he’d asked Zickler. Does it actually give you preternatural, magical , olfactory sensitivity? Will you be able to tell the difference between species of tulip from a mile away? Or inform the police what the victim’s last meal was from the odour palette of their kitchen? Or tell whether your lover is true from the tang of her sweat?
Felix laughed at himself. No, there were only the usual smells of the bathroom: soap on the wash stand, bleach from the floor, the slight odour of damp that told him Joanna had showered before she left. He could see the water droplets on the shower curtain, and a rim of mildew around the hem that had really quite a strong taint to it. It almost masked the sting of mint from the dried smear of toothpaste on the sink, and the fulsome guff of sewage seeping from the toilet, the lingering stain of farts too, and the cloying, complex mélange of bathroom dust – talcum powder mixed with flakes of skin and tiny hairs and carpet fibres – and that dog really did stink, she’d been washing him in here, in their shower, that was disgusting, and their neighbours, the vegetarians , well she’d been cooking bacon again after he’d left for work and then doused the place in the most godawful aerosol freshener—
Felix removed the Nose.
And breathed out.
•••
The effect on Felix’s fortunes was immediate. He told no one but Joanna about the Nose, insisting on privacy while he worked, but it was difficult not to associate his ownership of the artefact with the sudden flood of work offers. And that initial flurry was nothing compared to how it got once word of his newfound abilities spread.
In a few short weeks there was enough money to completely redecorate the apartment. Joanna might have been a little more pleased about it, but her scowl over breakfast had not shifted one bit. Out of sorts, Felix had accidentally kicked the dog, which had taken to following him round, constantly sniffing at his legs and jumping up, and he and his wife had argued. “And give that thing a proper bath outside,” he’d yelled as he rushed out to catch the flight to Strasbourg. “It stinks.” Her reply had been a petulant mutter, but it had sounded like: Look who’s talking .
Bernal et fils was a gourmet provisioner. Having started life several generations back as two brothers with adjoining shops, one a poissonnier , the other a volailler , their main business now was in procuring expensive comestibles for the elite of Europe. However, they still kept their hand in with a range of home-smoked fish and meats.
“Monsieur Kapel.” The woman’s smile was professional, her handshake firm. “Welcome to Bernal. I’m Elodie Meilleroux. Thank you for coming all this way. We really hope you can help us make our mark in the smoked salmon market this winter season.”
“My pleasure.” Felix smiled too, simply because it was nice to be smiled at for a change. “I’d like to get going right away if that’s all right. Although I have to say I still don’t understand why you need me for this, don’t you have tasting panels?”
“ D’accord .” As Meilleroux waved him towards a door, she glanced quizzically at the carpet where he had walked. Felix looked too but if there was anything there, he couldn’t see what it might be. “Well, that’s our problem, you see,” she said, holding the door and then following him through. “Our panels can’t decide. And to be honest, Monsieur, the company can’t afford to get this wrong.” She shrugged apologetically then ushered him through another door. “So, we’ve called in the expert.”
Felix was getting used to people saying things like this. It had taken long enough.
“Obviously, I’ll do what I can,” he said.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Meilleroux beamed and stopped before one more door. “Well, here we are. The room has been prepared as you requested. Spotlessly clean, fragrance-free detergents, no background odours.”
“Very good.” Again
Felix laughed at himself. No, there were only the usual smells of the bathroom: soap on the wash stand, bleach from the floor, the slight odour of damp that told him Joanna had showered before she left. He could see the water droplets on the shower curtain, and a rim of mildew around the hem that had really quite a strong taint to it. It almost masked the sting of mint from the dried smear of toothpaste on the sink, and the fulsome guff of sewage seeping from the toilet, the lingering stain of farts too, and the cloying, complex mélange of bathroom dust – talcum powder mixed with flakes of skin and tiny hairs and carpet fibres – and that dog really did stink, she’d been washing him in here, in their shower, that was disgusting, and their neighbours, the vegetarians , well she’d been cooking bacon again after he’d left for work and then doused the place in the most godawful aerosol freshener—
Felix removed the Nose.
And breathed out.
•••
The effect on Felix’s fortunes was immediate. He told no one but Joanna about the Nose, insisting on privacy while he worked, but it was difficult not to associate his ownership of the artefact with the sudden flood of work offers. And that initial flurry was nothing compared to how it got once word of his newfound abilities spread.
In a few short weeks there was enough money to completely redecorate the apartment. Joanna might have been a little more pleased about it, but her scowl over breakfast had not shifted one bit. Out of sorts, Felix had accidentally kicked the dog, which had taken to following him round, constantly sniffing at his legs and jumping up, and he and his wife had argued. “And give that thing a proper bath outside,” he’d yelled as he rushed out to catch the flight to Strasbourg. “It stinks.” Her reply had been a petulant mutter, but it had sounded like: Look who’s talking .
Bernal et fils was a gourmet provisioner. Having started life several generations back as two brothers with adjoining shops, one a poissonnier , the other a volailler , their main business now was in procuring expensive comestibles for the elite of Europe. However, they still kept their hand in with a range of home-smoked fish and meats.
“Monsieur Kapel.” The woman’s smile was professional, her handshake firm. “Welcome to Bernal. I’m Elodie Meilleroux. Thank you for coming all this way. We really hope you can help us make our mark in the smoked salmon market this winter season.”
“My pleasure.” Felix smiled too, simply because it was nice to be smiled at for a change. “I’d like to get going right away if that’s all right. Although I have to say I still don’t understand why you need me for this, don’t you have tasting panels?”
“ D’accord .” As Meilleroux waved him towards a door, she glanced quizzically at the carpet where he had walked. Felix looked too but if there was anything there, he couldn’t see what it might be. “Well, that’s our problem, you see,” she said, holding the door and then following him through. “Our panels can’t decide. And to be honest, Monsieur, the company can’t afford to get this wrong.” She shrugged apologetically then ushered him through another door. “So, we’ve called in the expert.”
Felix was getting used to people saying things like this. It had taken long enough.
“Obviously, I’ll do what I can,” he said.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Meilleroux beamed and stopped before one more door. “Well, here we are. The room has been prepared as you requested. Spotlessly clean, fragrance-free detergents, no background odours.”
“Very good.” Again
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