Felix tried to match her smile. “Then I shall get started.”
When he raised his hand to push the door, though, she stopped him. She looked embarrassed. “Monsieur, I’m sorry but, have you perhaps stepped in something . There are a lot of dogs in the area…”
“Stepped in something, you mean like—?”
“Oui, merde , Monsieur Kapel. Can’t you smell it? It’s really quite strong.”
Kapel shook his head. Without the Nose on, he could smell only the things you’d normally expect to smell in an office building. Sterile carpet, stale recirculated air, a lingering chemical taint of air freshener. Nevertheless, he lifted first one shoe, then the other. His soles were spotless. Meilleroux’s brow creased. She checked her own shoes, then she shook her head. “I must be imagining things.”
“It’s not a problem. The nose sometimes plays tricks on the best of us.”
She shrugged again. “I’ll let you get to work then. When you’re finished, press zero on the phone and ask for me.”
The room was empty of everything apart from the table, the sample containers and the clipboard and pen. Felix placed his briefcase on the table and retrieved the velvet-lined box that used to contain his Krugerrand. He took out the Nose, and began his work.
•••
Business boomed. Felix travelled constantly, all over Europe, to the Americas and throughout Asia. First class every time. He passed the travelling time writing guest columns for a variety of trade magazines and Sunday supplements and responding to requests to give informative talks. At least to begin with. The columns continued, but the public appearances dried up pretty fast. He tried not to feel personally insulted. Same as when the customers, delighted with his work, nevertheless tried to persuade him not to visit in person in future. We don’t want to inconvenience you. I’m afraid our budget won’t stretch. We’ll send the samples to you. Don’t you use Teleroma?
He did not, would not, could not use Teleroma. His laptop barely managed email. And besides, he told them: “Why would you buy a greyhound and make it run in shackles?”
Return visits were to deserted parts of buildings accompanied by a single green-faced employee. Even though Felix had bathed that morning, was wearing clothes fresh out of the dry cleaner’s wrapper, and brand new shoes.
At first he thought it was his imagination, but the evidence mounted. What he had thought at first to be room accorded by the public to a person of obvious status became naked avoidance. People crossed the street to distance themselves from him. Shop keepers asked him not very politely to leave. Children jeered, or cried.
He thought of Karlheinz Kuntz. Of psychosomatic putrescence . Well, what else could it be? He was sure he gave off no particular smell – he of all people would detect one, surely – but everyone he came into contact with acted like he was the skunk from those old cartoons.
Even Joanna was sleeping in a room at the opposite end of the apartment now. The only person who enjoyed Felix’s company these days was Bijoux. When he came home, the little bastard was waiting at the door to snuffle at his ankles, happily licking its chops.
Joanna was sitting in the kitchen typing on her computer. When she saw him she looked cross, then guilty, then nauseated. Like the rest of the flat, the kitchen was full of fresh cut flowers and the windows were wide open.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in…” She trailed off because he knew she had long since ceased to care where his travels took him as long as it was out of the house.
“Change of plan,” he said. “I’m conducting a telephone interview with Spice! Magazine .”
Joanna sneered. “Oh, they’re not coming to do it in person? I wonder why.”
“Well, the drains…”
“It’s not the drains , Felix. Have you seen the doctor again?”
“He maintains there’s nothing wrong with me a good bath won’t fix. And
When he raised his hand to push the door, though, she stopped him. She looked embarrassed. “Monsieur, I’m sorry but, have you perhaps stepped in something . There are a lot of dogs in the area…”
“Stepped in something, you mean like—?”
“Oui, merde , Monsieur Kapel. Can’t you smell it? It’s really quite strong.”
Kapel shook his head. Without the Nose on, he could smell only the things you’d normally expect to smell in an office building. Sterile carpet, stale recirculated air, a lingering chemical taint of air freshener. Nevertheless, he lifted first one shoe, then the other. His soles were spotless. Meilleroux’s brow creased. She checked her own shoes, then she shook her head. “I must be imagining things.”
“It’s not a problem. The nose sometimes plays tricks on the best of us.”
She shrugged again. “I’ll let you get to work then. When you’re finished, press zero on the phone and ask for me.”
The room was empty of everything apart from the table, the sample containers and the clipboard and pen. Felix placed his briefcase on the table and retrieved the velvet-lined box that used to contain his Krugerrand. He took out the Nose, and began his work.
•••
Business boomed. Felix travelled constantly, all over Europe, to the Americas and throughout Asia. First class every time. He passed the travelling time writing guest columns for a variety of trade magazines and Sunday supplements and responding to requests to give informative talks. At least to begin with. The columns continued, but the public appearances dried up pretty fast. He tried not to feel personally insulted. Same as when the customers, delighted with his work, nevertheless tried to persuade him not to visit in person in future. We don’t want to inconvenience you. I’m afraid our budget won’t stretch. We’ll send the samples to you. Don’t you use Teleroma?
He did not, would not, could not use Teleroma. His laptop barely managed email. And besides, he told them: “Why would you buy a greyhound and make it run in shackles?”
Return visits were to deserted parts of buildings accompanied by a single green-faced employee. Even though Felix had bathed that morning, was wearing clothes fresh out of the dry cleaner’s wrapper, and brand new shoes.
At first he thought it was his imagination, but the evidence mounted. What he had thought at first to be room accorded by the public to a person of obvious status became naked avoidance. People crossed the street to distance themselves from him. Shop keepers asked him not very politely to leave. Children jeered, or cried.
He thought of Karlheinz Kuntz. Of psychosomatic putrescence . Well, what else could it be? He was sure he gave off no particular smell – he of all people would detect one, surely – but everyone he came into contact with acted like he was the skunk from those old cartoons.
Even Joanna was sleeping in a room at the opposite end of the apartment now. The only person who enjoyed Felix’s company these days was Bijoux. When he came home, the little bastard was waiting at the door to snuffle at his ankles, happily licking its chops.
Joanna was sitting in the kitchen typing on her computer. When she saw him she looked cross, then guilty, then nauseated. Like the rest of the flat, the kitchen was full of fresh cut flowers and the windows were wide open.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in…” She trailed off because he knew she had long since ceased to care where his travels took him as long as it was out of the house.
“Change of plan,” he said. “I’m conducting a telephone interview with Spice! Magazine .”
Joanna sneered. “Oh, they’re not coming to do it in person? I wonder why.”
“Well, the drains…”
“It’s not the drains , Felix. Have you seen the doctor again?”
“He maintains there’s nothing wrong with me a good bath won’t fix. And
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