The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Free

waiting for the moment it would meet the smell coming from the river. The smell of the past, the smell of loss.
    She stopped in front of a huge door, put an old key into the lock and turned it. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she immediately felt better.
    She was back.
    Even though returning to her grandmother’s house was the only sensible thing to do, the young woman couldn’t ignore the deep sense of defeat. She’d left determined to change her life, and instead she was back here, in the house she’d left behind when she was so full of dreams for the future.
    Elena almost ran up the stairs, trying not to look down the two dark corridors that led to what had once been the laboratory and Lucia Rossini’s workshop. She went into the bathroom, took a quick shower, then changed the sheets and got into bed.
    Lavender, bergamot and sage. Their perfume drifted through the whole house: it was penetrating, like the loneliness crushing her heart. A moment before she surrendered to exhaustion, she thought she felt a soft hand stroking her hair.
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    The following morning she woke up early, as usual. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. She’d left the shutters open, whichwas why it was so bright. The floor and the bed were bathed in sunlight. But it was the perfume of the house that fought its way through her lethargy and wrapped itself around her.
    She got up, because she didn’t know what else to do. Downstairs, she took a seat in the same place she’d always sat since she was a little girl. After a moment she looked at the polished wood table and noticed just how big it was. She fidgeted awkwardly in her chair. There was a gloomy, oppressive silence.
    â€œI could put the TV on,” she mumbled aloud. But her grandmother didn’t have one; she’d always hated television. And Elena wasn’t a huge fan either; she much preferred reading.
    But all her books were still at Matteo’s place.
    An overwhelming pain stirred in the pit of her stomach. Her life had fallen apart . . . What on earth was she going to do?
    She looked around, bewildered. Every single thing in the house was familiar to her, and she loved all those strange, old objects: the plates hanging on the wall, the glazed terra-cotta pots her grandmother kept pasta in, the furniture she’d so often had to polish, no matter how much she complained. She should have felt less lonely surrounded by these things, but instead she felt empty, so empty and alone.
    She stood up and, with her head bowed, went straight back to her bedroom. She thought about calling her friend Monie and telling her everything. About that snake Matteo, and about Alessia. They made a fine couple. She bit back a swearword. Then, realizing she was alone and there was no one to shock, she rattled off a whole stream of profanities. She said them all, every single bad word she knew. She started quietly, then her voice grew stronger until she was shouting. She carried on yelling until she felt ridiculous, and only then did she stop.
    A moment later, sitting on the bed, she dialed Monie’s number, wiping away her tears as she did so. She mustn’t cry—Monie wouldbe able to tell. Her friend had no time for crybabies, Elena reminded herself. She took a couple of deep breaths, counting the rings.
    How long was it since she’d spoken to Monique? A month, maybe two? She’d been so busy managing the restaurant and coping with all Matteo’s demands.
    â€œ
Oui?
”
    â€œMonie, is that you?”
    â€œElena?
Chérie
, how are you? Do you know, I was just thinking about you! How’s it going?”
    Elena didn’t answer—she couldn’t. Clutching her mobile tight, she burst into tears.

Two

    M YRTLE:
forgiveness. Beautiful, magical, evergreen. Intense and deeply aromatic.
    The fragrance of serenity, the very essence of the soul.
    Soothes the spirit,