and cider, but this was a revelation. We had umpteen single-cask Islay malts that night, and I felt like pulling up trees and climbing mountains, the buzz was completely different to getting hammered with my mates.’
‘What is it about Islay malts that are so special?’
‘You have to ask?’
Molly shrugged. ‘I’ve grown up around them, it’s hard for me to have any perspective. I’ve always wondered what drives smokeheads.’
‘It’s the combination of everything. The Islay malts feel so Scottish, yet totally international at the same time, more so than other whiskies.’ He raised his glass and looked at it. ‘This liquid is older than us, and its incredible flavours are a combination of a million different factors, from the seaweed next to the Laphroaig warehouse to the Spanish oak of the butts, from the peat smoke of the furnaces to the sherry that was stored in the barrel before it. No other drink borrows so much from outside influences, really absorbs those tastes and flavours and sensations then transforms them into something utterly new and original. I think the whole process is amazing.’
She was sitting closer to him now, his plans and papers fallen onto the floor. He found himself staring into her big green eyes, then suddenly somehow he was locked in an awkward and tentative kiss, tasting the smoke on her tongue and the sweetness of her lipstick, feeling the softness of her hair in his hand. How had that happened?
After a few moments she pulled away and placed a hand on his face.
‘Let’s just take it easy,’ she said. ‘You seem like a nice guy, but …’
He held her hand. ‘It’s OK.’
She smiled and Adam felt a burning in his chest, a swirling blend of happiness and old spirit.
13
He woke with the taste of peat in his mouth. He was on Molly’s sofa under a blanket, watery light rippling through the window. His watch on the coffee table said 8:45 a.m. Next to it was the empty Laphroaig bottle, two sticky tumblers and a note.
Had to nip to work for a bit. See you at your B&B later for the big trip? Thanks for last night, Moll x
He remembered the kiss. He ran a finger along his lips then licked it. The faint fizzy film of her lipstick was still there. They’d stayed up for hours talking about his plans for the distillery, her idea of going to uni, swapping whisky anecdotes. He couldn’t remember when they’d gone to sleep, or how the night ended.
He pulled the blanket off. He was fully dressed apart from his shoes, which were neatly arranged under the coffee table. As he pulled them on he heard the front door open, then Ash came in, dishevelled and bleary.
She smiled when she saw him. ‘Aye-aye, dirty stop-out.’
‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Touché.’ She threw her coat on the floor and left the room, returning with a carton of orange juice. ‘Where’s Moll?’
‘Gone to work,’ said Adam, folding the note and putting it in his pocket.
She took a big swig from the carton. ‘You two get it on last night?’
Adam stood up, felt his head pound. ‘None of your business.’
‘I’ll take that as a no.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Listen, just be careful, OK? She’s been through a fuck of a lot lately, and I don’t want you adding to her grief.’
‘I don’t intend to.’
‘I swear to God, if you upset her, I’ll rip your bollocks off and feed them to you.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘I mean it. You’ve no idea what she put up with from that wanker.’
‘I have some idea.’
‘No, you don’t. He used to hit her, and worse. Much worse. If you tell her I told you, it’ll be bollocks-on-a-plate time, you got me?’
‘Loud and clear.’
‘Good. I’m off to bed.’ She ran a hand through her straggly hair. ‘Tell Roddy if he wants to find me, I’m working in the Ardview tonight.’
‘We’re barred, remember?’
‘Oh yeah. Well, whatever.’
She left the room and Adam looked around for his jacket, pulling it on and heading out
‘What is it about Islay malts that are so special?’
‘You have to ask?’
Molly shrugged. ‘I’ve grown up around them, it’s hard for me to have any perspective. I’ve always wondered what drives smokeheads.’
‘It’s the combination of everything. The Islay malts feel so Scottish, yet totally international at the same time, more so than other whiskies.’ He raised his glass and looked at it. ‘This liquid is older than us, and its incredible flavours are a combination of a million different factors, from the seaweed next to the Laphroaig warehouse to the Spanish oak of the butts, from the peat smoke of the furnaces to the sherry that was stored in the barrel before it. No other drink borrows so much from outside influences, really absorbs those tastes and flavours and sensations then transforms them into something utterly new and original. I think the whole process is amazing.’
She was sitting closer to him now, his plans and papers fallen onto the floor. He found himself staring into her big green eyes, then suddenly somehow he was locked in an awkward and tentative kiss, tasting the smoke on her tongue and the sweetness of her lipstick, feeling the softness of her hair in his hand. How had that happened?
After a few moments she pulled away and placed a hand on his face.
‘Let’s just take it easy,’ she said. ‘You seem like a nice guy, but …’
He held her hand. ‘It’s OK.’
She smiled and Adam felt a burning in his chest, a swirling blend of happiness and old spirit.
13
He woke with the taste of peat in his mouth. He was on Molly’s sofa under a blanket, watery light rippling through the window. His watch on the coffee table said 8:45 a.m. Next to it was the empty Laphroaig bottle, two sticky tumblers and a note.
Had to nip to work for a bit. See you at your B&B later for the big trip? Thanks for last night, Moll x
He remembered the kiss. He ran a finger along his lips then licked it. The faint fizzy film of her lipstick was still there. They’d stayed up for hours talking about his plans for the distillery, her idea of going to uni, swapping whisky anecdotes. He couldn’t remember when they’d gone to sleep, or how the night ended.
He pulled the blanket off. He was fully dressed apart from his shoes, which were neatly arranged under the coffee table. As he pulled them on he heard the front door open, then Ash came in, dishevelled and bleary.
She smiled when she saw him. ‘Aye-aye, dirty stop-out.’
‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Touché.’ She threw her coat on the floor and left the room, returning with a carton of orange juice. ‘Where’s Moll?’
‘Gone to work,’ said Adam, folding the note and putting it in his pocket.
She took a big swig from the carton. ‘You two get it on last night?’
Adam stood up, felt his head pound. ‘None of your business.’
‘I’ll take that as a no.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Listen, just be careful, OK? She’s been through a fuck of a lot lately, and I don’t want you adding to her grief.’
‘I don’t intend to.’
‘I swear to God, if you upset her, I’ll rip your bollocks off and feed them to you.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘I mean it. You’ve no idea what she put up with from that wanker.’
‘I have some idea.’
‘No, you don’t. He used to hit her, and worse. Much worse. If you tell her I told you, it’ll be bollocks-on-a-plate time, you got me?’
‘Loud and clear.’
‘Good. I’m off to bed.’ She ran a hand through her straggly hair. ‘Tell Roddy if he wants to find me, I’m working in the Ardview tonight.’
‘We’re barred, remember?’
‘Oh yeah. Well, whatever.’
She left the room and Adam looked around for his jacket, pulling it on and heading out
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