Perfect

I expect it to be strawberry again but I frown. “That’s not strawberry,” I say, confused. “I know it’s not strawberry but I don’t know what it is.”

“Aha,” he says happily. “Progress.”

“Yay,” I cheer myself.

“Smell.”

I sniff. “Orange.”

“Now taste.”

I feel his fingers brush my lips as I open my mouth. I’m so distracted by everything around the jelly bean, everything that’s happening, I can barely concentrate on what I’m doing. All of my other senses are on fire. I try to focus. I smell as I chew, waiting for my nerve endings to recognise whether it’s bitter, salty, sweet, or sour flavour. I recognise the taste as being the same as the previous taste. Bitter. “Orange.”

“Yes,” he says, pleased. “Now let’s go again.”

Carrick is nothing if not efficient, and persistent. Over and over again, we try the test until I think I get the hang of using my gift of smell. He’s practically emptied out the fridge of flavours. I have correctly identified most without needing to smell the bag first.

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