A NOSE FOR TROUBLE

Ally was at her wits’ end from trying to fathom it – but could Janice help her sniff out the truth?

Let Mum have a sniff about. She said she wanted to call in anyway,’ my boyfriend advised when I rang at work. Luke was stuck in his office that Saturday morning, but apparently his mum Janice was free to help me track down a mysterious odour in my house that was driving me crazy.

‘She’s legendary in my family, Ally,’ he went on. ‘She has a heightened sense of smell – the nose of a bloodhound. I haven’t told you the story about her and my ex yet, have I? Ask her about it later.’

Janice arrived half an hour later. I’d last seen her in the supermarket sniffing a grapefruit.

I’d had no idea then about her miraculous hooter. A thin woman in her 60s with sharp, blue eyes and brown, wavy hair, she started by surveying my 13-year-old son’s bedroom.

‘I did warn Toby I’d tidy up when he went to his mate’s,’ I explained. I’d cleared out most of the detritus earlier – mugs growing mould, plates hosting alien organisms, socks lurking in the darkness under his bed. ‘I opened all the windows, but there’s still a…pong.’

Janice’s nostrils flared. ‘How would you describe it?’ she asked me. ‘Prawns with a hint of plasticine?’

She rubbed at her tiny nose. I peered at it, wondering what spectacular feats such a little thing could do.

I’d met her son eight months ago. Luke had walked into the café where I work one lunchtime. Clearly miserable, he’d slumped into a chair. After I brought over the coffee he’d ordered, I’d asked if he was OK.

‘Sure,’ he’d replied in dour tones. ‘I’m getting over it now. I split with my wife about three months ago. I’m still, you know, recovering. I’ve decided to avoid the coffee houses we used to go to.’

Feeling sorry for him, I’d thrown in a free doughnut. He’d grinned at my sugary gift. I’d caught him watching me then as I’d served other customers.

He didn’t say too much that first day, but every lunchtime afterwards he showed up. Gradually, he told his story of divorce and I told mine. Only, he never did reveal any

tales of his mother.

Now she wandered the carpet I’d vacuumed to the point of it screaming for mercy. ‘There’s not much left to sniff,’ she observed, taking a whiff of the desk I’d cleared, then disinfected, then the bookshelves I’d scrubbed. I’d changed the bed, too, and cleaned the windowsill and panes. I’d even washed the curtains.

‘I told Toby that once I’d finished, he’d have to keep things tidy, but I’m not sure he’ll try very hard if the place still smells like a fish market. Do you think something’s crawled under the floorboards and died? Should I pull up the carpet and look?’ ‘No, not yet. Give me a moment.’ Janice waved her nostrils here, there and everywhere while I tried to keep my curiosity at bay. I lasted a whole five seconds. ‘Luke said there’s a story about you and his ex? He said I ought to ask about it?’ I ventured.

Her elegant eyebrows rose. ‘Actually, I told him it might be best never to mention that incident, just in case we needed to use the same trick again.’ ‘What trick?’

She stepped towards me and took an enormous sniff. ‘That’s a nice perfume.’ ‘Luke bought it for me.’

‘Hmm. Unsurprisingly, it’s not the same one he always bought for Samantha. Hers had more flowery notes. It used to mingle nicely with the antiperspirant he favoured in those days.’

‘Right,’ I replied guardedly. I got the impression she was offering clues – either that or giving a warning. Luke said his ex had cheated, using long dog walks as a cover story. ‘I think I’m catching up,’ I said the moment catching up occurred. ‘You sniffed Samantha out, didn’t you? I assume she ponged of somebody else?’

‘Yes. Jack Harcourt!’ Janice crouched down in her flowery skirt to snuffle at the skirting boards.

‘Blimey! You are accurate.’

‘I might never have made the connection, but Samantha always wore the same scent without fail. One day, I went to meet Luke at his office. He wanted to show off after his promotion in sales. He said we’d grab a bite to eat afterwards. Jack Harcourt works in the same building. He and I ended up in the lift together. It was just us two – well three really, since I could smell Samantha’s scent in there, too. It set my mind racing, I can tell you.’

‘But Jack could easily have been seeing a woman who used the same perfume,’

‘THE HAIRS ON THE BACK OF MY NECK TINGLED’

I pointed out.

‘Of course he could,’ she agreed, sniffing one of my son’s posters. ‘I told myself the same thing. I had no reason to suspect Samantha, none at all. Luke hadn’t uttered a word – he seemed blissfully content. Only, it played on my mind. Then I went out of my way to bump into Sam one evening to see if I could smell Jack’s aftershave on her clothing. Actually, I could even smell it on their Labrador. I knew I had to do something.’

‘So you… followed her on a dog walk one day?’

‘No. I confronted her. “Sam,” I said, “I know what you’re doing and I know who you’re doing it with.” She could have denied it all, but instead she confessed. That’s what a guilty conscience does. She might not have bothered if she’d asked how I’d found out.

‘She might have come up with a list of excuses about why her and Jack’s scents had innocently mingled. Instead, she begged Luke to forgive her and told him it was a fling. It devastated him. He’d never suspected a thing. He’s never had a good nose. He did live in a room like your son’s once. I think it more or less destroyed his sense of smell.’

‘That might be an advantage in Toby’s case,’ I pointed out, before she aimed her very precise nose at me again.

Stop doing that! I wanted to cry. I backed away to the door and her brow crinkled. Did she want to sniff me out, too, as if

I had something to hide?

‘You use apple-scented washing-up liquid,’ she concluded.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. Was I in the presence of the supernatural? Perhaps inviting her over had been a bad idea…

She dropped to her knees, sucking in the air drifting about the plug socket. ‘That’s odd! The smell seems to be coming from here.’

‘Are you sure?’ Stupid question! ‘We’ll need to take a look inside.’

‘I’ll turn the electricity off and grab a screwdriver.’ With that, I hurried off.

I returned moments later and set to work unscrewing the front plate of the socket. I wrinkled my nose – she’d discovered the source of the problem all right. Had Toby hidden some sardines for a midnight stack?

Once I’d freed up all the screws, I pulled off the plastic casing. Janice leaned over my shoulder to get a good look. My stomach knotted with her so close to me. It knotted even more when I saw the wiring in the socket, all charred and black.

‘What the heck? I’ll need to ring my dad. He’s my go-to guy for this kind of thing. Hopefully he’ll be able to come over.’

Leaving Janice to further examine the damage, I ran downstairs, found my mobile and called Dad on speed-dial.

‘It sounds like the wire’s arcing, love,’ he said when I’d explained. ‘It gives off a fishy odour. I’ll come over and take a look. You might need to call in a professional.’

After he rang off, my heart thundered as realisation struck. The whole house could have gone up in flames. I glanced back to the lounge doorway, thinking of Janice upstairs. She’ll have another story to tell now of her super-hooter.

I sniffed my sweater, trying to decipher the nuances . Washing powder? The perfume Luke gave me? Any lower notes? Anything rich, woody, earthy or exotic? Did Janice expect a confession from me, too, after her nosy observations?

‘Thanks for all this,’ I told her when I reached the bedroom. ‘You’ve averted total disaster. My dad’s on his way round to take a look. He’s done loads of electrical work in the past. He knows what he’s doing.’ ‘I might as well leave you to it then.’ ‘Oh, there’s no need to rush off. Why don’t you stay for a cuppa? I have Darjeeling.’ I guessed with olfactory senses like hers, her taste buds would demand the best. ‘Or coffee? I have a cafetière.’

I think she sensed my unrest. ‘A coffee would be lovely, thank you.’

In the kitchen, I got busy with the coffee grounds. The air filled with the scent of a rich Colombian blend as we drank. I did wonder if it would bamboozle her senses, like trying to see clearly through a fog.

Soon Dad was standing in my hall, his familiar toolkit in his hand. Not allowing him to disappear upstairs, I dragged him into the kitchen.

‘Dad this is Janice. Janice, my dad Phil.’ She smiled, her nostrils widening as she breathed him in. ‘Lovely to meet you, Phil.’

‘It’s his second visit today,’ I explained. ‘He came over this morning to help move some furniture around in the lounge.’

‘I see. What a lovely aftershave, Phil,’ Janice said, piling on the charm. ‘It’s sandalwood, isn’t it?’

‘It’s my wife’s favourite,’ Dad blushed. ‘She loves the stuff.’

‘Oh, me too.’ Janice sent a knowing glance my way.

Yes! I’d had Dad’s scent clinging to me, and it was one she’d clearly wanted to root out.

‘Well, I’d better get going.’ Before she left, she pulled me into an unexpected hug, her scent clinging to me as well as if she’d marked her territory. She whispered into my ear. ‘Case closed.’

Her son had been through far too much already – any tiny suspicion and she’d go on high alert. And who could blame her? Still, I’d nothing to hide, hence the quick reveal of my dad’s cologne.

‘I’d never cheat on Luke,’ I whispered back to her. ‘That’s not who I am.’

I must have reeked of the truth at that moment, judging by the way Janice beamed back at me.

THE END

Bailey Morgan, 2022

‘WHAT A LOVELY AFTERSHAVE… IT’S SANDALWOOD, ISN’T IT?’