[Wattys 2021 Shortlisted] In the ancient French perfume capital of Grasse, lives bohemian recluse Cassandra Ducasse, the last remaining member of a legendary family of perfumers. Trapped by her past, Cassandra is unwilling to take up the reins of h...
Pressed against the wall just inside the window, Cassie bit down on her lip to suppress a tiny gasp. She couldn't believe that he had returned after all these months. Hadn't he got the message?! He was only meters below her, and the aromas from his cologne and his skin were floating upwards and into the window like a serenade. Sandalwood, vanilla, spruce and pine resin, galbanum... testosterone. They painted an olfactory picture as clear as day. She could see him standing there now, his eyes deep with promise and his body tense and powerful.
''I've missed you, Cassandra Ducasse. Lord knows I've missed you,'' came the voice from below her. ''Cliché though it is, I just don't seem able to shake your beautiful, crazy self from my head.'' In her hiding-place, Cassandra whimpered. The irony of his statement had not escaped her.
Vince was still talking. "I did the wrong thing...,'' he said quietly. ''I messed up. I realise that now. I know I should never have taken that formula, and I am sorry - so very sorry that I hurt you. But I need you to understand that my intention was never to take it away from you. I would not have used it for anything that you weren't a hundred percent comfortable with.''
He paused for a moment, and Cassandra wondered whether he was still there. It took all her restraint to stop herself from leaning over, peering out the window just to check.
''I thought you knew me better than that Cassie. I thought we trusted one another,'' he began again. ''I know it didn't start out that way,'' he chuckled at the thought of the mutual suspicion that had marked their early encounters. ''But if our time together has brought us anything, I would hope that it is that. So, trust me now when I tell you that I am not the man your father was. I would never intentionally hurt or deceive you.''
His voice was heavy with sincerity, and Cassandra felt a thud in her chest as she noted the urgency in his tone. ''I have something for you Cassandra, a gift of sorts. Whatever is there is yours to do with as you like, but I do hope that you use it. This is what I always intended; you see. It just wasn't finished last time. This is what I had in mind. If ever you trusted me, Cassie. Trust me in this.''
Cassandra heard movement down below and allowed herself the tiniest peep around the window frame. He was holding a small box, which he laid carefully on the doorstep before stepping back again. As she slipped back into hiding, he seemed to catch a glimpse of her receding form. He looked up intently and called for her again.
''Cassie? Cassie?'' He paused, and Cassandra clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from answering. She couldn't see him, not now. She wasn't ready yet, wasn't prepared. Her body felt unsteady from the onslaught of emotions, and she backed further against the wall, pressing her palm into the solidity of the cool stone to support her.
Vince shrugged and backed away from the front door. He hadn't expected her to answer. He was almost in the middle of the road now, almost on his way, but he looked up at the window one last time.
''There's one more thing Cassie,'' he said. ''The submission meeting for our fragrance is exactly two weeks from today. Two o'clock in our London offices. Please come.'' Again, he stopped, as if hoping she would fill in her part of the conversation. ''I need you there Cassie,'' he said softly. ''I need you to share this with me. I know that that fragrance will carry Imogen's name, but it will always be ours Cassandra: yours and mine. Nothing can change that.''
This time he didn't wait for her reply, but simply turned and walked slowly back down the Rue Bagatelle.
The minutes that Cassandra waited to be certain that Vince was gone felt interminable. Her body felt weighted, anchored to the floor while she stood there, unable to move. Her mind was racing ahead – down the stairway, opening the front door, reaching for the package on the doorstep. Finally, she let herself go, staggering and half-tripping over the rug in the hallway in her impatience.
The box was pale ivory, rectangular with a lime and white, striped gross-grain ribbon tied across its middle. She recognized the bottle lying amongst the folds of ivory silk immediately. It was the one Vince had already given her: le soleil de Cassie. Tucked beside the bottle, was a silver flash drive and a folded note.
Warily, she opened the letter. It was written in Vince's tidy, careful hand. This drive contains all the marketing materials I have been working on over the past two months for 'le soleil de Cassie'. They are to help you as you relaunch your company, and I hope you like them. I would have liked to have done more, but this is the only skill I have - all I have to offer. Please accept them, Cassandra. They come with my sincerest apologies and my deepest gratitude.
Cassandra lifted the perfume bottle from its silken bed. The liquid inside was the same sunny-color as before, and the name of the perfume remained written in the same font across its front. There was one critical difference to the bottle Cassandra held in her hand now and the one she had seen those few months before. Below the perfume title, in bold, clear lettering now appeared the name of its manufacturer: L'Atelier Guipard.
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