'You see, Anna,' he said, 'if we can see this as . . . as. . .' 'As what, Mr Amos?' I asked. He suddenly put on a smile. As a reward for all your hard work at the factory. After all, you are one of our best chemists. It's the least I can do to show how much I value your efforts. Have this meal on me! I'll pay for it!' If the meal had been there it would really have been on him - I would have thrown it at him! So he had changed his mind and now wanted to get rid of me. I didn't believe for one moment that this meal was a prize for being a good little chemist. I needed to be on my own to think what to do. 'Excuse me for a moment, Mr Amos,' I said, getting up from my seat. 'Of course,' he answered, looking less nervous than before. I went to the ladies' room. I felt like breaking the furniture or something. I was annoyed! I had my pride, after all! And why hadn't my Intrigue worked? Perhaps I hadn't put enough on, even for his expert nose. I decided to put a lot more on. Perhaps that would work. I looked in my handbag - it wasn't there! All that I could find was that bottle with the fruitcake in it that I had made at the factory. I didn't care, I put it on. I used up half of the bottle. Then I went outside again. As I was walking back to the table I almost ran into the waiter who had served us. He stopped and looked at me with a stupid look on his face. Then he remembered he had a job to do, walked on and knocked down a table with some cakes on it. When I finally reached the table, Mr Amos was looking embarrassed, as if he didn't want to be seen with me. I could see he was trying to hide it but he couldn't. Suddenly a strange thing happened: he opened his mouth, as if he was going to speak, then stopped. He had smelled the perfume — the fruitcake special — that I was wearing, and the change that came over him was immediate. His look of embarrassment just disappeared. Instead, he looked like a dog who had just found a bone; his eyes shone and he smiled until I thought his face would break in two. He stood up. 'At last you're back - I missed you, Anna,' he said. 'I've been in a terrible dream and I've just woken up.' 'A dream, Mr Amos?' I asked. I didn't understand what he was talking about. 'Call me David, darling ..." he said. Darling? What did he mean? What was happening? 'Yes . . .' he continued. 'I dreamt that I was being awful iо you, treating you as if you were just someone who worked for me. The truth is that you mean so much more than that to me . . .' I wondered what he meant. Was he going to raise my pay? He went on. 'You must realise that I'm crazy about you, darling.' He was calling me darling again. He was being serious. I have to say that at this point I was feeling very confused. Five minutes ago my boss didn't want to be seen with me. Now he was saying he was crazy about me! What could be making him behave like this? Then, all at once, I realised: it was the fruitcake special! Intrigue might smell great, but it didn't make a girl attractive to men. But my fruitcake perfume did. 'I feel my heart growing with love for you, Anna,' said Mr Amos. He was looking