Mary unlocked the door of her little shop and stood on the threshold. Something was wrong! She was sure of it! She looked round at the ranks of small brown bottles, the stacks of aromatic candles, and the baskets of dried flowers, but nothing seemed to be disturbed. The cash till, too, appeared intact. Of course, that was not a worry for Mary. A practical lady like her did not leave cash overnight for anyone who might feel the inclination to break in.
Mary was not subject to sudden whims and fancies. So why was there this feeling that something was wrong? She shrugged her shoulders and, telling herself not to be stupid, turned her attention to the bottles, polishing each one carefully with a soft cotton cloth before gently placing it back on the shelf. Such fascinating names, she thought - Ylang Ylang, Pettigrain, Frankincense - conjuring up all sorts of exotic images.
"'ello gel," Brenda, the new shop assistant, burst through the door intent on imposing her brash personality on the otherwise peaceful shop. "'Ere, are you all right? You look as if you're worried about somefing."
"No, no," replied Mary "I'm fine."
"Well, you don't look it. Why don't you let me give you a massage? - a nice drop of lavender or grapefruit oil. It'll do wonders for yer."
"Oh no, no," Mary shook her head determinedly. She did not mind selling the stuff but she was not going to allow all that mumbo jumbo to be used on her own body.
"All right then," said Brenda shaking her head ruefully. "How about a nice cup of tea?"
As Mary sipped the tea, she began to feel more comfortable. It was ridiculous to allow herself to be so upset by such an indeterminate feeling. After all, Brenda did not seem to notice anything amiss.
Mary looked across at where the younger woman was delicately flicking a feather duster over the candles and marvelled at the contrast between her bold appearance and her sensitivity to things and people. It was this quality in Brenda that made her so perfect for the job. She could assess people as soon as they entered the shop - seemed to know instinctively exactly which essential oil would help with their condition. If anything was wrong, Brenda would know immediately.
"Come 'ere, Mary, and 'ave a sniff of this," Brenda interrupted Mary's reverie.
Mary leapt to her feet, her emotions mixed. On the one hand she was pleased to learn that her own subconscious faculties were developing - at last. On the other she dreaded the discovery of something dramatic and unpleasant.
"Come on," called Brenda somewhat impatiently. "Somefings wrong with this 'ere lavender. It ain't got no scent."
"Don't be silly," replied Mary with a sigh of relief. "It must have a perfume. It was only picked yesterday and lavender scent lasts for ages."
"You smell it then." Brenda pushed a bunch of lavender at Mary.
Mary sniffed. Then sniffed again. Brenda was right. There was no scent at all from the lavender. She sighed. So she was not developing any remarkable abilities. She had just been aware of the lack of the aroma that she had taken so much for granted over the last few months. Well, at least her reputation for being the down-to-earth practical one would remain intact.
"What we gonna do?" asked Brenda suddenly. "We can't sell lavender that ain't got a scent."
"We'll just have to put people off - find some excuse - until we can get some fresh," replied Mary. "I'm more concerned about what made it go off. It could happen again."
It was some time later that Brenda came up to Mary with a puzzled look on her face.
"Ere," she said. "Do you remember that old lady what came in yesterday just before closing time?"
"Do you mean the one that was dressed in black with the funny pointed shoes?"
"Yeah. That one. Do you think she could have put a curse on our lavender?"
Mary struggled to smother a giggle. She knew Brenda believed in some strange things. But curses? Wasn't that going a bit far?
"No, Brenda," she said in her most businesslike voice. "I do not think we have witches amongst our customers."
"Please yourself." Brenda shrugged her shoulders. "I just thought. Well, she did look like a witch, didn't she? And she was definitely miffed when I suggested some Bergamot Oil for her acne. And don't you remember? She looked straight at that lavender when she went out - and nearly broke the glass when she slammed the door."
Mary laughed. "Sounds convincing, but I really don't think she could have been a witch - at least not one with spells and a cauldron."
"Well, she wanted those 'erbs for somefing. And I'm telling you, some of them on her list were none too choice. We wouldn't use them."
Brenda was obviously disgruntled at Mary's skepticism, but Mary considered the conversation had gone far enough. Still concerned about the degeneration of the lavender, she turned her attention to writing out an order for a new supply.
Thus engaged, Mary failed to hear a customer entering the shop, and it was not until she noticed a quite different and distinctive aroma that her attention was aroused. She gently sniffed the air trying to identity this fragrance, which was, she felt, somehow connected with her childhood - fresh, like open fields and hay meadows; comforting, like granny's newly laundered sheets, home cooking, beeswax, and lilies; a countless collection of perfumes all merged into one exquisite sensation of nostalgic delight.
The scent seemed to permeate every corner of her little shop, and Mary was almost overwhelmed by a sudden sensation of joy bubbling up inside her. It threatened to overflow into a burst of girlish laughter when she beheld the customer who was receiving Brenda's undivided attention.
Mary could hardly believe her eyes. Yesterday's odd customer had been old and knurled and looked like an old witch. This one was young and slim, and so light that she seemed hardly to touch the floor. Her small pretty face was surrounded by wispy blonde hair, held down by a circle of flowers. She looked like - like nothing so much as a fairy! She was so ethereal that when she crossed to the other side of the shop, Mary would have sworn that she actually floated - with her lavender-hued gossamer dress drifting in the breeze behind her.
Brenda was in close conversation with the girl and treating her with a respect that was almost deferential. But no! Surely she wasn't going to sell her the lavender that had lost its scent. Brenda would never do that. But the girl seemed to be taking the whole basketful in her arms and was holding it up to the window - as if praying - for a miracle? And with the sun streaming through the glass, bathing the little scene in golden light, it looked for all the world as if she was going to get one.
Mary opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when the girl put down the basket and turned to smile at her before flitting across the shop and disappearing out of the door. Such a simple smile. The sort that anyone might give a stranger. But to Mary it seemed that something warm and enchanting had touched her heart, leaving it full of joy and delight.
"Now go and smell that lavender," said Brenda, with a smug self-satisfied toss of her head.
Mary hesitated. She had an uncanny feeling that she was about to be made a fool of, but her curiosity soon overcame her. She did not have to go far, for as she approached the baskets, an overwhelming effusion of lavender perfume surrounded her senses.
The sunshine! It must have been the warmth of the sun coming through the window that allowed the scent of the lavender to come through. Yes, that was the logical explanation, thought Mary, but she could not help wondering if that was really the answer.