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in a bottle than water.
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ Nickie said. ‘Already it’s beautiful, and I haven’t even smelled it yet.’
    She looked at Gabrielle.
    ‘Trust you to choose that one,’ she said, giggling.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Tabu. You know what that means.’
    ‘No, what’s it mean?’
    ‘Tabu — it’s French or something for … taboo! T.A.B.O.O.’
    Nickie had never heard of the word. ‘Oh, really!’ she said.
    Gabrielle was smiling. ‘You’ve got no idea, have you?’
    ‘Nope.’ Nickie laughed.
    ‘Well.’ Gabrielle nudged Nickie over and sat on the chair with her. ‘Taboo means forbidden. Completely forbidden,’ she said. She lifted the bottle to her nose and took a deep breath in. Then she held it under Nickie’s nose. Nickie sniffed. She’d never smelled anything like it before. It was like every flower ever grown had been mushed up together, then after that mixed with something else. Sherry or whisky.
    ‘It was made by a famous perfume maker in Europe,’ Gabrielle carried on. ‘And the story is that he was given a challenge.’
    Gabrielle was tipping the little bottle. Her finger was over the hole. She brushed aside Nickie’s hair and gently dabbed her finger against her neck, behind her ear. ‘This is where ladies put it, to attract men,’ she said. ‘For allure.’
    Nickie didn’t bother asking what allure meant.
    ‘So,’ Gabrielle went on. ‘Do you want to know what the challenge was?’
    She was breathing closely into Nickie’s ear. Her words seemed totouch the place where she’d dabbed the perfume. It made Nickie feel weird, little shivers went down her back. It was a wonderful thing, this Tabu. One little touch of it and the glamour spread right through her.
    ‘Tell me,’ Nickie replied.
    ‘The perfume maker had to make a perfume for a whore.’
    Gabrielle stared into the mirror. Her eyes were wide open and her cheeks were red — not just from the rouge.
    ‘Golly,’ Nickie said. She sniffed. ‘Wow.’
    ‘You don’t know what a whore is either, do you?’
    ‘No.’ Nickie was past being embarrassed about what she didn’t know.
    Gabrielle took in a deep breath.
    ‘Ohh kaay. Well you say hore , like John Hore, but it’s actually spelt differently, with a W. So it’s W.H.O.R.E.’
    ‘Got it,’ Nickie said. ‘So what’s it mean?’
    ‘A whore,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Is a prozzy. Prostitute.’
    ‘Wow. So explain it to me again, the thing about the perfume.’
    ‘So. The guy who makes perfume was asked to create a perfume for a whore. Which if you think about it means he had to make a perfume that would make men choose you, instead of other whores.’
    Nickie wanted to say something cool. She wanted to talk about sex, and a perfume that would make men want sex from you. But the smell behind her ear seemed to be getting stronger. It was starting to make her feel sick.
    ‘Can we wash this stuff off?’ she asked Gabrielle. ‘Mum will go crazy if I come home smelling like a … whore.’
    ‘We’ll do it later,’ Gabrielle said. ‘Let’s finish the job.’
    She swished brushes around Nickie’s face, ordering her to open her eyes, then close them, look up, look down. For the last bits, Nickie had to close her eyes.
    ‘Don’t open them,’ Gabrielle said. ‘Don’t open them ’til I say it’s okay.’
    It seemed to take forever. Nickie tried not to think about the sex perfume but it was hard, it was so strong.
    ‘Open,’ Gabrielle said finally.
    Nickie stared at the mirror, at the amazing person that Gabrielle had turned her into.
    ‘Oh.’ That was all she could manage. She was so happy, tears were coming. She blinked them away before they leaked onto the make-up. ‘Thank you. Oh my God …’
    ‘Cool, eh?’ Gabrielle grinned at the reflection.
    ‘ So cool … Does your dad mind you wearing it? All the make-up, I mean?’
    ‘He doesn’t even notice.’
    ‘How can he not notice? My father would go nuts. Actually, he wouldn’t go nuts, because Mum