The Dog Share. Fiona Gibson

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СКАЧАТЬ she said, nodding. ‘There’s malted barley, plus yeast, which we regard as the food element. And the last one?’ She looked around again at our expectant faces. ‘Love,’ she said finally, ‘by which I mean the patience and care that’s needed to make a distinctive whisky like ours.’ She paused as a skinny young man handed around samples of amber-coloured spirit. ‘And that’s it,’ our guide concluded. ‘Water, food and love. Isn’t that right, Harry?’ I caught the master distiller’s barely detectable eye-roll. I suspected he was too down-to-earth for that kind of flowery talk.

      ‘That was so interesting,’ Paul enthused as we left.

      ‘It really was,’ I agreed. ‘And what a swot you were with all your questions! Are you thinking of distilling your own whisky at home in our bath?’

      Paul grinned. ‘Why not? I mean, how hard can it be?’ I laughed, trying to shrug off a twinge of regret that we would be leaving the island tomorrow. The sharp, salty air filled my lungs, and Paul kissed the top of my head as we stopped to gaze out to sea. ‘Um, Suze, I’ve been thinking,’ he added. ‘When we get back home … well, I’d like to do something different.’

      I gave him a quick look. ‘You want to take up hiking?’ I asked with a smile.

      ‘Not exactly. I mean, I’ve loved it but …’ He wound an arm around my waist. ‘I mean a kind of work project.’

      Oh, Christ. For the past few months he’d been working at a gig equipment hire company in York. I’d been relieved that he seemed to have ‘settled down’, as my sister would have put it. ‘What d’you mean?’ I asked.

      ‘Well, um … you know my job’s just a tiding-over thing, don’t you?’

      ‘Is it?’ I studied his face.

      ‘Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.’

      I cleared my throat. ‘Yeah, okay, I get that. So, what’re you thinking about?’

      Dusk was falling and the sky was streaked with pink and gold. Paul pointed towards the cluster of buildings in the distance, their lights glimmering like stars. ‘What would you say if I suggested buying it?’

      ‘Buying it?’ I stared at him. ‘You mean the island?’ I was laughing now, awash with relief. For a moment I’d assumed he was being serious.

      ‘I mean it,’ he said quickly, ‘but I’m not talking about the island. Dad’s inheritance won’t quite stretch to that.’

      I blinked at him in confusion. ‘So what are you talking about?’

      He looked at me, clearly fizzing with anticipation, like a child with a secret they’re dying to share. ‘See the white building over there, down by the shore?’

      I nodded. ‘The distillery, you mean?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ A smile flickered across his lips. ‘It’s for sale, you know.’

      ‘Is it?’ My stomach shifted uneasily.

      ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘And the hotel sale should complete next week, so I could go for it …’ His father’s Fort William hotel, he meant, of which Paul was the sole beneficiary; there had also been a sizeable financial settlement, which had come through recently. Given Ian’s haphazard approach to business, Paul had been surprised that there had been anything at all.

      ‘Paul,’ I started, ‘you don’t really mean this, do you? I’m sorry, but I can’t take this seriously—’

      ‘Why not?’ He frowned, looking hurt.

      ‘Because …’ I paused. ‘Because you know nothing about distilling, do you? And it’s a highly specialised thing. That Harry guy, the master distiller – hasn’t he been doing that job for thirty-five years?’

      ‘Yeah, but Harry would still be there,’ Paul insisted, ‘and I wouldn’t need to actually do anything in a hands-on kind of way—’

      ‘Please tell me you’re not serious about this!’

      ‘I am. I really am,’ he said firmly.

      ‘It’s completely mad,’ I exclaimed. ‘You might as well buy a fishmonger’s for all you know about—’

      ‘I don’t want to buy a fishmonger’s,’ he cut in. ‘I want to buy a fantastic distillery that’s been doing brilliantly for decades now. I mean, it can’t possibly go wrong.’

      ‘My God, Paul.’ I placed a hand over my eyes momentarily as my sister’s question rang in my ears: Will he still be like this when he’s fifty? Sixty? For the rest of his life?

      He took my hand and kissed me gently on the lips. ‘It’d be an amazing adventure for us,’ he said firmly. ‘Please, my darling. Please say yes.’

       Chapter Two

      Back at home in York, I decided that my best plan of action was to throw myself into my work in the hope that Paul’s obsession would soon be forgotten. I wrote obituaries of actors, composers and a celebrated winemaker who had established a vineyard in Sussex. Her niche English wines had garnered accolades until her death at ninety-two.

      Since Sgadansay, everything I’d read about the drinks industry suggested at best the need for copious patience and experience, and at worst, that the wrong kind of booze can cause serious harm. For instance, I’d read that the first liquid to run off after distillation may contain methanol. Once ingested, this can turn into formaldehyde, which is useful for chemical loos and the preservation of corpses – but it’s not something you’d want to be swishing around your insides while you’re alive. It can severely damage the central nervous system, I’d read, and cause blindness and death.

      I knew Paul would laugh in my face if I mentioned this stuff, so instead I was trying to gently persuade him to reconsider what to do with his inheritance. ‘It could really make a difference to your future,’ I ventured as we lay in bed one night.

      ‘To our future,’ he said.

      ‘Well, yes. But maybe there’s something else you could invest in, that’s slightly less risky—’

      ‘It’s not risky,’ he insisted. ‘Okay, I might not be experienced but I’m committed and passionate. You know the owner’s keen to sell up and retire …’ I nodded mutely. We’d been over this already. ‘And he’s eager to pass it on to someone like me, who’ll bring a fresh approach, rather than a big conglomerate that’ll just gobble it up.’

      Since when was Paul committed and passionate about the spirits industry apart from – and I hated to concede that my mother was right – when it came to drinking the stuff?

      ‘I’m not jumping into this,’ he added. ‘I’ve been looking into it for months.’ We had already established that he’d lured me to the island under false pretences. ‘All I want to do is make more of the heritage and the island setting,’ he insisted. ‘And you’d be brilliant СКАЧАТЬ