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Heather part groaned, part laughed and they fell into conversation about the night I recalled well. I remembered finding them stumbling along Cairnwell Lane after Heather phoned, interrupting the two thousand-piece puzzle I was close to finishing, begging me to pick them up and not tell Dad. Heather was vomiting behind a post box by the time I got there, April diligently attempting to hold her hair back. They’d been drunk and giggly the entire drive to the manor, and I’d deduced somewhere along the way that April had snuck a bottle of Kier’s whisky to take to the party.
Hopping to her feet now, April efficiently rolled her mat away.“I’ll be down in fifteen, I need a quick shower.” And… that image would be forever lodged in my mind.
“I thought you always bottled every other Friday?” Heather asked as soon as we were alone.
I shifted, occupying myself by taking a dirty mug from the table to the sink and rinsing it out.“Jacob couldn’t work this Friday,” I lied quickly, incriminating Jacob, our master distiller.“And if April is serious about learning the business, it’s important she understands every stage of the process.”
Her arms folded on the island opposite me, rolling her lips between her teeth and smiling in that way she knew irritated me, like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to share and it was going to bring the whole damn house down around her.“So it wouldn’t be because April’s doing an admin day on Friday but you knew she was excited about seeing that part for herself?”
That was exactly it.“Nope. As I said, Jacob had to switch out his day.”
Her lips pressed together again and I felt like cling film, I was that transparent.“That’s fine, keep your secrets, brother.”
As soon as I uncorked the cask, April squeaked, leaning infor a closer look.“How long has this one been maturing?”
“Almost four years.”
She’d changed before she got here, swapping out the yoga leggings that made my eyes cross for another one of her little suits. This one was pale pink, a colour that should have clashed with her hair but didn’t. I’d thanked the current cold snap when she strolled in wearing trousers instead of her usual tiny shorts until she’d turned to take in the space and I saw the way they moulded to her arse.
“I thought it only had to be three years?” She looked up at me and I made a point of staring just above her eyes. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, it was like that bloodygrannydressing gown had sapped all of my good sense.
“Three years is the minimum legal requirement, but the longer you let it mature, the smoother the whisky becomes. We have casks that are almost forty years old.”
“Forty years? I don’t have that level of patience.”
“Whisky is all about patience. Now—” I forced us back on track. She had a way of distracting me without even trying.“Each barrel will lose a percentage of liquid as it matures, that’s what we call the angel’s share—”
“Angel’s share. That’s adorable.”
“It’s not supposed to be adorable it’s… never mind, once the cask is open, it’s emptied in the trough.” I hit the big green button with my foot and the conveyor belt shifted, all four barrels rolling at once, emptying into the deep trough below.
“You mix several casks together?”
The fact she’d even noticed blew my mind. When we hired new workers, passion was always the most important part of an application. The hours were long and the work hard. In a small community, passion wasn’t always available and you were forced to hire the only capable pair of hands. April had the passion and I wasn’t even certain she was aware of it. I’d accused her of being a princess, and if she was on a mission to prove just how wrong I’d been, she was succeeding with flying colours.
“Most whiskies, even a single malt, are blended. It allows us to achieve a higher level of consistency.”
“Right.” She nibbled her lower lip, storing away that information.“Then what happens?”
I pointed to the pipes running from the trough.“These pipe it to the storage and blending tanks.”
“So once you’ve mixed it, how do you ensure it tastes the same every time?”
“That would be my job, lass.” Jacob’s heavy tread echoed off the steps as he ducked through the door, already pulling his arms from his worn corduroy jacket.
April startled, clearly not expecting the newcomer. Then she caught sight of him.“I remember you.”
“Aye, that’s good, otherwise you’d have broken this old codger’s heart.” In two steps he caught April up in his arms and pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek.
She drew back, flashing him that megawatt smile I was only used to seeing in photos.“How have you been, Jacob?”
“Good, lass. Real good. Not as good as you, I expect.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, though I noticed she didn’t confirm or deny. Instinct flared, that one that told me April wasn’t quite as content as she wanted the world to believe. Perhaps she wasn’t as adept at hiding it as she thought she was. Perhaps I noticed because it was the same look reflected back at me in the mirror every morning. Or perhaps I noticed because, deny it as I might, I noticed every little thing about her.
“Started without me, did you?” Jacob said with a good nature I couldn’t return.
“I need to show April the bottling process.”
