I finish eating and head back to my room, where I dial Keith’s mobile number on Skype from my laptop. I’m thinking it’s also quite sad that he won’t even think it’s unusual I’m phoning on a weekend, because we often text and call each other about work related stuff on our days off. Which reminds me, I forgot to check if he emailed me yesterday like he said he was going to.
It’s just after 1pm back in Australia, so hopefully I’m not interrupting a family lunch or anything.
“Hello? Is that you, Chloe?”
“Hi, Keith.”
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I expected I’d be the first one to call you, not the other way around. But while I have you there…”
“Uh, sorry, Keith. I’m not calling for a work-related matter. I was out last night and someone pickpocketed me. My handbag was cut, so I lost everything—my passport, my money, my cards, my phone…”
“Oh. Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I was a little shaken at the time, but I’m alright this morning.”
“Good, good. Your bag was cut, you say? It’s lucky they didn’t cut you in the process.”
God, I didn’t even think of that. I could have ended up with a stab wound on my first night in Bangkok. I suppose I am lucky in a way.
“Yeah, very lucky. Anyway, I hate to ask this of you, but do you think it would be possible to authorise me a salary advance and wire the money over today? I know it’s a Sunday and everything, but I’m a bit desperate.”
“Right. Of course. You’ll be needing money. Hang on a minute…” I hear clicking noises in the background, like he’s on his laptop.
It’s quite strange, but Keith can have little moments of lucidity. Obviously, he’d have to—otherwise how would he run a moderately successful business? But you wouldn’t know it from the way he gets me to do everything for him. Sometimes I like to think that he’s just busy, not actually incompetent. He knows how, but just doesn’t have time to think about things like calling a cab or rescheduling a meeting. It’s much easier for me to wait on the line, or send the email. At least that’s the theory that keeps me sane and not questioning why I continue to work for the guy. Of course, it doesn’t really account for things like the time I accidentally saw him googling whether it was safe to swallow chewing gum, or the fact that he often confuses Nigerian email scams for legitimate business opportunities.
“I’m just looking up your nearest Western Union office. How much cash do you need?”
“Uh, actually, I have no idea.”
“How about five hundred?”
“Perfect. I’m sure that will be enough for now. All our accommodation is paid for, so I should only need money for food and sightseeing.”
One thing I don’t want to think about right now is what will happen if I can’t get a replacement passport before we’re supposed to leave Bangkok. And if I can’t, what I’ll do if Mia doesn’t want to hang around for an extra couple of days.
“Is Khaosan Road near you?” Keith asks.
I grimace. “Sort of. Why?”
“That seems to be one of the only Western Union branches open on a Sunday. Do you think you can make it there?”
I figure I’ll just ask the hotel if they have a minibus to take me there, or book a cab for me that I can add to my room bill. There might be a surcharge as Daniel suggested, but I don’t really have much choice if my sister doesn’t return soon.
“Yes.”
“Alright. That’s done. I assume you still have your laptop?”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m calling from.”
“Great. I’ll email you all the confirmation details.”
“Thank you, Keith. I owe you one.”
“Well, now that you mention it, in return for my kindness, you can look over the other stuff I’m about to send through in addition to my email yesterday.”
“What other stuff?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet, but the temp sent it to me. I trust you’ll know what it all means.”
I knew this would happen. I’ve been in Thailand for a day. One single day!
“OK, Keith,” I sigh. “Will do.”
“Excellent. And so how do I reach you without your phone? Should I just call you on Skype?”
“Just email me for now. I’ll let you know when I have a new contact number. Thanks again!”
I hang up before he can say anything else. I don’t want him guilting me into agreeing to daily check-ins for the next two weeks. Asking for money definitely wasn’t a good move in terms of our power balance. Gah! How am I supposed to enjoy this holiday if I’m thinking about work every five minutes?
I don’t have a printer, so I head back downstairs to the hotel’s business centre to print out the details Keith sent me. I also print out copies of my driver’s licence and passport. I’m so glad I remembered to scan them and email them to myself before I left. I then begin the process of cancelling my passport online. I’ll still need to go into the consulate to get a new one, so I check their opening hours. Daniel was right. They are closed until Thursday. I wonder if Mia would be receptive to a slight change of plans.
I ignore the other emails Keith has sent through for now. They can wait until at least tomorrow. I’m not working on a weekend day on my holiday.
I’m feeling too antsy to just sit around and wait for Mia to come back, so I ask the hotel to book me a cab and then head outside.
I’m going back to the scene of the crime.
***
Collecting the money is easy. Khaosan Road looks completely different during the day. At this time of morning, it’s almost deserted, and a lot of the markets are gone. After leaving the Western Union, I go to a convenience store and buy a bottle of water and a pre-paid mobile phone. It takes a small chunk out of my wire money, and while I would love to be uncontactable for the next few weeks, it wouldn’t be a smart move career-wise. Plus, I’m assuming I will need a number for when I order a replacement passport and for any other official stuff while I’m here.
After switching it on, I send Mia another Facebook message, telling her my new number and asking her again to check in when she gets a chance.
I’m not sure what to do now. I could go sightseeing on my own, but I don’t want Mia getting mad if I do something without her that she wanted to do—especially because today is her birthday. I’m also not sure I would have much fun on my own. To be honest, I’m still a tiny bit shaken after last night and I don’t feel as if I would be strong enough to resist a pushy tour operator or any other unforeseen circumstance.
Only because it’s nearby, I start thinking about the perfumery. I said I was going to repay Daniel, and it’s obviously on the way back to the hotel, so I should probably keep my word.
I catch another tuk-tuk over to the perfumery. I wonder if it’s too early for it to be open, seeing as Daniel was up so late last night, and it’s a Sunday. But when I arrive, the door is open. I hesitate before entering. Is he going to think I’m strange for coming back so soon?
I take a deep breath and head inside. The overpowering smell of perfume assaults my nostrils again. It evokes a weird set of emotions, all of them triggering butterflies in my stomach. I figure it must be the association with being robbed last night.
The shop is empty, but I hear voices out the back.
Arguing voices.
One is a woman, shrieking in Thai. The other is Daniel’s warm Scottish tone, and it sounds quite reasonable. He’s speaking in Thai though, so I have no idea what he’s saying.
I don’t know what to do. Should I just leave them to it? Put my money on the counter with a note and explain I dropped by?
The woman’s voice sounds as if it’s reaching a crescendo. I feel like the glass in the windows could explode at any second. I quickly go over to the counter and hunt around for a piece of paper. I think leaving a note and getting out of here would be best for everyone.
Found it! There’s a small notepad and pen beside the cash register.
I lean over…
“What are you doing?”
It’s the voice I’d just heard arguing with Daniel. I spin around. A short, stocky Thai woman is staring at me.
“I…uh…was going to leave a note for Daniel…” I trail off.
“You weren’t trying to get into the cash register?” she asks, eyes narrowed.
“No!” My hands fly up in surrender. “Of course not!”
“Eh, what do I care? I’m outta here anyway. Steal away, lady.” She stalks out of the shop and I stand there, stunned.
Daniel appears in the doorway between the shop and the back room.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t hear anyone come in.”
“Sorry, I, um, I should probably go.” I press down a couple of bills on the counter. “I just wanted to repay you for last night. I got some money sent from home and I was in the area…”
He smiles. “I told you that you didn’t have to repay me. But thank you.”
“Well, it turns out that not all Western Unions are open on Sunday, so I went to the one on Khaosan Road,” I say, aware that I’m trying too hard to justify my visit.
“Ah. So were you able to fill out a report with the police back at your hotel?”
“Yes. Thank you for suggesting I do that. If nothing else, it will give me the information I need to do an insurance claim.”
“Good.”
He seems unsettled and rubs his hands across his face. And then he looks at me as if he’s debating whether to ask something. I want to fill the awkward silence, but I’m not sure what to say.
After a lengthy pause he finally speaks. “I suppose you heard my argument with Phroi just now.”
“Oh. Uh, sort of. I only arrived a moment ago, and I don’t understand Thai, so I didn’t really know what was going on.”
“She was one of my employees until a couple of minutes ago,” he confides.
“That’s a shame.”
“Yes, it is. I’m not even sure what happened. One minute everything was fine, and the next she was yelling at me, saying I was a terrible boss and she couldn’t take it anymore.”
I frown in sympathy. Obviously I haven’t known Daniel very long, but somehow I doubt he’d be difficult to work for. And I am quite pleased that he seems comfortable enough with me to discuss what must be a distressing situation.
“That does sound a bit strange,” I agree. “So she didn’t explain why she felt like that?”
“No. It was all very odd. Anyway, sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems.”
“I don’t mind at all. Besides, I burdened you with mine last night. But I guess you need to be getting back to work so you can finish off that order?”
“Oh, yes. I do.” He pauses. “Do…” He starts to say something and then stops. And then he does it again. “Do you…”
“Is everything OK?” I prompt.
“I don’t suppose you have a few spare hours this morning, do you?”
I blink. “For what?”
“To help me get all the samples ready for the order.”
“But I don’t have any experience.”
“You don’t need to know how to make perfume. I’ll be putting the samples together. You can help me package them up and be my assistant. I was relying on Phroi, so her quitting has kind of left me in the lurch. The perfumery isn’t normally open on Sundays, otherwise I’d ask one of the other staff.”
“Um, sure.” I figure that as long as I have my phone nearby, I’ll be able to hear it if Mia sends me a message through Facebook. Plus, I can still try contacting her every now and again.
He then shakes his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be hijacking your holiday. You go. Have some fun. Enjoy Bangkok.”
“No, no. I didn’t have any plans this morning, and it seems my sister has abandoned me, so I’d be happy to help. It’s the least I can do, seeing as you saved me last night.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel obligated because I let you use my computer.”
“You lent me money too. But I don’t feel obligated. It will be fun. I’ve never been to a perfumery before.”
His shoulders drop, as if any tension he was feeling has now gone. “Well, in that case, why don’t I show you around?”
“Lead the way.”
He ushers me out the back, through the room we were in last night, and into the lab. It has a very sterile feel, with rows of aluminium canisters piled up to the ceiling on every wall.
“This is where most of the materials are stored.” He picks up a white lab coat hanging near the door. “Here you go. You’re one of us for now.”
I take it, beaming. I like how that sounds.
SIX
Daniel puts on his own coat, which I can’t help noticing makes him look even more attractive than before. Apparently I have harboured an up-until-now undiagnosed scientist fantasy. I make a mental note of this for later, when I can ask Aaron to help me explore this concept further, and then re-focus on what Daniel is saying. He gives me a quick lesson on where everything is located and what it’s used for.
“Over here, we have the mixing jars.” He points to a box filled with tiny plastic containers, not much wider than my thumb. “And there are the toothpicks we use for stirring, and those are the smelling strips.” The smelling strips are narrow pieces of cardboard.
“Everything is so small!”
“Well, you don’t really need a big container for mixing, because we’re only working with the concentrate. The bulk of the perfume is the solvent.” He nods his head to a whole section of wall dedicated to identical looking canisters.
“So you put the concentrate in a bottle with the solvent when you’re done?”
“That’s right.” He then traces a finger through the air over the other canisters. “Everything else is grouped in order of the family they belong to, and then in alphabetical order. Each family represents a letter of the alphabet too.”
I pick up one of the canisters and read the label. Benzaldehyde.
“So what does benzaldehyde belong to?”
“It’s a bitter almond or cherry scent, so it belongs in the F or Fruit section.”
“Oh. Cool.” I pick up another one from a different area. “And dimethyl sulfide?”
“It’s in the E for Edible section because it smells like popcorn.”
“You make it seem pretty easy. Is that all there is to it? Take a bit of cherry, a bit of popcorn and maybe mix it with…” I grab another random canister, undo the lid and inhale, and do it back up, glancing at the label. “…phenyl ethyl phenyl acetate to add a sort of honey rose scent and then you’re done?”
He laughs. “Pretty much. And well done for classifying that last one. That’s exactly what I would have said.”
“So why doesn’t everyone make their own perfume?”
“I don’t know. I guess you need a bit of training to learn all the different aroma chemical names and how they work together.” He quickly picks up one of the mixing jars and puts it in front of him. He then retrieves a plastic box from under the counter and pulls out four small bottles with dropper tops on them. “These are some compounds I made earlier. They represent vanilla, dairy, fruit and spice. When you make up this combination…” I try to pay attention to how many drops he uses of each but lose count. “…you get this.” He stirs the mixture with a toothpick and then dips a smelling strip in and hands it to me.
“Banana!”
“Right. But if you change it just a little…” He makes a new one that looks identical and then gives me another smelling strip.
“This reminds me of egg nog!”
“Exactly.”
“So, I’m guessing there’s a bit more to perfumery than you’re letting on.”
“I suppose everything requires practice to get really good at it, but it depends. Some people are naturally talented, but if you’re working with my compounds, you’d be surprised at how easy it is to make your own fragrance.”
“I still think you’r
e underselling yourself, but thank you for explaining this all to me. Especially when I assume you’re on a deadline?”
He looks at his watch. “Ah, that’s right. Sorry, I can get a bit carried away sometimes. Well, at least you’ve had a basic introduction. I’ll try and fill you in on the rest as we go.”
He pushes the banana and egg nog jars aside and then bends down to pick up another plastic box from under the counter. “These are the samples I’ve been working on for a client. You can usually get a good idea of how a fragrance will smell as soon as you’ve made it, but you have to give it time to settle before you really discover what the final result will be.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“For now, maybe you can put away the bottles we were just working with and then familiarise yourself with the location of the different aroma chemicals.”
“Easy.”
I busy myself studying all the canisters and occasionally opening one to see what it smells like. Some are lovely, like the ones that smell like jasmine or musk. Others make me gag, smelling like barn animals or tobacco. Daniel explains that tobacco is quite popular in men’s cologne. And the animal smell, when used in small quantities can actually make a perfume smell sexy.
“Have you ever seen the Issey Miyake fragrance at a department store?” he asks.
“Yes, my sister bought it once. I quite liked it.”
“Well, it contains that faecal, animal scent.”
Faecal? “You mean from actual animals?”
“No, no. Just synthetic versions.”
“Oh. Right. Good.”
“Do you wear much fragrance?”
“Just the one, but I’m not sure you would have heard of it. It’s this obscure perfume from a little boutique in Sydney called Summer Rain. I forgot to bring it with me on holiday, but it’s my favourite.”
He gives me a disbelieving look. “You’re kidding me.”
I wrinkle my brow. “No. Why?”
He keeps staring at me, mouth agape.
Perfume Therapy Page 5