Smokeheads by Doug Johnstone Page A

looking round and taking a deep breath. She waved an arm. ‘So this is where me and Ash live.’
    ‘You don’t seem to have much in common with her.’
    ‘She’s changed a lot since Mum and Dad died.’
    ‘You lost your parents too.’
    ‘It’s harder for her, she’s eight years younger than me. I have to look out for her. She used to make jewellery, you know, beautiful silverware. She was going to set up her own company. Now she just works in the pub, drinks herself stupid every night and fucks whoever’s in front of her.’
    ‘And what about you?’
    ‘You mean who do I fuck?’
    ‘Shit, that’s not what I meant at all,’ he said, flustered.
    ‘I’m winding you up.’
    ‘Thanks. I meant what do you want to do with your life?’
    ‘As opposed to being a shitty little tour guide?’
    ‘No, no, working at Laphroaig is great, I just mean …’
    ‘You’re quite easy to wind up.’
    Adam pressed the button on his watch and sneaked a look.
    ‘You leaving?’ said Molly.

    ‘I wasn’t looking at the time.’
    ‘Then what?’
    He sighed. ‘My watch has a heart-rate monitor on it.’
    ‘Really?’ she said, holding his wrist for a better look. ‘What’s the damage?’
    ‘105 bpm.’
    ‘Holy shit, are you an alien or something?’
    ‘Very funny.’
    ‘I mean it,’ she laughed, placing a hand on his chest. ‘Are you running the hundred metres in there?’
    He liked the feel of her touch, could smell her perfume mingling with the fumes from his whisky glass. She let go of him and sipped her dram.
    ‘Actually, I’m taking night classes at Bowmore High,’ she said.
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Chemistry and maths. Never did much school first time round. Working at the distillery, though, I realised I’ve got a pretty good palate. I figured maybe in the long run I could do chemistry at uni and try for a job with one of the big drinks guys, or even better as a stillman or master distiller.’
    ‘That would be amazing.’
    ‘It’s a pipedream.’
    ‘I think you’d be fantastic at it. Like you say, you’ve got a beautiful palate.’
    ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’ She smiled then shrugged. ‘My dad worked in the warehouse at Lagavulin his whole life, had to retire when he knackered his hip. He would be so proud if I managed to make something of myself.’
    ‘I’m sure he’d be proud of you no matter what you do.’
    ‘Maybe.’ She sipped her whisky. ‘You know in the old days they used to hand out several drams a day to all distillery staff, to stop them stealing bigger amounts of the stuff? Cask strength, too. My dad got pissed every day at work for thirty years.’
    Adam nodded. He’d heard the stories, but never really believed them.
    ‘They basically created an island full of alcoholics,’ said Molly, shaking her head.
    There was silence for a moment.
    ‘So what about you?’ she said.
    ‘You mean, am I an alcoholic?’
    Molly smiled. ‘No, I mean do you want to work in a whisky shop your whole life?’
    Adam felt his heart thud against his ribs. ‘Actually, I have big plans.’
    ‘Do tell.’
    ‘You’ll laugh.’
    ‘Try me.’
    ‘It’s quite a coincidence, really, considering what you were just talking about.’
    ‘You’re going to become an alcoholic?’
    ‘Not exactly.’
    ‘Come on, out with it.’
    He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out creased papers, plans and photos and began to unfold them in front of her.
    ‘I want to open a distillery here on Islay.’

12
     
     
    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