‘Del,’ she said, breathlessly, holding a hand up to the waiter at the same time. ‘Have you heard?’
‘I haven’t, but I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say.’
Breathing heavily, she said, ‘Anastacia found the envelope with the key.’
Anastacia! Was I on track at the Ritz? I silently berated myself for being flustered by her and then later, Sebastien. What if I’d let the perfect opportunity pass me by all for the sake of escaping with my green face? It jarred a bit too, that she’d set me up in Chanel Spa and then found the key.
‘Where?’
Kathryn flicked her mane of red hair back, and sighed. ‘Point Zero.’
‘Point Zero? What’s that?’
She moved the checked cane chair to face me, and before I blinked a waiter appeared, telling her gruffly to move her chair back to face the street. Kathryn complied with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes, and ordered a café au lait in perfect French.
Why were we to face the street? I found it odd that all the chairs faced the road and not your companion, another French quirk to add to the list. I didn’t dare ask the man why, after his huffy puffy performance, as though we’d upset the order of things by being so clueless. It was quite comical without knowing why.
‘Elbows in, mademoiselle,’ he muttered as he walked off. Other patrons gave us the side eye, and it was all I could do not to laugh. It managed to distract me from the matter at hand for a moment or two.
‘Legs bent at the knee,’ Kathryn admonished with a laugh.
‘What?’
‘Terrace etiquette in Paris. There are unwritten rules for seating. If you have an outward facing terrace position then you must keep your elbows in and legs bent at the knee. Also you’ve sat at a table with cutlery yet you’re only having a coffee, and that’s a big no no too.’
‘I had no idea.’ What other rules had I broken without being aware? ‘Why do they face the street though?’
‘Why not? Isn’t it nicer to watch the world go by?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘It’s a French thing.’ She sighed and lit up a cigarette, taking a deep drag. Before blowing out smoke rings. So she hadn’t given up all her vices when she left Paris all those years ago? Every second person smoked here. There was seemingly no concern for those eating, people inhaled slowly, and then blew their smoke all over the place. It didn’t really concern me, it was all part of the perfume of Paris.
While I waited impatiently for an answer, Kathryn’s fragrance shivered in the afternoon breeze. She wore a bold, herbaceous scent; it suited her.
She stubbed her cigarette out, and puckered her lips. ‘I shouldn’t smoke. Don’t let me smoke. It tastes disgusting, I really can’t understand why I crave them so much. It’s the pressure that’s doing it.’
‘Try making a blend of black pepper, cedar and patchouli, and put it on your pulse points. That will stop the nicotine cravings,’ I said. I’d helped a number of people to quit smoking, a simple fix if you balanced the blend well with the right notes.
She titled her head. ‘Really?’
‘Really. So, the key. Point Zero?’
‘Oh, yes, so Point Zero is the exact centre of Paris, where all distances are measured from. Out the front of the Notre-Dame a small octagonal brass plate is embedded in the pavement. You probably stepped over it if you dashed past.’
I slapped a hand to my forehead. I’d been so close! Just around the corner – this proved it was time to switch on and start playing the game better. I had a deeper understanding of what lengths the others would go to win, so I had to up my strategy, or risk losing out like this again. Dammit to hell and back, I had been so close.
‘It’s not what I expected them to choose,’ I said, sipping my coffee and willing my legs not to ache, so I could press on once I’d finished my drink.
‘You don’t understand the significance, do you?’
‘Not really.’ Measurement didn’t seem very auspicious to me.
‘To some it might be a marker which distances are measured from, but for others it’s something much more significant. It’s a wishing place.’
‘What do they wish for?’
‘For true love! You’re supposed to spin in a circle on one foot, make a wish and then voila, very soon your heart’s desire will appear. A man, a perfect specimen of man, tall, dark and handsome…if you’re into that.’
I laughed nervously, as Sebastien’s green-eyed gaze popped into my mind and I silently berated myself once more. Didn’t I just give myself a talking to about focus? I could’ve sworn my sister had inhabited my body and was running things. It just wasn’t like me to worry about anything other than perfume, but the idea of love kept swirling and I couldn’t think why. I had a clear five-year plan (OK, so it needed tweaking after Jen’s bombshell) and men didn’t figure into that. Especially broody French men who lied about who they were…
I cleared my throat, shrugging off my inner turmoil. ‘I’m not really into men.’
She did the duck lip face and said, ‘Well, petite, fair and pretty then.’
‘What…?’ Oh! I slapped my face. ‘No, no, I meant, I’m not into men right now. I’m more worried about my future. You know being almost thirty and all that.’
She gave me a dubious look. ‘No need to justify anything to me.’
Great, she didn’t believe me. The situation was suddenly hysterical, once again we’d got off track, so I tried to bring it back to the matter at hand.
‘Point Zero is a romantic spot, as whimsical as it might be. Goes to show, we really don’t have any idea what we’re up against with these challenges. We’ll be on our toes that’s for sure.’
‘Especially if they’re going to be so…’ she folded her arms ‘…random. Like how does that place equate to perfume?’
I contemplated the link too. It would help if we knew why they chose such a place. Surely it wasn’t just by chance. It had to be significant for a reason. ‘I get it!’ I said, holding up a finger. ‘It’s symbolic, our journey should start at the very centre of Paris… Add some romance into the mix by choosing a location where lovers kiss, or people wish? It’s perfect. Perfume is romance, after all.’ Nan’s whole mantra about the language of love sprang to mind. Perfume was love, love was perfume, it was how you translated it that mattered.
‘Of course, you’re totally right.’ She sighed. ‘How could I miss that? I can see it now in hindsight, but I went straight for the Musée du Parfum. It wasn’t there, too obvious, right? Like Sebastien said earlier, we have to think outside the usual parameters of perfume, and this just proves it. You can’t count on anything! It’s going to be a hell of a ride.’
I nodded, grateful that I had someone to chat to after the whirlwind day.
She continued: ‘I have to think faster, today was a complete write-off in terms of the competition. I can’t even summon up the energy to move but I know I need to.’ Her face twisted, and lemony scent of worry perfumed the air.
It was my turn to sigh, I felt the same, zapped of energy and down about not finding the key. Outside the day cooled as the sun dropped. ‘It’s getting late,’ Kathryn said morosely, her enthusiasm vanished.
This had been the girl alongside Clementine who’d been hell bent on studying everyone’s social media profiles, finding out every tidbit of information about us all and the first day had leached her confidence.
I raised my hand for the bill, and paid for Kathryn’s coffee, hoping she’d appreciate the small gesture of friendship.
‘Come on, Kathryn, it’s not the end of the world. Get yourself together and get back out there. Wow them with your perfume and forget about the key. It’s over and we’ve just got to press on.’ If anyone had to worry, it was me, the wildcard of the group.
‘Yes, darling, I’ll think perky thoughts, or intravenous coffee might help,’ she said through half-slitted eyes.
I left her cupping her head in hands, and collected my things and wandered into softly falling twilight.
***
Hours later, as moonlight cast gauzy fingers onto the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, I turned into our little side street and trudged upstairs to our apartment, fatigue making my mind fuzzy. Every muscle ached and I was ready for bed. The thought of taking off my boots and freeing my poor blistered and bruised feet was all I was focused on.
My bed had been freshly made and I was seconds away from slipping beneath the covers for a power nap until Clementine came noisily down the hall, and all thought of peace quickly disappeared.
‘There you are, Del! What an exciting day, non?’ Somehow her make-up was still as perfect as it had been in the morning – was it really only this morning that we’d set off? It felt like aeons ago – and an eager smile lit up her face. How had she remained so fresh? Perhaps being Parisian helped. There was no studying up on tourist attractions or Metro maps, she’d have known them all, but still she hadn’t found the key.
‘Yeah, exciting,’ I said, weariness tinging my voice, as I noted Clementine could go from foe to friend as swiftly as the blink of an eye.
‘Ooh la la, you’re tired. You look a sight with your wind ravaged ’air, and…’ She leaned in to survey me. ‘Did you go swimming?’
‘Swimming? No. Where would I swim in Paris for god’s sake?’ Not in the Seine that’s for sure.
‘You’d swim on the barge, ’aven’t you seen it?’
‘No?’
‘Piscine Josephine Baker, a swimming pool built on a barge in the Seine. You ’aven’t been there swimming, are you sure?’
‘There’s a swimming pool on a barge?’ Paris really had it all. How long would it take to hunt out all the hidden gems in the huge city with its twenty arrondissements, curling around one another like a snail shell.
‘Oui. We swim laps there, my maman says I must because of the cherry clafoutis, but for me it’s more about the men. They wear the little trunks, those teeny tiny…’
I interrupted in case I spent the next hour listening to her wax lyrical about men’s nether regions. ‘I get it,’ I said. ‘But no, I haven’t been swimming, Clem, as nice as the piscine sounds. I’ve been running madly all over town.’
She scrunched her nose. ‘You are ’ow you say, fresh faced. Sans make-up. To be quite honest you look a little misérable.’
‘Oh,’ I said, her question making sense. ‘That! Well, Anastacia tried to sabotage me and I ended up with a green face mask on and had to run out of the Ritz in the middle of a treatment without paying. And of course I ran into Sebastien when I resembled the Hulk. And to hear she found the key, well if I had a voodoo doll…’
‘I know a place we can get such a doll.’ She held her finger up to her lips as if it was a secret. ‘You just say the word, non?’
‘Erm, thanks, Clem. I’ll keep it in mind.’
She arched a brow. ‘You think I’m joking? Non, you must take extreme measures or she’ll always pick on you. Cunning as a box she is.’
‘A fox, you mean?’ I shrugged. ‘I think pretty much everyone is cunning, Clementine. I don’t trust anyone.’ Who knew what they really wanted? Kathryn’s arrival at the café might not have been innocent. Even Sebastien kept his real identity secret when he had so many chances to tell me. They were all suspicious.
‘Oui, you’re correct,’ she said as she took off her earrings. ‘But you’re still not playing the game right, Del. You may as well wear a flashing sign saying NICE GIRL. Your perfume skills might be fantastique, but you’re too nice. Nice never wins. You have to start thinking like they do. And they’ll do anything to win, so don’t let them.’
I flopped back onto the bed. ‘Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done.’
‘Not really. Strike before they do. Or stay the ’ell away from them all.’
‘Aren’t you a little disappointed though, Clem? Like I was expecting we’d all be friends, and this would be some life affirming competition and despite the prize on offer, we’d make these everlasting friendships, and have lunch when we were in whoever’s town. I didn’t expect sabotage.’ And really, Clementine was up there with Anastacia, shady as hell too.
She harrumphed. ‘Non, I did not think it would be like that, that is for TV, that kind of fairy tale,’ Clementine said with a shrug. ‘Who knows what will ’appen. Just focus on fragrance, we’re not here to make friends.’
‘You said we were friends.’ I couldn’t help but tease her, but I sensed Clementine picked and chose her friends on whatever whim she felt at the time.
Her features softened. ‘Oui, of course we’re friends! What’s the nice girl going to do to me? Nothing, that’s what! She’s too nice!’
I lobbed a pillow at her for good measure. She ducked and it sailed over her head. ‘That’s more like it, Del!’ she said proudly. I could only shake my head, she really had no idea who I was and had pegged me for a sucker but that was probably a good thing. Better if I was no threat to her.
She kicked off her heels (how did she spend all day in heels!?) and sat at the end of my bed. ‘You know, I helped Lila out with directions? Silly girl must have misheard me and got on the wrong train, she ended up visiting Versailles…’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Whoops.’
My mouth fell open. Lila must’ve ran into Clementine after she left Place Vendôme. ‘You didn’t!’
‘I did. One less person to worry about. But now we have Anastacia with the advantage.’
Poor Lila! Out of the group, she was the one hanging back, eyes darting nervously around. For Clementine to do such a thing was plain mean. ‘Clem, that wasn’t cool. Lila is young, and this is probably her first time away…’ (Mine too!) ‘How could you be so mean?’
She shrugged, and blithely went to the balcony and flung open the doors, letting in the balmy evening breeze. ‘Pah! It’s part of the game! You’d do well to learn from me.’
It took all of my might to swallow the scoff that bubbled up.
She continued unabashed. ‘I’m not worried about Anastacia finding the key and ’aving the advantage of using Vincent’s personal studio because she’s not the best perfumer.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Anastacia was here, and that meant she was a threat as far as I was concerned. Everyone had been subject to the same rigorous selection process as we had.
Clementine unwound her colourful scarf, and scrutinized herself in the mirror, puckering her lips and batting her eyelashes before turning to me. ‘I’ve done some digging on Anastacia, and well, her style is pared back. Minimal. She believes you don’t need to complicate fragrance. A handful of aromas and that’s all she uses, she doesn’t layer the scent. Lazy, non?’
Dragging myself vertical once more, I took off my boots, wiggled my toes, relishing in the freedom. By the sound of it Clementine had spent an inordinate amount of time internet stalking the contestants when she could have spent that time perfecting her own style. It made me wonder if her own perfumery lacked a little je ne sais quoi…
‘We don’t know if Anastacia’s style is lazy or genius, Clem. Maybe she’s on to something, we could be muddling perfume by adding unnecessary elements, and how could we know unless we try?’
Like writers, or artists, perfumers each had their own style, their own voice, and their perfumes reflected that. Anastacia’s style was understated and I was interested to see how it worked. Less is more appealed to me, I often made herbal tinctures with only a handful of ingredients and they turned out just fine. Perfume was more complex, but I could envisage it working as long as the scent was perfectly balanced. Anastacia’s style had piqued my interest and reminded me that I was here to learn, and soak up as much as I could while I had the chance.
‘Pah!’ Clementine said again, a word that for her brooked no argument. ‘I may as well rub a sprig of rosemary on my wrist and be done with it! And why are you standing up for ’er? Didn’t she do the wrong thing by you today, Del? You should be planning revenge not ’aving that doe-eyed deer look in your eyes.’
I laughed. ‘Oh, Clementine, you speak of me like I’m this timid little bird! I was plotting revenge for a good few hours as I raced over Paris, but you know what? It distracted me, it stopped me thinking about perfume and this week’s challenge. I’ll let the rest of you sabotage each other, while I dream about fragrance and what I’m going to do when I win.’
In Clementine’s perfume was the scent of wind and rain, and zephyr of challenge. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone and part of me thought it would be her downfall. But what the heck did I know really, except Paris wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies and neither were the contestants.
‘I’m going to shower,’ she said. ‘And then we are to attend dinner.’
At the mention of food my stomach rumbled but after the long day, and the memory of them clustering around gossiping the night before, I was put off. I’d grab dinner in one of the cheaper bistros in the 5th instead. And truthfully, I didn’t want to have to stare at Sebastien all night. ‘I’ll pass,’ I said. ‘I’m so tired, I just want to eat as fast as possible and sleep.’
She tutted. ‘I thought you Americans were a little more fun!’
‘My feet are about to fall off.’
‘Pah!’ she said.