“The smells coming again Mr Carpenter, if you can come now you will really be able to get a whiff of it”. The complainant had been phoning for many weeks to try and enable an officer from the Environmental Health department to pin point the source of the smell, but every time a visit was made the elusive odour had disappeared. “I will be down right away Mrs Graham” I said feeling reluctant. “Let’s hope we hit the jackpot this time. “Well I wish you would only this sweet sickly smell is making me ill,” said a rather despondent Mrs Graham.

The house was situated in an area heavily mixed with both industrial and residential development and in my opinion it was quite possible that any number of factory units could have been responsible for the odour emissions.

The property was an end terrace and was occupied by two sisters and a large old Alsatian and, as I entered the yard of the house, the dog snarled at me from a kennel at the far end.

“Now, Butch, be quiet!” said the portly built lady, as she rushed out of the house rubbing her hands on a grubby apron. “Come in, Mr. Carpenter, I’m afraid you’re too late the smell’s gone for the time being and there is no odour in the house either but I am sure it will occur again soon”.

I walked through the kitchen towards the living room and was amazed by the general condition of the house. The kitchen was full of pans piled high with congealed food in them; the cooker was caked in grease and burned food, and there were vegetables stacked to the ceiling in sacks. Some had rolled on to the floor and begun to sprout. The washing up bowl was full of cups and beakers, all cracked and with large chips out of them.

I entered the front room and was ushered to a very soft, blackened, well worn chair.

A thin lady appeared at the door and smiled. “Ah, you’re the smell man, are you? Well, I’m afraid it’s gone now” she said.

The Alsatian nudged the door open and came up to me, his tail wagging furiously.

“I’ve let him in to say hello to Mr. Carpenter” said the tall thin lady, “and he seems to like you”. She bent down and spoke to the inquisitive dog.

“Who’s got a nice big bone for you tomorrow then, Butch?” The dog sat down on my foot and barked once.

I looked at my watch and made a note of the time. I had been in the house for approximately a quarter of an hour and there was still no trace of the odour re- appearing. I stood up and patted the dog.

“Well, I really must be going, I am afraid” I said. “I have another appointment which I must attend to pretty soon”.

“Well, I think it will most likely come back tomorrow, now; don’t you think, Martha?” said the thin lady, looking disappointed as she led me back into the kitchen, the Alsatian already hot on her heels.

I noticed a large knuckle bone on a plate and thought to myself that this must be Butch’s treat for the following day.

“Keep in touch” I said, and left the two ladies and Butch looking out of the yard towards the nearby factories.

“Mr. Carpenter, it’s in our house, again”. The recognisable voice of the tall thin lady was booming out at me down the phone. “Can you come now? We are both being choked out of the house” she said.

“I’ll be ten minutes, so don’t worry” I said, as I hastily collected a morning’s list of complaints and hurried out of the office.

I duly arrived at the house and was greeted by Butch who was barking and wagging his tail at the same time.

“Come in, Mr. Carpenter, I think the smell is at its worst upstairs” said Martha, the portly lady.

I walked through the kitchen again and the smell of boiling bones assailed my nostrils and I noticed the large knuckle bone bubbling away in a blackened saucepan on the cooker.

“Come upstairs, Mr. Carpenter. We’ve had the windows open but they are closed now, so that you can smell the odour” said Martha, and led me up a dimly lit staircase. The carpet was damp and sticky underfoot and I was almost pushed forward as Butch nuzzled past me and disappeared into the bedroom.

The back bedroom walls were covered with posters of pop musicians of the last decade and the bed was littered with old records and music newspapers.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Carpenter. Just sit on the bed you can move the records. Our young nephew used to live with us but he has been left many years now”.

I looked towards the window and could see the factory units nearby.

“I can smell something but I am not sure what type of odour it is” I said.

“Well, look, stay up here for a while it’s bound to come back” said Martha and disappeared out of the door.

Butch stayed with me, sitting uncomfortably close, and I was now becoming confused about the origins of the smell. Was it the boiling bone, the musty smells from the unused room, the stinking breath of my canine companion or indeed was there a genuine cause for complaint from the factories nearby? Butch gazed at me with soulful eyes, before yawning, scratching vigorously and loping off downstairs to check on his bone!

I had been sat on the bed about ten minutes and was beginning to smell something strong permeating the bedroom, when the small fat lady put her head around the door and smiled.

“Now, then, I know it’s cold outside, so I’ve brought you a bowl of soup to warm you up”.

A lump came to my throat and the muscles in my neck began to constrict, as I remembered Butch’s knuckle bone boiling in the kitchen. To emphasise this even more, Butch charged in behind the lady and looked anxiously at the bowl.

The lady turned to Butch and said “Now, don’t be a naughty boy, Butch, this is not for you. Yours is downstairs”.

With that, she thrust the steaming bowl into my hands, handed me a spoon and sat down in front of me smiling. “You’re going to enjoy that” she said.

I lifted the spoon out of the oily bowl and put it to my lips. The taste was surprisingly pleasant and I desperately pushed any thoughts out of my mind of what I had seen in the pan in the kitchen and tried to swallow. Butch’s eyes were riveted on the spoon as it passed from the bowl to my lips, his mouth beginning to drool.

Martha didn’t say a word as I struggled valiantly to keep the soup down. The only noise came from Butch, who whimpered from time to time, constantly shifting his position and edging nearer to me all the time in expectation of a titbit.

I had hoped Martha would have left the room so that Butch could finish off the soup for me, but no such luck, and after what seemed an eternity I held the empty bowl out to her.

“Any more, Mr. Carpenter, there’s plenty more if you want any” she offered, smiling.

“No, no thanks” I said, my stomach already considering whether to return the contents. “That was very nice” I said and wiped the beads of perspiration from my forehead with a handkerchief.

“Well, I didn’t have time to offer you a cup of tea yesterday, so that will have warmed you up nicely” she said.

Butch barked and looked up at the lady.

“No, Butch” she said. “You can have yours later”.

A few minutes later, my senses by now being razor keen, I identified a sweet solvent type smell which very suddenly entered the room and then was gone. I was sure that I could now trace the source to a solvent recovery plant not too far from the house and I explained to the ladies what I intended to do about their problem.

“Well, Emma, he’s had his lunch now” said Martha, looking pleased with herself.

“Yes, thank you very much” I said, making my way quickly down the stairs and daring not to look at the pan on the cooker as I walked through the kitchen.

My expected bout of food poisoning never materialised and I was thankful that after 48 hours no ill effects had laid me low. Colleagues in the office did remark, however, that my coat was looking glossy and my voice had deepened to a growl!!