Smokeheads by Doug Johnstone

up to in Los Angeles. Without his mum there, Christmas was just silence and sadness, a reminder of what was missing as well as a glimpse into his own future, a string of lonely meals into old age.
    Molly sat on one of the sofas and motioned for him to join her.
    ‘Still, at least my folks dying gave me the kick up the arse to leave Joe,’ she said. ‘Ash was still living here with them and she lost the plot. I had to look after her. I had an excuse to get out.’
    She sipped and Adam did likewise.
    ‘What do you think?’ she said, nodding at his glass.
    ‘Very fresh,’ he said. ‘I get lemon, rosewater and almonds amongst the seaweed and smoke.’ He paused. ‘The finish has great balance.’
    ‘Doesn’t it? I’m sure I get some heather and coffee in there too.’
    Adam took another sip. ‘Yeah, I can see that. Like coffee-flavoured chocolates or something.’
    ‘Exactly.’ Molly smiled and looked at her glass. ‘You realise this whisky is older than we are? That’s kind of incredible to think about, isn’t it?’
    ‘It is.’
    She looked at the picture of her parents then got up and opened a door on the cabinet to reveal an old turntable. She lifted an album from alongside and put it on, lazy jazz emerging.
    ‘My dad’s records,’ she said. ‘This is Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. I’m sure half the reason he liked Dizzy was because we had the same surname. He used to call me “Little Dizzy” when I was wee.’
    ‘You must miss them a lot.’
    Molly sat down. ‘I’ve had plenty of other shit on my plate. The divorce, looking after Ash. Sometimes it feels like I’ve never really had time to mourn.’
    There was silence between them, washed by flowing trumpet lines.
    ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said after a while. ‘How the hell did I get hooked up with a bastard like Joe?’

    Adam shook his head.
    ‘I wonder myself, every day,’ she said. ‘But he wasn’t always like he is now. He was sweet and caring in the beginning, full of ideas and energy. All that stuff Ash said in the pub about his dad was true, but he never seemed affected by it initially, never let it get him down. We used to stay up all night making plans. This sounds stupid now, but we used to have this crazy idea about starting up our own distillery, fixing up one of the old disused places and running it as a small family business.’
    Adam felt his pulse race as his hand came up to check the papers in his jacket pocket.
    ‘That doesn’t sound stupid at all,’ he said, trying to keep his voice level.
    ‘But somehow all those dreams faded.’ Molly sighed and looked up. ‘You don’t want to hear all this.’
    Adam wanted to keep her talking so that he could keep looking in her beautiful eyes. ‘I don’t mind.’
    ‘When he joined the police, that was the start of it.’ Molly was whispering now. ‘He didn’t want to follow his dad originally, but he couldn’t get decent work anywhere else, and the force was great pay and conditions. I tried to talk him out of it, but he joined anyway. Somehow he gradually became hard, like his dad, as if it was a competition. Eventually we got to the stage where we never talked about plans or dreams any more. When his mum died, he shut me out, this big macho thing about taking the pain on his own.’
    Adam swallowed heavily. ‘What did Ash mean about the way he treated you?’
    Molly hesitated and looked away.
    ‘Forget I asked,’ said Adam.

    ‘No, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘We tried to have kids, but it didn’t go well. I had three miscarriages.’
    ‘Christ, Molly.’
    She shrugged. ‘Happens all the time, it’s much more common than you think. But Joe didn’t take it well, he blamed me. He drank a lot and started getting abusive. Shouting and screaming at first, then …’
    Adam reached for her hand but she pulled it away. He didn’t know what to say or do, so he just raised his glass and sipped.
    ‘Anyway, it’s all in the past now,’ she said,