The (Perfume) Bottle....(short story) by Dr.Strange

The (perfume) bottle

David gave Molly the bottle of perfume on their second week of courting - but he didn’t tell her the full story until she asked if he had haggled at the market. No, he said, that was the funny thing; the old market peddler wouldn’t sell the perfume to begin with. She would only sell it if he allowed her to perform a reading!

David had not been keen on the proposition; surely it was a ruse to relieve him of money. Besides, he had never been comfortable with such ‘mumbo-jumbo’, as he called it.

However, the peddler insisted; the reading would be free and it would help to determine a fair price. David was not convinced but he really did want a gift for Molly – so he conceded.

Then the ‘mumbo-jumbo’ commenced. First the palm of his right hand was scrutinised.

Then there was a routine with a pack of Tarot cards. The whole procedure was accompanied with much clucking and tuting - punctuated with the odd grunt! David remained sceptical through out.

He studied the peddlers face as she performed her arcane arts. Her leathery tanned features were deadpan - except for a brief moment at the end; her expression seemed to cloud over then with doubt, there was a queer look, almost of fear - but the expression was replaced with a peddlers conniving grin.

‘for true love I give a good price…this be for your one and only sweat heart…and she will bear you a child…a lovely daughter…’

To David’s astonishment the price of the perfume was nearly half of what he had expected. There had to be a catch; but he could not detect it. The bargain was done.

In his telling of the tale David was dismissive of the fortune teller’s pronouncements. After all he would probably never see her again and it was a fair bet that perfume was a lover’s gift. But Molly favoured a more romantic interpretation. It all seemed so fateful and special. In Molly’s mind the story grew in to her own personal fairytale. They would live happily ever after. And they were happy, very happy – for a time.

But the War took David away and he never returned. He left behind the perfume bottle and happy memories – and, as it turned out, a beautiful daughter: Sarah.

Molly often mused over the peddler’s words and remembered David’s description of the fleeting queer look - had the peddler really foreseen it all? She would never know for sure, but she felt that there was more to it; something niggled at her mind; something that had eluded her all that time ago – but now she was beginning to understand… The clue had been the label; David had recounted everything he could remember; at her insistence - he had humoured her; anything for a quiet life, he had joked.

At the last moment the old peddler had added something to the perfume and given it a slight shake. Then she altered the hand written label, which had read: Sweet Dreams. She scored out the word Dreams and added under it the word Memories.

‘That should do!’ the peddler had said.

This nagged at Molly; after all, why bother? It had always been a puzzle – until now.

Molly had all but forgotten about the perfume bottle when –quite by accident - she made the discovery. It happened just before the move to the Acorn, the retirement home.

Molly was clearing out her belonging. The process was more a psychological one than a physical one. With each personal belonging she was really clearing through her life and memories; saying goodbye, in effect. It took a long time – but thankfully Sarah was there to help.

Molly wistfully regarded the collection of make-up and perfumes she had accumulated over the years. As she reached for an old favourite make-up case she was startled by her reflection in the dresser mirror. She knocked over a rather large chunky perfume bottle -and quickly picked it up.

The memories flooded back, bitter-sweet - but now mostly sweetened by the passing of time. How could she have forgotten? But she hadn’t forgotten really – she just needed reminding.

Would the perfume have spoiled? There’s only one way to find out, she thought. She removed the glass stopper. Wow! The fragrance was magical! She experienced a rush like a drug high. She felt dizzy and sat down.

It was like her mind was a time machine; her old feeble memories came alive; she wasn’t just remembering the past – she was reliving it! She was there, in the moment! There with David…then the moment seemed to collapse and fade like a lucid retreating dream.

That was Molly’s first experience of lucid memories. At the retirement home she experimented with the perfume’s miraculous properties. She found that she could only boost her memories from the times that she had been with David. Or more accurately, from the time that he had given her the perfume…she wasn’t complaining; it was the best time in her life…she savoured every moment…

But time was running out for Molly. Her mind and her body were both deteriorating fast and she was often confused by visitors she should recognise but who were strangers to her. She would confuse Sarah, her daughter, with Jenny, her granddaughter. This was on a good day. On a bad day they were both strangers to her once again.

As it happened it was Jenny who was with Molly when she died. Jenny had to tell her mum about her last and final visit. Fortunately it had been a good day; Molly had only needed reminding that she was Jenny, not Sarah.

Jenny’s current boyfriend accompanied her on the visit - but Molly never really acknowledged him. Molly had made a fuss about an old bottle of perfume. She dabbed the perfume on her wrist and thrust the bottle out to Jenny.

‘That should do’ she said ‘now you take it…I want you to have it.’

Jenny had to bend closer to hear the last breathless words because Molly’s voice was fading to a whisper. The final words were almost drowned out by the insistent bleeping of a monitor. Molly’s eyes held her gaze for a moment longer, then closed. 


Jenny was puzzled by Molly's final words. Something about 'sweet memories...make your own experiences...make them good, be happy.' Was it a sort of delirium at the end?

Medical staff swarmed into the room. Molly was in a coma. She never regained consciousness. She died five days later. The strange thing was she was smiling the whole time.