The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Free Page A

relieves anger and resentment.
    â€œP erfume is emotion. It’s a vision that you have to transform into a fragrance.”
    â€œYes, Grandma.”
    â€œThis is what we do. This is our job, my girl. It’s our duty, and a privilege.”
    Elena looks down. Lucia’s words dart through the air like delicate notes of jasmine; first lightly, seemingly innocuous, then intense, hypnotic and compelling. She doesn’t want to listen to them, she doesn’t want to lose herself in the dreams they evoke, she doesn’t want to follow them. Her heart starts to race, and colors run through her. Now they’re scents, but they turn into a sky full of shining stars.
    It’s easy to lose herself in them; it’s fun. They make her smile. They make her happy. There’s no reality, no responsibilities. Nothing matters now; only the colors, only the perfume.
    â€œPerfume is a language—it’s how we speak. Remember, Elena,perfume is the truth—the only thing that really counts. You can’t lie to perfume. Perfume is what we are. It’s our true essence.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    A loud buzz interrupted Elena’s dream and she sat up with a start, bewildered. As the last threads of sleep dissolved, she took in the familiar objects and realized where she was. The weight of her memories was heavy, and relentless. There had been one second of detachment from reality, a moment when time and space didn’t exist. Then she heard her mobile vibrate again.
    She jumped out of bed, tripping over the sheets tangled around her legs, and, kneeling on the polished floorboards, she fumbled in her handbag.
    â€œWhere are you, for God’s sake? Where have you got to?” she wailed as the contents of her shoulder bag scattered across the floor, rolling in all directions. She finally got hold of her mobile and opened it. When she saw the name on the screen, she closed her eyes, pressing the device to her lips.
    â€œMonie?” she said, still half-asleep.
    â€œElena, what are you doing? I’ve been here nearly an hour. I can’t believe you forgot we were meeting this morning.”
    â€œSorry, you’re right. It’s just . . .” Elena paused and sighed. “Listen, do you mind if we cancel? I really don’t feel like going out today.”
    â€œIf you’re going to carry on like this, you might as well ring the priest and ask him to bury you now, Elena. I’ve got half a mind to call my mom and tell her what’s going on.”
    â€œNo! You promised you wouldn’t, remember?”
    â€œNo, I don’t remember. It must be the Florence air, the same thing that made you forget we were meeting this morning.”
    Elena felt guilty. “Look, I’ll get over it, Monie. I just need some time.”
    â€œPff! I’m not leaving you to wallow in self-pity. That’s not going to help. Anyway, going out might be just what you need.”
    Silence, then Elena tried again. “Another time, maybe. OK?”
    â€œNo, we can’t do it another time,” Monique replied. “My flight to Paris is tonight, as well you know. I need you, Elena. You promised you’d come with me. And,” she continued, “it can only do you good. At least it’ll stop you dragging yourself around like a ghost hunting for its tomb. Where are you now?”
    â€œAt my grandmother’s house.”
    â€œ
Parfait!
It’ll take you less than twenty minutes to get to Leopolda station. I’ll be waiting for you outside the gates.” And Monique hung up.
    Elena looked at her mobile, then turned to the window where she could almost count the thousand different rays making up the stream of sunlight.
    Maybe Monie was right; maybe it was time to start living again. Going out was as good an attempt as any, and besides, shutting herself away in the house wouldn’t make this go away. Not that she wanted to go