Smokeheads (6 page)

Molly raised her eyebrows but didn’t speak, which Adam took as a cue to crack on.

‘There’s a derelict farmhouse distillery out at Stremnishmore, you know it?’

‘On the Oa?’

Adam nodded.

‘Heard of it, never been there, though. It’s pretty remote out that way.’

‘It’s perfect,’ said Adam, spreading everything out on the sofa between them. ‘I went to see it last time I was on the island, a lot of the equipment is still in decent condition. The owners are happy to sell. It still has a water supply from Loch Kinnabus, everything’s in place to get it going again. I’ve had a business plan put together and some quotes, reckon I can get the whole thing operational for a million pounds.’

Molly shuffled through the papers and photos, smiled and sipped. ‘Where are you going to get that kind of money?’

Adam looked down at his drink. ‘That’s why I’m here this weekend. I’m going to ask Roddy.’

‘Why bring him all the way here to ask?’

Adam looked up. ‘I just thought if he saw it he’d understand. He’s never been to Islay before. I hoped he’d get caught up in the spirit of the place.’

Molly looked through the stuff Adam had given her.

‘Do you think he’ll go for it?’ she asked.

Adam nodded. ‘It’s a good investment. There’s a growing market for Islay malts, even with the recession. Look at Bruichladdich and Kilchoman. Small boutique operations are springing up all over the place. This would be the only distillery on the Oa, with a distinct character all its own. I know enough about the whisky industry to market it properly. Obviously I’d need to employ the right people, but there’s lots of industry experience here on the island, I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem. I could even hire you.’

‘Getting carried away a wee bit, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you wait to see what he says?’

‘I think he’ll go for it, I really do. It’s not as if he doesn’t have the money.’

‘When are you going to ask?’

‘I’ve planned a surprise trip to the site tomorrow morning. Want to come?’

‘I wouldn’t want to get in the way.’

‘Not at all, having you there might help, knowing the locals are on board and all that.’

Molly looked doubtful.

‘You do think it’s a good idea, don’t you?’ said Adam.

Molly sifted through the paperwork and finished her whisky before answering. ‘I think it’s a great idea. I mean, I dreamed about doing something like this with Joe for years. But there’s so much to consider. It won’t be as easy as you think.’

‘I know it’s going to be hard work, but I really think I can make a go of it.’

Molly reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses.

‘Good luck.’

‘So you’ll come tomorrow?’

She looked him in the eye. ‘Sure, why not?’

Adam grinned and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to the Oa single malt, available in all good whisky shops in ten years’ time.’

They clinked glasses and sipped, the ancient smoke filling their chests. Eventually Molly spoke.

‘So, how did you get into whisky in the first place? I was brought up on Islay; what’s your excuse?’

‘My dad,’ said Adam. ‘He never really had extravagant tastes in anything else, but he always had a decent bottle of malt in the house. He used to work as an engineer at the local power station. I remember he would come in after a shift all hangdog and knackered, and the first thing he did was pour himself a stiff one. The change that came over him when he smelt that spirit then tasted it was amazing, like the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t about the alcohol, he didn’t have a drink problem or anything, he just loved what whisky represented, the release from the humdrum world of work into something more, I don’t know, spiritual, I guess, if you’ll excuse the pun.’

‘That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about their dad needing a drink to face his family,’ said Molly, grinning.

Adam laughed. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. He wasn’t drinking to forget, he was drinking to remember, to remember the beautiful complexity of the world, to treat himself to a glimpse of what the big wide world was like.’

‘And to get pissed.’

‘OK, and to get pissed.’ Adam raised his glass and drank. ‘He took me to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society on my eighteenth birthday. I’d been getting steaming for years before that on cheap lager 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.

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.

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 the door.

Outside it was a shivering, clear morning. Seaweed and brine smacked him in the face as he walked back to the B&B. He thought about what Ash said. Worse than beating your wife meant one thing, and his stomach knotted at the thought of it.

He remembered the punch from Joe then the feel of Molly’s lips, then tried to shake his mind clear to think about today. This morning was his big chance to persuade Roddy, to turn his life around, and here he was hungover and thinking about her.

He was on the beach now, plastic junk littering the sand. He could smell diesel and rotting fish mixed with the salty air and residual whisky fumes in his nose. He spotted Ethan leaning against a low wall outside the B&B, putting his mobile away.

‘How’s Debs?’

Ethan looked up and frowned. He seemed to size Adam up then decide something. ‘Not great, actually.’

‘No?’

Ethan sighed. ‘I never told you guys, but we’ve started IVF.’

‘Really?’

‘Three years we were trying for kids, no joy. All the tests came back fine, but it just wasn’t happening. It’s been frustrating.’

‘I can imagine.’

Ethan looked up. ‘With all due respect, I don’t think you can. Anyway, we started treatment, but she’s just found out the first cycle didn’t work.’

‘Shit, Ethan, I’m sorry.’

Ethan rubbed his temple and squeezed his eyes tight. ‘Two grand down the toilet, and we need to wait months to try again.’

‘Two grand?’

Ethan raised his eyebrows. ‘I know. I wouldn’t care about the money, but the shit’s hitting the fan at work as well.’

‘Yeah?’

He gave Adam a tired look. ‘You know what it’s like at the moment, RBS are all over the fucking news. They’re sacking nine thousand staff, you think that won’t affect us?’

‘I presumed you were safe.’

‘No one’s safe. Chat is that half our department is getting the chop. Chances are either me or Debs will get the bullet. Maybe both.’

‘Jesus, I had no idea.’

Ethan shook his head. ‘That’s because I don’t shoot my mouth off all day like some people we know. Honestly, Roddy’s got a real cheek having a pop at me last night about money and risks. It’s because of morons like him that me and Debs are in this mess. If either of us gets sacked, we’re screwed. Can’t pay the mortgage or the car loan, and we just wasted two thousand quid on some useless eggs.’

‘I’m sorry, Ethan, I really am.’

‘The stress won’t be helping Debs, either. She’s taking it all pretty badly. Maybe I should just head home.’

Adam shook his head. ‘You’re here now, you might as well try and make the most of it. Could be your last jolly in a while. You’ll be home by tomorrow night anyway. Would it really make that much difference to get back a day early?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Ethan took a deep breath and tried to smile. ‘So, I take it you’ve been at Molly’s all night?’

Adam made a noncommittal face.

‘She seems nice,’ said Ethan.

‘She is.’

‘That sister of hers is a loose cannon.’

‘Yeah, I just saw her,’ said Adam. ‘She threatened to rip my balls off.’

‘Sounded through the wall like she was doing that to Roddy all night.’ Ethan laughed then looked at Adam. ‘What about Molly’s ex?’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s a piece of work.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can’t believe we got barred from the only decent pub in town on our first night.’

‘That’s what happens if you fight a copper.’

‘He started it.’

Adam shrugged, the Clash song going through his head. They stood in silence, gulls gliding on thermals high overhead. Eventually Ethan spoke.

‘I know you all take the mick out of me for being a boring sod,’ he said. ‘Always checking in with the missus.’

‘We don’t.’

‘Come on, I’m not a bloody idiot. Just because I’m married and settled doesn’t mean I’m not the same person you were at uni with.’

‘I know that.’

‘It’s just that my priorities have changed, you know?’

‘Ethan, who the hell are we to take the piss out of you? You’ve got a proper, grown-up life, we’re all still dicking around like teenagers.’

More silence as the sun disappeared in a distant grey haze.

‘So what are we doing today?’ said Ethan after a while.

Adam looked at him. ‘I’ve got something special planned.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Take it easy,’ said Adam, hand braced against the glove compartment.

They were bumping over a rough single-track in the Audi, Roddy tanning it too fast over summits and round blind corners. If they met something coming the other way they were screwed. Molly was nestled between Luke and Ethan in the back, Snow Patrol blaring out of the speakers.

Roddy laughed. ‘I’ll slow down if you tell me where the fuck we’re going.’

Adam looked at him. ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘What’s the big fucking mystery?’

‘You’ll see soon enough.’

Adam looked at his watch. He pressed the button – 102 bpm. He took deep breaths and looked out the window. At least the weather was decent, clear cobalt skies above, just a murky grey cloudbank miles away to the west. It would hopefully show the distillery buildings in a good light. He felt his palm sweaty against the glove compartment and lifted it to see red lines where he’d been pressing. The car swung round a corner and he reached forward again. His other hand patted his jacket pocket, checking yet again that the business plans were still there. Serenity now.

They came over a rise and spotted a huge stone tower in the distance.

‘What’s the giant cock?’ said Roddy.

‘American Monument,’ said Molly, leaning forward.

‘What?’

‘Built to commemorate the people who died when an American ship was torpedoed by a German sub off the coast in 1918.’

‘And they thought a massive bell-end was appropriate?’

‘It’s supposed to look like a lighthouse.’

They drove on, glimpses of dark moorland on either side, peat bog then heather and bracken, rough, unwelcoming terrain all around.

Ethan struggled to unfold an OS map. ‘Where exactly are we?’

‘On the Oa,’ said Molly.

‘The what?’

‘The Oa.’

‘It sounds like you’re saying “The Oh”.’

Molly laughed. ‘I am.’

‘How do you spell it?’

‘O, A. Oa. The Oa.’

‘Oh, the Oa,’ said Ethan, smiling. He peered out the window. ‘Not much sign of life on the Oa.’

‘It’s the island’s most remote peninsula,’ said Molly. ‘Thousands used to live here, forced out in the Clearances.’

They passed a ruined farm, rough stone gable ends still standing, roof long since collapsed. Black-faced sheep chewed at grass tufts on both sides of the crumbled walls.

‘Apparently there are two whole abandoned villages on the Oa,’ said Molly. ‘Although I’ve never seen them. You can’t get to them by road.’

‘Does anyone still live out here?’ said Ethan.

‘A few farms, that’s about it.’

‘So where are we going?’

Molly looked at her lap.

‘You know, don’t you?’ said Ethan.

She shrugged.

‘Illicit still?’ drawled Luke.

‘What?’

‘All this wilderness, man, perfect peace and quiet for making peatreek, yeah?’

Molly laughed and shook her head. ‘Not any more, I don’t think. Used to be loads of bootlegging all over the island, but not for a long time.’

‘Why not?’

Molly lifted her shoulders.

‘Maybe nobody’s got the balls,’ said Roddy, changing up through the gears.

Molly and Adam shared a glance. Adam started to feel queasy as they got closer to their destination.

‘Buzzard,’ said Luke, eyes skywards.

A large brown bird was gliding high over a cliff, charcoal sea spraying against ragged rocks below.

Molly nodded. ‘A lot of the Oa is an RSPB reserve. There are golden eagles at the American Monument somewhere, but I’ve never spotted them.’

Luke raised his eyebrows.

‘Don’t get twitcher going,’ laughed Roddy. ‘He’ll spunk his pants if he sees golden fucking eagles.’

The car horn blared, making them all jump, then they braked sharply.

‘Fucking stupid sheep,’ shouted Roddy as a large ram sauntered off the track and onto the verge, wiggling its woolly arse in defiance.

The track got rougher, potholes and rocks scattered all over, no more passing places. To their left was a steep cliff down to the sea, on the right they passed the ruins of an old church, moss-covered gravestones jerking out at odd angles.

‘This really is the arse-end of nowheresville,’ said Roddy, looking out the window.

‘This is it,’ said Adam as they came over a blind summit and saw a spread of low grey buildings at the end of the road.