The Perfume Collector(9)

Laughter.

‘There is no possible way that this girl could know the contents – not even I know the contents and, quite frankly, I’m not certain I want to!’

More laughter and a smattering of applause.

‘And just to up the stakes, this time I’ll uncover the tray for only half a minute! Now, turn around,’ he instructed Grace, who did as she was told, turning to face the crowd of people who had gathered behind her. She could hear Maxwell emptying the handbag, arranging the objects on the tray.

Finally he gave her the go-ahead.

Mallory took her by the shoulders. ‘Are you ready?’

Grace nodded.

Mallory turned her round and Maxwell unveiled the tray. After only thirty seconds he covered it again.

‘Your time starts – now!’ he said, looking at his stopwatch.

Grace concentrated. ‘A linen handkerchief with the letters “VM” embroidered in one corner in white silk thread; a green enamel and gold powder compact; a tube of Hiver lipstick; an alligator change purse; a small tin of Wilson’s headache pills; a silver cigarette case; a torn Cadbury’s wrapper with half a piece of chocolate; an empty matchbox from the Carlisle Hotel; a ticket stub for the seven-twenty showing at the Regent Cinema in Edinburgh; a latchkey; a mother-of-pearl and gold cigarette lighter . . .’

She stopped, her face suddenly draining of colour.

‘A mother-of-pearl and gold cigarette lighter,’ she repeated slowly, ‘with the words “Always and Evermore” engraved on the side.’

The crowd burst into a round of enthusiastic applause.

‘It’s amazing!’ Maxwell raved. ‘Absolutely incredible! How could you even see what was engraved on that lighter?’

But Grace didn’t seem to hear him. ‘I’m sorry, you said this is your wife’s handbag?’

‘The very same,’ he beamed back at her. ‘Another round of applause for our champion, ladies and gentlemen! I’ll be renaming this stall Mrs Memory from now on!’

Cheers and applause.

Unseen hands clapped Grace on the back as she pushed her way through the crowds, desperately searching for the exit.

‘Well done.’

‘Very impressive.’

‘What a clever girl!’

Head pounding, palms sweating, she felt unreal, as if she were moving through the distorted landscape of a dream; her mind shrinking in on itself, focusing down to a single terrible point.

It couldn’t be true.

It couldn’t.

She could see the door now. It was only a few steps away.

‘Well, you certainly showed them!’ Mallory caught up with her. ‘Where are you going?’ She took her arm. ‘Hold on a moment, I’m going to buy you a drink . . . Grace, what’s wrong?’

‘Let go of me.’ Grace pulled away. She made it through the doors and just managed to get clear of the pavement before she was sick.

‘Good God! What’s all this? A case of nerves?’ Mallory dug around in her evening bag and handed her a handkerchief. ‘Easy does it. And mind you don’t get it on your shoes.’ She stepped back gingerly. ‘Or mine.’

When Grace had finished, she wiped her mouth, sinking on to the front steps.

‘Do you think it was something you ate?’ Mallory sat down next to her.

‘No.’

‘Maybe you had too much champagne? Perhaps it was the tarts. Oh dear,’ she frowned. ‘I had them too.’

‘Mal . . .’ The words stuck in Grace’s throat. ‘That’s my lighter.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It belonged to my father. It’s one of the only things I have of his.’

‘What lighter? What are you talking about?’

‘The lighter on the tray.’

It took Mallory a minute to place it. ‘Really? What’s it doing in Vanessa’s handbag?’

Grace looked across at her. ‘There was a matchbox as well. From the Carlisle Hotel.’

Mallory stared at her blankly.

‘The Carlisle Hotel is in Scotland, Mal. So is the Regent Cinema.’ Her voice tightened. ‘Along with my husband.’

‘You mean . . . oh.’ Mallory finally got it. ‘Oh. I see.’

Grace rested her head against her knees.

It was a beautiful, crisp night. Inside, the band played, laughter soared, the party reached a glittering frenzy.

Outside, they sat in silence.

After a while, Mallory stood up. ‘Come on, darling. It’s cold. I’ll drive you home.’

Grace got up too. ‘I want it back.’

‘What?’

‘The lighter.’

Mallory stared at her in horror. ‘Grace, be sensible! Let it go!’

‘It was my father’s.’ Grace’s voice was steely. Mallory had never seen her so determined. ‘It’s the only thing I have left of his.’ She opened the door. ‘I want it back.’