I caught up with the young man and asked him if the smell reminded him of corpses.

‘No, it’s not as strong,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t turn my stomach inside out. When you see bodies lined up on the side of the road you feel like you’re trapped in hell. That’s just a stinky flower. It’s harmless.’

As he finished speaking a woman behind us made a gagging noise and announced she felt sick. A handkerchief covering her face, she pushed past us and I heard the young man mutter something that could have been ‘loser’.

We’d lingered too long in front of the plant and the pressure from behind shoved us forward. Of everyone around us, I think we were the only two not to take photos or selfies. As if you could capture a smell in a photograph.

True to her word, the estate agent was at my door at breakfast time with a middle-aged man, whom she introduced as Ralph, beside her. She kicked off her shoes and strode ahead of me into the living area, which she took in with a glance. I noticed she hadn’t brought either croissants or coffee as promised but I didn’t feel like eating.

‘You’ve really made it your own,’ she said. The photographer began snapping, moving pieces of furniture to accommodate the image he needed. The mug of cold coffee that had been sitting on the bench when I opened the door was placed on the floor as he took a photo looking from the kitchen to the living space. The coats and shoes by the front door were shifted behind the couch to allow a clear image of the beautiful woodwork and cleanliness of the windows. The photographer turned to the area where I worked and hesitated, staring at my table, my notebooks, uncertain how to proceed. I stood back, suddenly unsure of my ground, even though it was still my house and these were my possessions. The agent grimaced, as if she’d encountered an unexpected problem. Turning to me, she said, ‘We find the photos work best when there’s no clutter.’ She corrected herself, ‘No distracting objects. The place should appear welcoming and look lived in but not too quirky, if you get my meaning. We want buyers to relate to the space, to feel that anybody could fit in.’

I pretended I hadn’t quite understood.

‘Would you mind if we cleared away some of these bottles?’ she said. Then, as if she’d only just noticed, she added, ‘There’s quite a strong smell in here. It’s almost like something …’ And her words came to a standstill, unable to articulate the thought. ‘Would it be okay to move these?’ she repeated. As I watched, she began gathering handfuls of the bottled oils, plonking them down on the kitchen bench. The photographer helped her while I remained rooted to the spot, watching as, in their haste to clear them out of the way, they knocked some bottles over or left them to roll across the bench. ‘There, that’s better, isn’t it,’ she said. ‘I have a couple of reed infusers for the open home. They create a lovely ambience; they’re very refreshing and calming. The frangipani and vanilla scent masks odours beautifully.’