The Little Perfume Shop Off the Champs-Élysées

by Rebecca Raisin

  Leaving the Moulin Rouge a few hours later, with the bright gaudy lights flashing behind us, we giggled, zigzagging down the streets of Paris, everything more colourful, louder, and brighter, than before. The show had definitely been an eye-opener, I’d never seen so many feathers! And sequins! The girls were spectacular dancers and the show was arty, rather than sleazy.

  Clementine was right, after the first five minutes les tétons and their semi-naked bodies were forgotten and it was more the allure of the dance, the costumes and the performance. Extravagant and burlesque much like Clementine herself.

  As we walked home swaying from a little too much liquid happiness, we chatted aimlessly about this and that.

  ‘Who do you think will win the competition, Del?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘Lex, or Lila.’ Champagne should’ve been called truth serum. It was too late to snatch the words back, and I reminded myself I had to be careful around the two girls when it came to talking about other contestants. I couldn’t trust them with any confidences and I worried Clem would home in on Lila if she thought she was a threat. Note to self: don’t drink champagne like water, ever again.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said brightly. ‘I thought we were having a night off from perfumery!’

  I caught the pair exchange a glance before they turned to me, big smiles on their faces. ‘Yes, yes, you’re totally right. So, who wants to have a cocktail at the Ritz?’

  ‘Oh, look at the time,’ I said. There’s was no chance I was showing my face at the Ritz after the whole running-out-without-paying disaster there. ‘It’s close to curfew, we have to get back.’

  ‘Oh, look at the little rule follower!’ Clementine said sing-songy.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t want to jeopardize my place.’

  I shrugged deeper into my coat, suddenly wanting to escape from the pair. Up ahead, I saw a familiar figure wandering in his particular way, hands in pockets head down contemplating. Clementine and Kathryn hadn’t noticed him, so I begged off, claiming I had calls to make back home. Clementine kept up her volley of teasing but I let the words roll away, and rushed ahead hoping to catch Sebastien who’d turned up a side avenue.

  I hurried to find him, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice. The last thing I needed was to arouse suspicion by hanging out with my mentor so close to midnight. But something pulled me toward Sebastien, maybe it was the fact I knew his secret when no one else did.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, finding him at another late night bar, phone in hand.

  ‘Del, what are you doing out so late?’

  ‘Sorry, Dad.’ The damned curfew!

  He smiled, and my heart lifted. ‘More rules,’ he said laughing. ‘Crazy, non? What’s the difference if you’re out during the day or night?’

  ‘I guess they want us level headed, not seedy after burning the candle at both ends.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘What are you doing out so late?’ I spun the question back.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep. I find it so much harder in Paris to switch off. It’s almost like the busier the city, the busier my mind.’

  ‘Is that why you love Provence so much?’

  He nodded. ‘The fresh air, the lavender fields, olive groves. I could never tire of them.’

  ‘But you have a company to run, right? So I suppose Provence will have to wait?’ I held my breath.

  ‘For the next little while.’ His features remained closed off, and I knew I wouldn’t get the truth from him. Why would he confide in me?

  ‘Why don’t you make your own mark on the perfumery? Get rid of the rules and do it your way?’

  He was silent for the longest time, and when he finally glanced at me, his eyes were glassy. ‘It will never be the same without my papa. The magic is lost…’

  And I swear I heard my own heart break for him. His need to flee was so evident in every fibre of him…

  ***

  ‘No excuses, it’ll do you good,’ Lex said, pushing me to the foot of a staircase with far too many stairs for this time of the morning. We’d taken to meeting up to tour a different patch of Paris for an hour or two if we had the chance, or a break long enough. But it never involved exercise, nor a staircase winding all the way to heaven like Lex was presenting me now.

  ‘But there’s a perfectly good funicular we could use!’

  ‘America, what’s three hundred steps in the scheme of things?’

  ‘Three hundred! Lex, I won’t be able to walk for days after this!’

  He laughed, and gave me a gentle nudge. ‘Tell your story walking, America.’

  Lex was more nimble than I thought and bounded up the steps like some kind of athlete, I took a much slower pace knowing it’d hit me hard eventually. Runners jogged by barely out of breath and gave me get-out-of-the-way glares.

  ‘Remind me why we’re doing this?’ I huffed along behind, trying now to stay close to the rail and out of the way of the joggers.

  ‘It’s one of the best views of Paris. It truly shows you how huge this bustling city is. And Sacré-Coeur is up there too. The artists’ square. The wall of I Love Yous. Cobblestones so big they bite into your shoes. It’s like its own little world, looking down on the sprawl of Paris.’

  ‘In the funicular I could have seen the view of the city, Lex. Not the view of my own feet.’

  ‘Ach, America, where’s the fun in that? This way you know you’re alive, your blood is pumping and you worked for the view.’

  ‘Right.’ I couldn’t speak properly as my breathing grew heavier with each step.

  He laughed. ‘So tell me how it’s really going?’ He paused and gave me time to catch up.

  ‘What?’ I puffed.

  ‘The competition. You don’t seem to be very friendly with the management team and you’re friendly to everyone, even Clementine when she doesn’t deserve it.’

  When I caught up to him, I leaned back on the bannister, my chest heaving. I waited a minute or two to catch my breath. ‘The management team irk me no end,’ I laughed, a little shaken I’d made my feelings for them so obvious. ‘I just feel that for such a romantic business, one so full of whimsy and charm, that they’re so…austere. I mean, I get it’s a business, and it can’t all be fun and games, but they just seem to be at odds with what Vincent set out to do. And OK, Luc mentioned that I was only in the competition as a wildcard, so I’m still smarting over that little tidbit.’

  Lex wrinkled his brow. ‘But you’re only a wildcard because you haven’t had professional perfumery training.’

  ‘Who said my nan wasn’t a professional?’

  He tutted. ‘In their eyes, America, professional perfumery training means at an established university, or school. You know that. You’re here because despite that, you’re good, damn good, and they don’t care about where you were taught, just that you know your stuff regardless.’

  I hadn’t considered it that way before. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘They think you’ve got the goods and you’ve been freezing them out.’ He cackled high and loud.

  ‘Jeez, Lex, do you think they’ve all noticed?’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, America. They work for Sebastien at the end of the day… He makes the decisions not them.’

  I bit my lip. Not for much longer. As much as I trusted Lex, I couldn’t tell him about what I’d overheard. It didn’t seem right. Lex turned and ran up the next level of stairs.

  I trudged slowly behind. I’d been so damn sensitive about being called the wildcard that I hadn’t been able to see past it. Was I making other stupid choices because I lacked confidence in myself? There was Jen, and the issues between us. The more time I spent away from her the less we spoke, but that was life and being busy, right? This whole time I’d been blaming her, but really I had to shoulder half the responsibility too. People change and just because we were twins didn’t mean she had to put me first. Why should she? But there’d always be that piece of my heart that wondered what could have been if only James hadn’t wandered back to Whisperi
ng Lakes. And that was OK.

  ‘Lex,’ I said between heaves. ‘How many more steps?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  There was something strangely healing about my lungs burning, my muscles aching, that gave me the ability see a little more clearly. Not that I’d be hurrying to race up the steps to Montmartre again, not when there was a perfectly good funicular close by.

  ‘Lex-x-x!’ I called just to annoy him.

  ‘America, I’ve seen Colombian sloths that are faster than you. Get moving!’

  I laughed. ‘There better be a nice big piece of apple tarte tatin waiting at the top for me!’ Exercise would do me good before the big date with Sebastien, the big meeting, the following night. It might help shift some of that nervous energy I had when I was around him.

  Later that day I called Jen. She’d been on my mind since my walk in Montmartre with Lex. No two ways about it, I missed her with all my heart, and wondered if I was on her mind as much as she was on mine.

  ‘Where have you been? I was about to send a search party,’ I said, a classic Nan-ism, and one we’d heard time and again growing up.

  ‘Aww, sorry, Del. Things have been super crazy! I got your messages but with the time difference and all it’s been hard to catch you. I’ve been so busy I’ve lost track of days.’

  The love-struck fool couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep and I secretly hoped she’d be back to normal soon.

  ‘Why so busy? Extra shifts at Woodfired?’ Jennifer worked a few night shifts at the local pizzeria, and did accounts for a local building company during the day. Often the pizzeria would call her last minute to fill shifts and she always accepted the work in order to save for NYC…but now I wasn’t sure what she was saving for.

  ‘Yeah, work, and life in general. It feels like a lifetime ago you left and there’s still so much time to go…’

  ‘If I’m lucky.’ I missed my twin so badly but she was distracted, which was becoming our new normal.

  ‘You don’t need luck, Del! You’ve got talent.’

  I explained about the trouble I had in the first challenge and how my perfume wasn’t as spectacular as I’d hoped, and how competitive some of the contestants were.

  ‘Are you sure it’s not spectacular? Or is it the pressure talking? That’s the whole point of this adventure, to push you out of your comfort zone, and see where you land. Give yourself more credit, Del.’

  ‘I wished I’d taken a bigger leap out of my comfort zone. It’s like I am close to figuring out—’

  She cut me off. ‘Yeah, I see.’ There was a deep voice in the background, she covered the receiver, and there was some gravelly static before she came back. ‘What were you saying?’

  It was hard to gauge her emotions when she was in a different country. ‘You were talking.’ I made my voice bright. ‘How’s Pop?’

  Again, there was that voice in the background. Was James, the boyfriend, hovering by her so she was only half listening to me? ‘Pop misses you, we all do, but this is your time to shine,’ she said. ‘I have to run. Love you lots and keep the faith, yeah?’

  ‘OK, well one other thing…’ But she’d gone. What the hell? Out of sight, out of mind! Or was something wrong back home and she didn’t want to tell me?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sunday night rolled around quickly. Too quickly. Who wouldn’t want to go out to a fancy Parisian restaurant with one of the hottest men on the planet? Me! It complicated things and the contestants would be talking out of turn about it in two minutes flat. But maybe it meant I was safe from elimination. Why would he want to get to know me if I was leaving the next day? Or maybe the judges were still ruminating and the decision wasn’t made yet, in which case this could be my last night in Paris.

  Clock checking, I still had fifty-five minutes to wait.

  OK, yes, I’d taken a bit more care with my make-up. And my clothing, choosing a tight ruby red dress that Lila had insisted I buy from an antique market on the bank of the Seine, and perilously high black heels. My feet would be screaming if we did any real walking but they made me feel like a million bucks. The women here dressed so elegantly, and with Lila’s assurances I was on my way to a slightly more stylish version of the elegant French woman. We’d found the heels in a little emporium in the upper Marais, half price and my size, so what was a girl to do?

  I’d straightened my wavy hair, then I’d tied it up, then pulled it down, and then gave up. I spent a few minutes pouting in the mirror before catching myself and wiping off lipstick of my teeth. Honestly, what was I doing? The waiting sent me batty.

  And then finally a knock at the door. I opened it and his fragrance hit me first, a blend of juniper berry, orange and a base note of pepperwood. It conjured quiet nights, a G&T, a cabin in the woods and the type of man who’d stoke the fire, a book of French poetry left open on the armrest. Or so I imagined…

  We locked eyes, and for a moment the world stopped turning.

  He could be anyone, I hardly knew the guy, so why did my heart beat triple time? It was absurd. And I took pains to hide it, fluttering my hands and fidgeting. You could fall in love with someone on scent alone and what that triggered for you! Every perfumer hoped to make a scent like that, but I hadn’t expected to fall into an olfactory trap. It was a blend of aromas, that was all! Ooh la la, Paris was making me crazy!

  ‘Hello there!’ To recover after the long silence, I greeted him chirpily as if this was any night (which it was) and he was an old friend. A platonic old friend. Was it being in Paris watching lovers stroll hand-in-hand along the boulevards, or girls on tiptoe by the Eiffel Tower kissing their flush-faced beaus? Couples walked, arms entwined, by the river Seine. Love was everywhere here, the romance capital of the world perhaps that made even the closed-hearted among us dream.

  ‘Bonsoir.’

  ‘Come right in, I’ll get my handbag.’

  I went to step around him to grab my bag from the hook as he stepped forward to give me the double whammy cheek kiss and we bumped heads with a resounding crack. ‘Ow,’ I said, grabbing my forehead.

  ‘Désolé, Del. Let me see.’ He cupped my face, and surveyed the damage. My eyes watered from the pain, would there ever be a moment fiasco free with the man?

  ‘I’m OK,’ I managed, his proximity all I could think of. I made the mistake of gazing into his eyes, the deep oceanic green of them, and stopped. He was so unlike the men of my small town, so wholly different to any guy I’d ever had a flutter for. He enthralled me by scent alone and it painted a picture of what could be. Crazy. A possible concussion speaking. At this rate I’d have to buy a helmet to wear with all the pain I managed to inflict on myself.

  As he searched my face for damage he moved closer, his lips barely an inch from mine which had no bearing on anything. They were just close, that’s all. Closer than they’d been previously. But if you were into lips, then these would have been right up your alley. They were pretty luscious for a guy, and had that quirk to them, even when he was serious like he was now, that made a person feel like he’d be quick to smile. Quick to laugh. Would the pine-y juniper notes of gin linger on the softness of them? I wondered if I’d be able to taste the botanical liquor on his tongue. A moment later I was horrified to find my index finger suddenly millimetres away from his bottom lip as if I was going to…what? Hook him in for a kiss?

  I snatched my hand back, my eyes wide. He hadn’t had a G&T, that was all a fantasy created by his scent, so I wouldn’t be able to taste it anyway. It was his fragrance taking me on an olfactory journey of discovery that was FICTIONAL. I, of all people, should have known how that worked!

  He was still staring intently at me, and my legs almost gave way. I wasn’t cut out for this level of scrutiny.

  ‘I…’

  ‘Del…’ Just then the door burst open and in walked Clementine, babbling away at top volume.

  We jumped away from each other like we’d been zapped.

  ‘Ooh la la I forgot my—’ She st
opped and a hand flew to her mouth before she recovered, and smirked. ‘So that is ’ow it is.’ Crossing her arms, she waited for an explanation, and I grappled with what to say. It was innocent, dammit!

  Sebastien put a hand to the small of my back, ‘Bonsoir, Clementine,’ he said to her without a hint of embarrassment or the need to further explain. ‘We’re going to dinner. Enjoy your evening.’

  ‘Dinner, together? Fantastique.’ Her eyes glittered and the fine hair on my arms stood on end.

  ‘More a mentoring session,’ Sebastien said smoothly.

  My heart sank. What a fool! My cheeks flamed, it was never a date, it was always about perfumery… but I knew that didn’t I?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Outside, stars sparkled in the inky night as we made our way through the 8th arrondissement, and down to the 7th taking in the spectacular sight of the glittering Eiffel Tower, which lit up on the hour.

  In his linen blazer Sebastien looked every inch the urbane Frenchman, and attracted a number of second glances from women walking past. About twenty minutes into our walk I started to hobble in my heels and tried my best to breathe through the pain. Everyone walked in Paris, it was probably why they could all eat the freshly baked baguettes and mountains of profiteroles and stay slim. While I walked my fair share back home, it was usually around the lake wearing comfortable attire and hiking boots. I didn’t know how women coped walking or cycling from one end of the huge city wearing in heels.

  Ever observant Sebastien noticed my wobbly gait and said, ‘We should catch a taxi.’

  ‘A taxi would be great.’ So much for being French, I couldn’t last twenty minutes in heels where Parisian women could probably hitch up their skirts and run a marathon in them.

  We were silent in the car. I was unsure, being alone with him what to say, even small talk didn’t come easily, so instead I leaned close to the window, taking in the sights of the beautiful city at night-time. His phone rang incessantly, and he cursed under his breath and switched it off.