The Little Perfume Shop Off The Champs-Élysées. Rebecca Raisin

meet this motley group then,’ I said, smiling and shrugging off the cloak of memory so it didn’t bring me down.

       Chapter 5

      We arrived at the Lecléres and were shown to an enormous and elegant dining room by an elderly man in a suit that fit much better than Lex’s did. The chatter stopped immediately and all eyes landed on us like laser beams. Some gave us slow onceovers, others cocked heads and smiled, a few narrowed their eyes summing us up with one long stare. Contestants and the Leclére management team mingled as I tried to put faces to names from our various video calls.

      A trio broke from their circle and came over to introduce themselves. Someone handed me some champagne which I guzzled to settle my nerves. My roommate sauntered over, a faux fur stole over her shoulders despite the warm weather.

      ‘Clementine,’ I said, relieved to see a familiar face. ‘This is Lex. Lex, this is my roommate, Clem.’

      Introductions were made and more bubbles quaffed. Clementine barely let anyone get a word in, so most of us slowly edged away from her, clustering in couples making polite if not stilted conversation. Kathryn called me over and I excused myself from Lex.

      ‘So where is Sebastien, then?’ she asked, casting her eye around the room.

      I surveyed the men present and recalled their faces from innumerable video chats, so none of them were the great man himself. He’d be tall, and wiry, and have intense eyes that darted about. Or would he be more masculine and suave, letting his famous name carry him?

      ‘I don’t think he’s here or surely he’d have introduced himself,’ I said with a sigh. No wonder no one could snap a picture of him, he never turned up. ‘Is he even real?’

      ‘Makes you wonder,’ Kathryn said. ‘Aurelie’s not here either. Some welcome party.’ She toyed with her napkin. ‘It’s all a little strange, this whole competition. Why would they suddenly open their doors to strangers, when they’ve been so reclusive?’

      I’d asked myself the same question too. ‘And now they’re not here. Do you think they’re regretting it?’

      She frowned. ‘I hope not.’

      ‘They’re probably running fashionably late to make a grand entrance once we’ve all broken the ice and got to know each other a bit.’

      ‘You’re probably right,’ she said. ‘I suppose we should mingle then.’

      Normally I’d hang back and let people come to me, that small town reserve always just below the surface, but no one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted. So I made the effort to approach a tall girl who scrolled mindlessly on her phone. I’d done the same thing myself to look busy when I felt like the odd one out, so I introduced myself, only to have her nod as if dismissing me on sight. So much for feeling emboldened.

      ‘And you are …?’ I pressed on, not ready to give up, on pride alone.

      ‘Anastacia.’

      ‘From?’

      ‘Moscow.’

      It was like talking to a rock. And she was the one they were worried about? Boredom shone from her half-lidded eyes, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of here.

      Part of me wanted to walk away, but another part told me to persevere. Maybe Anastacia felt wildly out of place and her silence was all an act.

      ‘I’m from Michigan,’ I said.

      Again, the brief nod.

      Clementine chose that moment to wander over; she must have sensed my unease. ‘Del, come and try the canapés, they’re divine.’

      At the sound of Clementine’s voice Anastacia’s head snapped up, and the pair stared each other down, a bitterness charging the air. I had the distinct impression Clementine was envious of the girl, or felt threatened by her, and that’s why she was telling anyone who listened to watch out for her.

      With one last withering stare, Clementine grabbed my elbow and steered me away. ‘Isn’t she icy cold?’ she said in a stage whisper loud enough to bounce around the room.

      ‘She’s probably out of her comfort zone.’

      ‘Non, non, don’t be fooled. You have to remember this is a competition.’

      I shrugged. Clementine would have had you believe we were contestants on Survivor the way she acted, and it dawned on me that I’d have to be careful around the beautiful Parisian girl, and keep her onside so I wasn’t suddenly offside.

      Before long we were huddled with the management team who were intent on grilling us all over again. We’d answered their questions enough, hadn’t we? Couldn’t we let our perfumery talk for us here? One of them, Luc, a tall blonde man with a pinched face, took me by the elbow. ‘Del,’ he said, in a deep voice. ‘How do you think you’ll cope here, without the comforts of home?’

      ‘Great,’ I said, trying to make the lie sound genuine. ‘I’m ready to forge ahead now, step away from what I know.’ Truth be told, I worried I’d freeze up. Forget everything Nan taught me. Be so far out of my depth I’d drown. But I had to keep my game face on for now, and hope it all came together.

      ‘So would you say you’re ready to break the rules?’

      ‘My nan never followed the rules, she made her own, and I am very much the same.’ I lifted my chin. Luc smiled. ‘Good, very good. You are our wildcard. The one who could go either way.’ He drifted off and I was glad he couldn’t see the hurt on my face.

      The wildcard? Did that mean I wasn’t as talented as the rest but they’d been prepared to take a risk on me? Whatever confidence I’d had vanished, taking the breath from my lungs. Despite my bluffing, they’d picked up on the fact I’d struggled with perfumery since my nan died. It just wasn’t the same without her. I could mix oil blends, and simple scent remedies but the more complex perfumes eluded me. Without her it was like working with my eyes closed; I’d lost that vision. Had my sister noticed that too? And was that why she hadn’t wanted to risk the money she’d been saving for years? Suddenly I felt impossibly alone, and close to tears.

      As the night wore on my feet ached and my eyes grew heavy. I longed for escape. When dinner was finished and the Lecléres still hadn’t arrived, I made my excuses and left them all gossiping heatedly about where the Lecléres were and why they hadn’t shown up to host their own welcoming party. No two ways about it, it was strange, but gossip wasn’t my thing, and the answer would arrive eventually whether we clustered around guessing or not.

      My heels bit into my feet as I walked, making my hobble from earlier more pronounced, so when I came to a wine bar right near my apartment, I stopped and peered in. Only a handful of people dotted the place, so I ventured in and took a stool at the far end of the bar. I wasn’t one to drown my sorrows at the bottom of a wine glass, but tonight it seemed the tonic. One glass of wine and then bed. It wouldn’t do to start the first challenge fuzzy headed.

      The barman took my order and poured me a glass of white wine and placed a small bowl of peanuts next to it. I took a handful, and munched away, mind spinning at all that had happened, and grateful for the space to think without the contestants nearby.

      Part of me wanted to relish this new persona, this girl who sat in wine bars late at night in exotic locales. Why not? Just hearing French accents spring about the room was intoxicating. I could have listened to them all night and it stopped me from worrying as I got lost among their musical accents.

      ‘Are you following me?’

      I turned to a velvety French voice. Oh, jeez. If Jen was here she’d be harping on about fate and divine intervention. The fact that I’d run into this guy three times in one day! ‘I was here first, so you must be following me.’

      He