The Summer House of Happiness: A delightfully feel-good romantic comedy perfect for holiday!. Daisy James

commercial suicide to replicate something that already forms part of our range. Please remove this from my presence! Next!’

      Heat flooded Jean-Pierre’s cheeks as he grabbed the glass phial and ran from the room to nurse his shattered dreams. The third perfume belonged to Fleurette. By this time, Gabbie felt as though her chest had been invaded by a gang of marauding monkeys and she struggled to control a sudden bout of trembling.

      ‘Mmm, this one is interesting… very interesting. Humour me. Did I ask for snow-topped mountains and cosy log cabins as the inspiration for our summer fragrance? Anyone? Non! Do any of my employees actually listen to me? Eh?’

      Monsieur Gasnier threw up his hands before eyeing the final glass tube with disdain. Gabbie tried to quash her rampaging emotions but found her throat was dry and constricted. Her breathing had become shallow and she began to feel lightheaded, as if she was about to spontaneously combust. She watched him lift her precious fragrance to his nose – the nose she knew was insured for over two million euros – before closing his eyes and puckering his lips in avid contemplation.

      ‘Who is the creator of this parfum?’

      ‘I am, Monsieur.’

      ‘Fetch me a bottle of frangipani oil!’

      Gabbie stared at her boss, shocked at his abrupt tone of voice and the way he tapped his foot impatiently on the marble floor, palm outstretched as he rolled his eyes at the time she was taking to respond to his order.

      ‘Go on! What are you waiting for? Chip chip!’

      Fortunately, Marianne defused the burgeoning tension by handed Jules Gasnier the oil he had demanded and the three women stood silently, watching as he added two drops of the precious liquid to Gabbie’s phial, then inhaled a second time.

      ‘Ahh, l’arme d’été. C’est presque parfait!’

      Gabbie’s stomach performed a somersault of excitement. Was this her chance? Would she now be permitted to introduce her summer fragrance to House of Gasnier’s customers, to reconnect with the people she made her perfumes for, to reignite the passion that had been waning over the last few months while she had been confined to the lab? She managed to find her voice but when she spoke it was as though someone else was talking. ‘Merci, Monsieur Gasnier, I…’

      ‘I said almost perfect. There is still a great deal of work to be done before this parfum can take its place alongside its peers. However, I am prepared to allow you the opportunity to work on its enhancement, mademoiselle. You will present yourself at nine a.m. on Monday morning at our headquarters on Rue de Rivoli.’

      ‘Rue de Rivoli? In Paris?’

      ‘Oui, à Paris!’ Monsieur Gasnier tutted and rolled his eyes at Marianne. ‘I anticipate your relocation will be for an initial period of three months, during which time you will be working in our on-site laboratory as part of our award-winning perfume development team.’

      Gabbie knew she should be feeling euphoric. Jules Gasnier had chosen her perfume for the summer collection! Wasn’t that what she had wanted? Why she had temporarily crammed her most fervent wish to spend more time with their customers into the box labelled ‘To be dealt with later’? She could see the delight written across Marianne’s face, and the broad, excited smile on Fleurette’s lips needed no translation, but she shared neither of those emotions.

      ‘I must warn you, however, that your focus on this project must be absolute; there will be no time for the frolics I have no doubt you and your friends enjoy down here on the C

te d’Azur!’

      ‘Will I have the opportunity to work with any of House of Gasnier’s Parisian customers? To gather feedback as the perfume is developed?’

      Jules Gasnier looked scandalised at the audacity of her question. ‘Non, you will not! We have a separate team who will carry out this task. Your skills will be required solely in the laboratory.’

      The conflicted feelings that had been brewing since Gabbie woke that morning rushed to the surface and something inside her snapped. While she loved creating perfumes, much more important to her was interacting with the customers she created the fragrances for; taking the time to understand their hopes, their dreams, their innermost desires, so she could blend the perfect combination of aromas that would lift their spirits, just as she had done for her mother during the most difficult period of her life. How could she continue to conjure up amazing fragrances for House of Gasnier if she was constantly denied contact with the very people who would be enjoying her creations?

      She sensed she stood at a crossroads, peering into a future that held differing options. She had no idea what to do and a helix of panic began to curl through her abdomen. She glanced at Marianne and suddenly knew the question she needed to ask herself.

      What would her mother have done if she were standing in front of Jules Gasnier, the man who was glaring at her with such patent dislike? She didn’t have to try very hard to come up with the answer and immediately a sense of calm suffused her whole body. If staying at House of Gasnier meant she had to ditch her long-held dreams as well as risk losing her passion for something she had loved since she was a child, something that was as much a part of her as breathing, then it was too high a price to pay.

      ‘Thank you for your offer, Monsieur Gasnier, but no thanks.’

      ‘No thanks?’ spluttered Jules Gasnier, his eyes bulging from their sockets in disbelief and his expression darkening with repressed anger. ‘No thanks? No one in the history of House of Gasnier has ever rejected such a prize! I will not permit it! If you do not accept this position, I will fire you!’

      ‘No need. I quit!’

Chapter Two

      No one spoke, everyone just stood motionless, jaws slackened in surprise, waiting for the verbal fireworks Jules Gasnier was famous for to erupt. Gabbie tried to leave the room but her feet felt like they were encased in concrete and refused to obey what her brain was desperately trying to tell them to do. She held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity and saw his surprise morph into fury and finally display a sprinkling of malice. While she knew she should get out of the firing line as quickly as possible, she couldn’t ignore her mother’s voice reverberating in her ears, telling her to stand her ground, to explain the reasons for her decision.

      ‘Monsieur…’

      ‘Get out! Get out of my sight, mademoiselle. You will not remain at House of Gasnier for one moment longer!’ he snarled, clearly taking her impromptu resignation as a personal insult and not in the slightest bit interested in hearing her explanation. ‘Did you hear me? Out! Now!’

      This time, Gabbie’s feet responded immediately and, with a swift glance in the direction of a very shocked Marianne, she strode from the room, a sensation of lightness, of freedom, rushing through her veins, a thrill of elation settling in her chest. For a brief moment she felt the presence of her mother, smiling at her side, congratulating her on her decision to pursue what made her happy – creating bespoke aromas for real people. She had the training, she had the contacts, but she also had something she had come within a whisker’s breadth of losing – her passion for perfume!

      She paused briefly at the end of the pristine white marble corridor to catch her breath and the dulcet tones of Jules Gasnier floated to her ears.

       ‘Marianne, please ensure that imbécile does not show her face here again! She is finished in this industry – I will make sure of that. Nobody quits House of Gasnier!’

      Gabbie’s mood swiftly plunged from the heights of euphoria to the lows of panic. What on earth was she thinking? She had no pot of gold with which to purchase the essential oils needed to start such a business. And without her salary, how was she going to pay for her half of the rent on the little attic studio she shared