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“Oh, aye? Me too?” Jamie asks.
“No, not you,” Ally says. “You’ve got to man the snug. And actually, Aidan, maybe we can celebrate later? I’d like to spend a bit of time with my lass to see how she’s doing. She had a shock this morning, after all.” He pats my leg then turns to Grace and David. “Is it all right with the two of you if I steal Emily away for a while? I appreciate you came here to be with her, but there’s somewhere I’ve been meaning to take her, and this seems like a good opportunity.”
Grace smiles, her shoulders rising and falling in a light shrug. “If Emily is okay with it, then of course it’s fine with me.”
“I’ve got a bit of work to do anyway,” David says.
“The three of us will do something fun once I’m back,” I promise. “There are a bunch of places around here I’m still to explore. I’ve not even properly seen Inverness yet! I’m curious to know what a Highland city is like.”
“Inverness is nice,” Aidan says. “You should definitely pay it a visit. And maybe tomorrow, Ally and I can take the three of you on an outdoor activity, to celebrate that our business idea is to become a reality?”
“I’d be up for a Highland adventure!” David says brightly.
“Good man!” The corners of Aidan’s lips curl into a grin. “It might even give you a bit of inspiration for a logo. You’re the only graphic designer we know, so Ally and I would like to send some work your way, if that’s all right. For now, though, Ally and Emily, you two go off and do whatever it is you want to do.”
“Cheers, mate. Although . . .” Ally turns to the bar. “Jamie, I know you said you had to watch the snug, but seeing as it’s quiet, could you take a wee break and give me and Emily a lift somewhere? Oh, and pick us up afterwards too? The place we’re going . . . er, it involves drinking.”
* * *
Jamie drops us at the Glen Garve Distillery, which is a short journey from Bannock and nestled in a beautiful part of the valley, the landscape somehow made more atmospheric by the dreary weather. I squeeze Ally’s hand as I take in the stunning stone building with the pagoda-style roof that’s typical of Scottish distilleries.
“That night in the Pheasant, you said you wanted to visit this place while you were here,” Ally reminds me. “So . . . let’s get out of this rain and head on in!”
Inside, we’re met by Kyle, a friendly and rather large man of about forty with a hearty handshake. “Welcome! You must be Emily. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, normally we run tours for bigger groups, but as a favour to Ally, I’m going to be taking just the two of you around today.”
“A private tour?” I glance at Ally with surprise.
He grins and casually slings an arm around me, giving me a quick squeeze.
Kyle tells us all about the art of making whisky, a word derived from the Gaelic for “water of life”. He guides us through the full process followed by the Glen Garve Distillery, which results in the drink I know and love. After learning about malting and mashing, we peer into fermentation tanks then visit the warm stillhouse, where huge copper stills heat the liquid to boiling point.
Afterwards, Kyle takes us to a warehouse filled with thousands of casks. The intoxicating scent of whisky delights my nose. The drink is matured for years here, the wood imbuing it with unique flavours. Kyle tells us about the “angels’ share”, the portion that is lost to evaporation during the ageing process—around two per cent per year. Since Glen Garve whisky is matured for so long, the total volume drops significantly before bottling, but that’s all part of what makes the final product so special.
At the end, Kyle presents Ally and me with three different samples from three different casks and encourages us to first smell then taste each of them. Together, we analyse the differences in aroma and flavour, then Ally and I thank Kyle and make our way to the distillery’s small bar, which reminds me of the snug at the Bannock Hotel. There, we order more whisky before sitting for a proper chat, just the two of us.
“Well, what did you think?” Ally wants to know.
“I loved it! Kyle couldn’t have been a better guide, and it was so special to get a private tour around the home of my favourite drink. Thanks for organising it. It was perfect.”
Ally beams and raises his glass. “If it’s not too forward of me, why don’t we drink to the memory of your father? After all, Glen Garve was his favourite too.”
We clink our glasses then sip the spicy, malty whisky.
“Mmm, good stuff.” Ally studies me for a moment. “Emily, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but can I ask how you’re feeling now? That magazine article . . . that must have come as some shock.”
“It did, but I was with Grace and David earlier, and now I’m with you, and I’m grateful for the company. But yes, it made clear to me I’ve still got some healing to do.”
“Aye, and you’re not the only one.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What’s on your mind?”
He inhales deeply, his chest expanding, then releases a long breath. “I’ve mentioned my rivalry with Robbie—it’s why I wasn’t sure about going to the resort today. Well, there’s some hurt there I’ve been clinging on to, and I’ve realised it’s time I let it go. Can I talk to you about it?”
I reach out and clasp his hand in mine. “Of course.”
“Thanks. It’s about . . . well, it’s about the night my parents died. It was Robbie who came across Maw and Da’s car, crashed into a tree at the side of the road. He’s the one who called the emergency services. He was . . . well, he was there with them at the end.”
Ally’s trying hard to keep his emotions in check, but he’s struggling under the surface—I can tell—so I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m here for him.
