'I
don't quite know what you want,' Erin said, leaning back against the stall. A
row of bulbous perfume bottles rattled against one another.
The
old man smiled and leaned forward on his walking stick. 'Unfortunately that is a
problem when relaying the memory of a smell but just bear with me and I'll have
it. You'll have a sale yet, my dear.'
'Okay.'
A sale meant very little to Erin. This wasn't even her stall, she was tending
to it while Elma was straightening out the finer details of her new bank loan.
Making even one sale was a kindness.
The
old man made exaggerated sniffs of the air. The smell was supposedly in this
spot and very familiar to him. He had described it as warm and curved like a
petal. Erin had run all the expensive bottles past his nose but none of them
were it apparently. He didn't look as certifiable as some of the other
potential customers that had passed by today.
He
wrinkled his nose. 'Could you pick up the rose bottle please?'
'This
the one?'
'Yes.
It's interfering.'
Erin
tucked it away in the cupboard underneath the stall. She would have to put it
back before Elma returned; she hated mingling the sweet stuff with the cheap
tat. Erin turned back to the old man.
'How
about this?' she said. 'I move the stall forward a bit and you can see if the
smell follows.'
The
old man flipped this over between his thick black eyebrows. 'All right.'
Erin
lifted the catch from the ground and wheeled the stall forward a couple of
feet. She was in danger of encroaching upon the space of the man selling
watchstraps, something to be strongly avoided, but she kept it there anyway
while the old man leaned even further forward to smell the space on the ground
where the stall had been.
It
did seem possible that all the spillages created from free samples throughout
the day had led to the concoction of an entirely new smell but really Erin just
wanted to see how far this old man would go before giving up and just moving
on.
The
old man looked up. 'I think it went with you, dear.'
Erin
pulled the stall back again. 'It's not what I'm wearing, is it?'
'Pardon?'
'This
mysterious, exquisite smell thing isn't just some line you're running to
flirt?'
The
old man looked hurt. Nevertheless he smelled the space around her
neck. 'Of course not.'
'Then
I'm afraid I really don't know what to tell you.'
'What's
in that little glass tincture?' the old man said, looking just beneath her
elbow.
Erin
turned around. 'Whereabouts?'
'Behind
all that Chanel.'
She
pulled out a small thin square bottle of perfume. The liquid inside was clear.
She passed it to him.
The
old man unscrewed the lid and sprayed a little on his wrist. Erin didn't even
get the chance to offer a sample stick. He looked up and smiled. 'This is it, I
think.'
'Is
it?'
'Yes.'
Erin
glanced at the price chart beside the till. 'That'll be a fiver please.'
The
old man pulled out his wallet. He was so excited he almost fell off his walking
stick. He regained his balance and passed her the note.
Erin
ran it through the till and smiled at him again. 'Happy?'
'Please
smell.' The old man raised his wrist to her nose. She breathed in the scent.
'Lovely,'
she said.
'Thank
you,' the old man said, walking back down to the mall entrance.
'Would
you like a bag?' Erin called after him but the tincture was already in his coat pocket.
She felt strangely triumphant. There were only a few hours left till Elma came back
to close up but Erin had achieved something after half a day spent standing around. That she couldn't smell a thing was
entirely beside the point.
