It was late when I reached the pharmacy, and before going in I did something I only ever did before delivering lectures: I huffed into my cupped hands and smelt my breath. It seemed fine, though I’m not sure I’d be able to tell. And I’m pretty certain it’s been disproved as a way of detecting bad breath. The same guy was at the counter and behind him, with her back to the shop, was Thora. I guessed she was filling out a prescription for a woman who sat by a water cooler with a small child curled against her. She smoothed his hair and spoke quietly: ‘Not long now, love. We’ll get you home soon.’ I couldn’t tell who was sick but they both looked tired, as if they’d had a long day and there was no immediate promise of relief. Thora came out and handed the woman a folded white bag. After going over the instructions concerning dosage, she reached into her pocket and brought out a lollipop for the child.

Then she turned to me and said hello.

‘Hi.’

There was an awkward pause, but then she smiled brightly. ‘Benzoin.’

As she reached under the counter, she glanced at me and said, ‘I didn’t recognise you yesterday. I’m sorry.’

I felt my mouth curl into a smile. ‘I wasn’t sure, either,’ I said. ‘But, actually, you haven’t changed much. Apart from your hair.’ I made a gesture with my hands, the type of stroking pat favoured by hairdressers when discussing a cut or style. ‘It’s the other way around. Grey and black.’

‘Yep.’ Thora looked at me, as if taking in my changes. ‘Are you still a museum curator?’

‘No, not for a long time.’

Thora looked surprised. ‘Oh, what do you do?’

I was about to answer when the young assistant beckoned Thora and she excused herself. While she was gone I occupied myself looking at the flavoured lip balms displayed on the counter. Some had easy to recognise names, like vanilla bean or sour cherry, but others were obscure. Stardust. Was it a flavour, and if it was, would it taste of rock and minerals and colour your lips grey?

Thora was soon back, presenting me with two amber-coloured bottles, one containing benzoin and the other friar’s balsam.

‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted the benzoin for your medical cabinet or for making perfume. Do you still make perfume?’

She remembered. I felt a surge of pleasure. ‘Yes, I do. It’s still a hobby, though, nothing serious.’

Thora lifted the smaller bottle, the benzoin tincture. ‘This is probably more useful, but really there’s not much difference between them in terms of concentration. It’s expensive compared to the friar’s balsam.’

‘Why is it called friar’s balsam? Do you know?’

‘No. All I know is that it’s been around for hundreds of years. People use it much in the way they’d use iodine, on wounds or blisters. It’s a bit messy because it stains the skin dirty yellow. You don’t have to take both, or either. I can put them on the shelf.’