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.
15
‘What the fuck are we supposed to be seeing?’ said Roddy getting out of the car.
A straggle of tired buildings was strung in a crescent facing the muddy clearing where they’d parked. Paint peeled from window frames and doors and the whitewash was filthy grey from the battering of the elements.
‘Potential,’ said Adam. ‘Follow me.’
He walked towards the nearest of the buildings, digging keys out of his pocket. He undid a padlock and opened the old wooden door.
‘Come on,’ he said, ducking inside.
The rest of them looked at each other then followed.
Inside, Adam stood next to a table strewn with bits of paper. Behind him were three large copper stills linked by a gantry and metal stairs, the familiar witch’s-hat shapes linked by tarnished pipes. The floor was covered in birdshit and bits of masonry, and as they entered a pigeon made a flustered flap into the rafters. Thin light through a high window picked out dust dancing in the air.
‘Well,’ said Adam. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’ve brought us to a shithole at the end of the world,’ said Roddy.
‘It’s a disused distillery,’ said Ethan. ‘So what?’
Luke’s eyes lit up. ‘An illegal still, man.’
Adam smiled. ‘There will be nothing illegal about it. This is Stremnishmore distillery. I plan to buy it, renovate it and turn it into a working proposition again. I’m going to make whisky. I’ve got it all worked out, look.’
He waved excitedly at the plans, bills and forms on the table.
‘The owners have agreed to sell me the place and I’ve got quotes for the renovation work, licence agreements sorted, the lot. I’ve even got suppliers and distributors lined up, plus a handful of possible employees from the island.’
‘You’re serious,’ said Ethan.
‘Deadly,’ said Adam. ‘This is the big chance to do something with my life. You all know how passionate I am about whisky. This is my chance to actually do something about it instead of rotting in that stupid shop forever.’
‘Cool,’ said Luke, nodding.
Roddy was shaking his head and grinning. ‘You’re going to own and run your own distillery?’
Adam looked at him and took a breath.
‘I was kind of hoping we would own it together.’
‘What?’
‘Wouldn’t it be amazing?’ said Adam. ‘Imagine our bottles sitting next to Laphroaig and Ardbeg in the Islay section of whisky shops.’
Roddy narrowed his eyes. ‘How much?’
‘What?’
‘I presume you’re asking me to invest in this pipedream, so cut the bullshit and tell me how much.’
‘The thing is…’
