‘You think I can’t see you glaring at me?’ said Roddy into the rear-view mirror. ‘The silent treatment is schoolboy stuff, give it a fucking rest.’
‘Why don’t you give it a rest,’ said Adam quietly.
‘What?’
‘You haven’t shut up since we got to Islay. You’re a big coked-up bullshit machine, running on the sound of your own voice.’
‘Fuck you, dipshit.’
‘I think we all need to calm down,’ said Ethan. ‘Why don’t we just pretend this little outing never happened, OK?’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Adam, taking a big swig from the flask.
‘Guess what you’re drinking,’ said Roddy, laughing.
‘Go to hell,’ Adam snarled.
‘Go on, you know you want to.’
Furious as he was, Adam still couldn’t resist the challenge. He took a sniff then a sip. Hard to taste straight from the flask, pewter and polish contaminating the palate, but he got a massive raw boot of peat, at least 40 ppm, followed by green apples and mint, then syrup and raisins. It was impressive. Young and a bit showy, but huge body. He’d never tasted it before, but the gimmicky flavours suggested the one distillery where they were always dicking around with new expressions.
‘Bruichladdich,’ he said.
‘Go on.’
‘Peaty, but not enough to be the Octomore,’ he said. ‘A Port Charlotte?’
‘Which one?’
‘PC6?’
Roddy tilted his head. ‘I don’t know how you do it, it’s a fucking gift.’
‘Don’t patronise me, you fathead prick.’
‘I was paying you a fucking compliment.’
Adam chucked the flask into Roddy’s lap. ‘If you think I’m such a bloody expert, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and back me up?’
‘There’s a big difference between telling Caol Ila from Lagavulin and running your own business, trust me.’
‘I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re nothing but a self-centred jerk-off, looking out for number one.’
‘Of course I am, you’re the same, everyone is,’ said Roddy, glancing back. ‘The difference is, at least I’m fucking honest about it.’
‘I’m nothing like you,’ said Adam.
‘Yeah, you’re a fucking hypocrite,’ said Roddy. ‘You’re only upset because you didn’t get your own way back at the distillery. You’ve always been like that, a spoilt little arsehole with delusions of moral superiority.’
Adam was surprised to see his own fist moving fast towards the front of the car, clumsily catching Roddy on the side of the head somewhere behind his left ear.
‘Shit,’ said Roddy jerking forward and making the car lurch. ‘What the fuck?’
He looked round and swung his left arm wildly behind him, missing Adam but catching Ethan on the nose.
‘Ow,’ said Ethan, holding his hands to his face.
‘Jesus…’ said Molly.
‘Watch out, man,’ shouted Luke, bracing himself against the glove compartment.
They all turned and saw a large ram too close in front of them on the road, a sharp bend just ahead. The car swung violently as Roddy grabbed the wheel and lunged for the pedals, trying to regain control, but it was too late. They felt a huge jolt as they smashed into the ram, the car pitching sickeningly out of balance, spinning and skidding then tipping up onto its side, all in a blur, each of them trying to brace themselves for the impact, then suddenly they were upside down and tumbling, crunches, rips and screams filling the air as the car crumpled down the cliff side, Adam briefly noticing the thick, grey wall of cloud rolling in from the sea before he felt a sharp crack to his head, a white flash of incredible, burning pain, then everything went red then violet then black.
17
Soft, wet snowflakes landed on his face. How could it be snowing in the car?
He opened his eyes and felt a jabbing pain at the back of his head. He rubbed it with his hand, which came away sticky with a trickle of blood.
The sky above him was thick, grey and heavy with snow. Fat flakes fluttered casually down towards him, and he blinked as one landed on his eyelash.
He pushed himself up on his elbows. He was lying in spongy brown heather, and could smell the peat buried a few feet below. His body ached, a jarring stiffness greeting every muscle twitch. He gingerly moved each limb then rolled his neck, his actions only met with grumbles, nothing sharper.
He looked round. Behind him was a sheer rocky cliff, occasional mossy tufts poking out from pockets of scree. It was at least 150 feet high. In the other direction, the sea was shushing against the shore 100 feet below him, down an incline peppered with boulders and craggy outcrops.
He sat up further and saw he was on a shelf in the cliff, thirty feet of flat gorse and heather. He stood up. No sign of the others. He walked to the edge of the shelf and saw the Audi down below, mangled and upside down at a sharp angle, almost at the water’s edge. The front end was crumpled into nothing, the left-hand side of the frame missing to reveal the skeletal chassis underneath. He couldn’t see from here if anyone was still inside.
He looked at his watch. The face was smashed and the display blank. He pressed the button for the heart- rate monitor. Nothing. Serenity now.
He pulled out his mobile and pressed 999. No bars on the signal, but worth trying. He heard a beep and looked at the screen — ‘No network coverage’.
He checked the back of his head again. No new blood. He carefully edged his way down the slope towards the car. It was easier going than it looked from above, plenty of footholds and grips on the slanting rock face.
‘Molly? Guys?’
He waited, listening. No reply, just the wash of the sea, his own heavy breathing and the thud of his heart in his ears. He bustled down the slope, breaking into a jog as the gradient eased off, a shuddering pain through his body with every step.
The car sat on a tiny rocky beach. He reached the passenger side first but there was no one there. He leant in and saw Molly and Roddy across the other side, hanging upside down in their seat belts.
‘Molly, Roddy!’ he shouted. No answer. ‘Shit.’
He ran round to their side of the car and pulled on Molly’s door, but it was buckled in the frame and wouldn’t budge. He was standing in a rocky puddle of seawater, rainbowed with leaked petrol. He tried Roddy’s door but it was the same. He shouted again, no answer.
He ran back round the car, looking for Ethan or Luke on the way. No sign. He climbed in the passenger side at the back and slid over to Molly. Her hair was tangled over her face. He reached out, swept it back and stroked her cheek.
‘Molly? You OK? Please be OK.’
She blinked and moaned. ‘Shit.’
‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Just hang on.’
She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘What…’
‘Shhh, don’t worry about it. We had a crash. I’m going to get you out. Can you move your arms?’
She tentatively stretched them out in front of her. It was weird seeing her movements upside down.
‘OK, you’ll need to brace yourself against the roof of the car. You’re upside down. I’m going to release your
