The Little Perfume Shop Off the Champs-Élysées

by Rebecca Raisin

  The end of the day! I’d banked on another week in Paris at least. It was too soon. As with the other contestants, as soon as they were eliminated they were helped to pack their rooms, and driven straight to the airport and placed on the next flight. Despair sat heavy in my belly. What was the rush?

  ‘Whoa,’ Lex said. ‘You’re not mucking around, are you?’

  Sebastien gave him the ghost of a smile. ‘We don’t want to delay.’

  Was he ready to do that and pack up and leave after? Head for the lavender scented hills of Provence?

  Lex coughed and dropped his gaze, ‘Well, I’ll be moving out of the apartment, but I intend on staying in Paris…’

  I feigned innocence. ‘You’re staying in Paris, Lex? Any reason?’ I widened my eyes, and stared at him, hoping he’d admit it.

  ‘Nope, just haven’t seen enough of Paris yet.’

  ‘Really?’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘I think there’s more to it.’

  He pulled a face. ‘All right, America, leave me be. You…you perfume whisperer.’

  ‘I like that,’ I said, grinning. ‘Del Jameson, Perfume Whisperer.’

  Sebastien smiled and said, ‘Don’t do too much today, save your energy for tomorrow, won’t you?’

  Save our energy! Would we be running all over Paris again? My feet hadn’t quite got over that first day of punishment.

  We broke away, and I promised to catch up with Lex and Lila later. But first we had to pack up our rooms and make sure we were ready to leave the next day. Whoever won the competition would move into a suite of rooms on the top floor in the Leclére apartment and stay on to design a perfume collection for them.

  After I packed and tidied the room, I sat at the end of the bed and blew out a breath. Emotions hit me hard and fast. Loneliness, reluctance, worry, excitement. I thought about the other contestants and their stories, how far we’d all come. Lila desperately needed the prize money to stay in Paris, or she’d go back to a life dominated by her family. Lex would probably make a name for himself in perfumery at fifty-five years of age, finally following his passion, and hopefully he’d find a little romance along the way.

  But where did I stand now? The more time I spent in Paris the hazier my New York dream became. Could I survive without a plan? Probably not. I wasn’t the airy fairy type unless I was making perfume. I needed to know where I’d be in five years, otherwise how would I know I was on the right path?

  I called Jen and hoped she’d answer despite the ungodly hour it would be over there for her. With a yawn she answered, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Sorry to wake you.’

  ‘You OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sort of means no, what is it?’

  ‘I got to the grand finale…’

  ‘WHAT!’ she shrieked. ‘Oh my god, Del! You made it to the grand finale! I knew you would, I knew you had it in you!’

  ‘Yeah, I know, it’s totally amazing, but I’m having trouble envisaging my future now. What do I want? Things have changed and I have changed…’

  ‘Aw, Del, you make things so tough for yourself. Can’t you just wait and see? Spend the rest of the summer in Paris, whether you win or lose?’

  I exhaled the worry. ‘I guess, but what would be the point?’

  ‘To test yourself. Remember you were supposed to jump out of that comfort zone, and as far as I can see, you’ve jumped right back into it. New York was a great ambition but like you said things have changed, so maybe it’s not the right time. Maybe in five years when your name is synonymous with perfume, maybe that will be the time to head to New York and open up a boutique on Fifth Avenue itself, not down some dark little alleyway that you would struggle to afford now.’

  ‘Hmm, yes, yes, I see your point, but I’ll feel anchorless, won’t I, without a plan? What if I suddenly spend all day sleeping in and I only eat chocolate, and watch movies with subtitles and become lazy…’

  ‘Then I’d say you’re having the time of your life. One summer isn’t going to rule your future. Promise me you’ll stay there and let a new plan come to your organically.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’ Maybe not.

  ‘And Seb, what’s happening with him?’

  ‘Zero.’

  ‘And you’re happy with that?’

  ‘Well, not exactly.’ I didn’t want to worry about him, not now, especially with the grand finale looming. ‘Forget about that for a minute, what about the competition? If I win, then Lila won’t get the money and won’t get to live her dreams.’

  ‘Oh, Del, I should’ve known this would happen. It’s a competition! You deserve to win just as much as she does! What about your dreams?’

  I sighed. ‘I guess…’

  She made her voice soft. ‘Del, just win the competition, OK? Win it for Nan, win it for your future, win it because you love perfume and you deserve it.’

  I took a deep breath and did what sisters do best, I changed the subject. ‘So, how’s James? The wedding plans?’

  ‘Urgh,’ she said. ‘I think we might have to elope. Mom is talking about some kind of river goddess wedding, whatever the hell that means, and Dad wants to officiate…’ And on she went about our cuckoo family.

  After our saying goodbyes I stared at Clementine’s side of the room for a while. It was so peaceful without her but sort of lonely too.

  I changed for lunch and a last long linger around Paris with Lex and Lila.

  Chapter Thirty

  I was ready, and had accepted my fate. The grand finale was imminent and we waited impatiently for Aurelie and Sebastien to appear in the lab and give us instructions. Lila was busy sending up prayers and Lex was here for support and sat in the window box, knees folded, reflecting silently as he stared out of the window. I jiggled my knees up and down, and toyed with my bracelets, the ones Clementine found so infuriatingly loud, which was ironic coming from her.

  When they finally appeared, we froze.

  ‘And so then there were two,’ Sebastien said, dazzling us with his shiny white teeth. We assembled in front of him, hands behind backs, ready to begin. ‘As perfumers you rely on your olfactory sense, so what better way to test you than on your “nose”, your gift, and the reason you’re here.’

  That didn’t sound too bad? There must be a catch.

  ‘Soon our staff will bring in a variety of ingredients used in perfumery, from the exotic to the ordinary. It’s up to you which you choose. Whoever names the ingredient wrong first, is eliminated. Sounds easy, non?’

  Yes, way too easy! We’d know on sight what most of them were. I held my tongue.

  ‘To make it a little harder, each ingredient will be hidden under a cloche and you’ll be blindfolded.’

  ‘Ahh,’ I said. We’d have to rely on smell alone. ‘So, can I clarify, whoever gets the guess wrong is out? Just like that?’ We had no time, nothing to fall back on.

  ‘Correct. And in keeping things fair, to see who goes first you’ll draw straws. Whoever has the shortest straw will pick the first cloche, and so on.’

  Lila and I exchanged so-be-it glances.

  ‘Ready?’ Sebastien said.

  ‘Yes,’ we murmured back. My pulse raced, and my palms grew sweaty. It could all be over in minutes!

  Aurelie helped us draw straws and I chose the shortest, so I was up first. Risky.

  Sebastien blindfolded me and I might have had one teeny tiny moment of pure fantasy about that but it was soon replaced by cold, hard fear.

  He led me to the bench. ‘Which number would you like, Del?’

  ‘Cloche ten,’ I said.

  He lifted the cloche and I knew at once what it was. Still, I groped for the ingredient, and picked it up, smelling it, feeling it to make certain. ‘Tiger Lily.’

  ‘Oui, very good.’

  Next was Lila. ‘Lavender.’

  ‘Oui.’

  My turn again. I chose a number and Sebastien lifted the cloche. Easy. ‘Orange.’

  ‘Oui,’ said Sebastien. ‘Lila
’s guess again.’

  Lila mumbled to herself nervously as she approached the bench. ‘Oh, my gosh,’ she said. ‘That is horrible. And it’s dimethyl sulfide.’

  Dimethyl sulfide was a chemical used in some perfumes, it smelled of sulfur and onions and was noxious in its natural form, not blended.

  My turn again, and I knew it at once. ‘Phenols,’ I said, it was overpowering like cleaning liquid.

  ‘Oui.’

  Lila’s turn again. I held my breath, worried for her. It was pot luck what was under the cloches. She took an age to answer, but then said triumphantly, ‘Is it gunpowder?’

  Sebastien laughed. ‘It is, and it has been used by big name perfumers before.’

  The mind boggled. If consumers knew half the ingredients that went into perfumes their heads would explode. These days most of the ingredients were replicated synthetically, but not so long ago lots of seemingly disgusting ingredients were used to build and balance perfume. Once the perfume was blended those strong substances weren’t detectable any longer, in their odiferous form. The bad balanced the good and made the perfect blend.

  It was my turn and I sensed that it was going to get more difficult from here on out.

  Sebastien led me to the bench for the last time and lifted the cloche. I paused for a few seconds knowing this would alter the course of my life. It was agarwood.

  ‘Guaiacwood,’ I said, and waited, hoping to god I’d done the right thing. I had followed my heart and not my head.

  The room was silent bar the faint pounding of my heart. Could they hear it?

  ‘I’m sorry, Del,’ Sebastien said. ‘It’s agarwood.’ His voice was thick with disappointment.

  I made a show of being shocked.

  ‘We have our winner, Lila.’

  Lila shrieked and bawled at the same time and Lex grabbed her in a big bear hug and swung her around. When he finally deposited her on the ground I rushed in to give her a squeeze.

  ‘Congratulations, Lila! You clever girl!’

  ‘I can’t believe it, Del! This will change my life, the entire course of my life! But I am so sorry!’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Lila! You won fair and square.’ I hid a grin, and knew I’d made the right choice.

  ***

  Our bags were assembled in a tiny line of two. Lex was moving into an apartment in the upper Marais, and I was waiting for Jean Marc to drive me to Charles De Gaulle airport. There’d been much celebrating with Lila, Lex and the Lecléres and it was all I could do to keep the tears at bay.

  I’d been part of something so extraordinary, so special, that I’d never forget it. A foray into the private world of the reclusive Lecléres and a magical perfumery journey that would see me in good stead going forward.

  What it meant for my own perfumery was endless. What I’d experienced in Paris couldn’t be replicated, it would stay with me forever. But there was one last thing I needed to do.

  ‘Aurelie,’ I said, finding her in the office. ‘Will you call me if Jean Marc arrives? I have to…’

  She smiled, the smile of a woman who wanted to love again, and I wondered if Lex had said anything to her yet. If the candy floss joie de vivre I suddenly sensed had anything to do with it, then I’d say he had, and they’d both only held back for the sake of the competition.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, in her charming French way. ‘Take your time.’

  I nodded and went on foot to the place it began.

  Point Zero.

  The wishing place. I stared down at the innocuous little plaque in the ground and had a quick look around me before I stepped in the center of it. Feeling crazy, but owning it for once, I lifted one foot, laughed and with closed eyes spun around three times, wishing for true love to find me.

  Please if it’s real, give me a sign, I offered up silently to the wishing gods.

  I opened my eyes, and found only the curious stares of onlookers. Well, really what had I expected? A homing pigeon to fly in with a message? I turned on my heel, ready to escape the gathering crowd and ran, smack bang into a broad chest. ‘Sorry, I’m a little…’

  ‘What did you wish for?’ he said huskily.

  ‘You.’ Heat rushed to my cheeks. ‘I mean…’

  ‘Here I am,’ he said, and dropped his lips on mine. I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me, only mildly aware that the crowd had begun to clap.

  ‘I didn’t think it would work quite so fast,’ I said breathlessly as I stared into his luminous green eyes.

  ‘Your wish is my command.’ He grinned and took my hand. People jostled nearby, lining up to stand on Point Zero, astounded that it truly had seemed like a miracle at work. Who was I to ruin their fun?

  We laughed and moved away, giving them room.

  ‘I know you forfeited the competition on purpose,’ he said.

  ‘You knew?’ Hadn’t I been convincing with my downcast face, and glassy-eyed stare?

  ‘Oui. Why did you do it?’

  ‘It felt like the right thing to do.’

  ‘Stay, Del. Stay in Paris.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want you to.’

  I’d told the guy I loved him in three different languages, hadn’t I? Did it mean I was giving up my dreams, or making new ones? ‘I made you this.’ I took a small bottle of perfume from my bag.

  He laughed. ‘And I made you this,’ and took a small pink vial from his pocket.

  We uncapped our bottles and wafted them under our noses. The perfume he’d created for me was explosive like fireworks, and French kisses, love under the moonlight. The sweet rapture of release. It was his promise that he was ready to step from the shadows of grief and to love.

  Sebastien spoke first. ‘It’s a bundle of love letters, a rose before it blooms, still warm linen, the sun as it crests the earth, and an invitation to your heart?’

  We were so in tune, it couldn’t be wrong.

  And for once in my life I was going to follow my heart, just like Lila desperately needed to do, and now she’d have the money to do so.

  ‘Will you stay?’ he asked once more.

  ‘Well, Paris is the perfume capital of the world.’

  ‘I have something of yours.’ From his pocket he took my scarf, that errant scarf from the very first day, but now it smelled like hopes and dreams.

  ‘You kept it?’

  ‘I fell in love you with at that very moment…’

  It was always meant to be. It was written in the stars, in the sky, in the shape of a perfume bottle. In the scent I held in my hand.

  We fell into each other’s arms and I wished for time to stop so I could stay there forever. True love always finds a way…

  We lost our best friend right around the time I got Little Perfume back for the final read. It struck me how relevant the words I’d written were to how I was suddenly feeling. Grief plays a big part of this story, and I hope I managed to convey the sentiment that while those we love might not be here in body, they’re always around. They are there as the sun sinks burnishing the sky amber. They’re the smell of ozone after rain. They’re in our dreams and there when we first wake. They are the reason we take chances. Their passing makes us brave and bold and helps us remember to live in the moment. And most of all to love, because without love there is nothing.

  This book is for you, Jeff. Thanks for the love you gave to our family.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for shutting out the real world and diving into the land of fiction for a while. I hope you journeyed far and wide and had an incredible adventure from the comfort of your own home.

  Without you I wouldn’t be able to spend my days talking to my invisible friends who become so real to me I name drop in conversation to my family who all think I’m a little batty at the best of times . . . so thanks again!

  My sincerest hope is that you connected with my characters and laughed and cried and cheered them on (even the baddies who I hope redeemed themselves in the end) and that
they also became your friends too.

  I’d love to connect with you! Find me on Facebook @RebeccaRaisinAuthor or on Twitter @Jaxandwillsmum. I’m a bibliophile from way back so you’ll find me chatting about books and romance but I’m also obsessed with travel, wine and food!

  Reviews are worth their weight in gold to authors so if the book touched you and left you feeling ’happy ever after’ please consider sharing your thoughts and I’ll send you cyber hugs in return!

  Follow my publisher @HQDigitalUK for book news, giveaways, and lots of FriYAY fun!

  Love,

  Rebecca x

  If you loved The Little Perfume Shop Off The Champs-Élysées, then read on for an excerpt from Secrets at Maple Syrup Farm…

  Chapter One

  With the beeps, drips, and drones, it was hard to hear Mom, as she waxed lyrical about my painting. Her voice was weaker today, and her breathing labored, but none of that took away from the incandescence in her deep blue eyes.

  Wistfully she said, ‘Lucy, you have a real gift, do you know that?’ She patted the white knitted hospital blanket. ‘Look at that sunset, it’s like I’m right there, stepping into the world you’ve created.’

  I sat gently on the edge of the bed, doing my best to avoid the wires that connected my mom to the machine. These days her hair hung lank—the wild riot of her strawberry-blonde curls tamed by so many days indoors, head resting on a pillow. I tucked an escaped tendril back, and made a mental note to help her wash it later.

  ‘You’re biased. You have to say that,’ I said, keeping my voice light. Beside her, I cast a critical eye over the piece. All I could find was fault. The sun was too big, the sky not quite the right hue, and the birds with their wings spread wide seemed comical, like something a kindergartner would do. When it came to my art, I still had a way to go before I felt confident. Mom was the only person I showed my work to these days.

  ‘Hush,’ she said. ‘I could stare at this all day. If I close my eyes I feel the heat from the sun, the wind in my hair…’