
‘Two versions of it,’ said Alec. ‘One made to M. Dolinière’s recipe – as far as we could tell – and one that Caro says is slightly different, that Scarlet, our client, had a sample of.’
‘You have this second one with you?’ said Pascal. ‘I would be interested to see the difference.’
‘Sadly not,’ said Alec. ‘The client didn’t want her original sample to leave her. But Caro is confident she knows the difference.’
‘Without a sample?’ Pascal was incredulous.
Caro felt defensive. ‘I have a very good memory for smells,’ she said. ‘And I swear I can smell things on television.’
Pascal smiled in a way that caused Caro to make a conscious decision not to feel patronised. She was too tired to fight the feminist cause just then, although even she thought her smell thing was a little weird.
‘I’ll go and have a shower,’ she said.
