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He had refused to answer. He couldn’t even look her in the eye.
He had left her there, on the sofa, sobbing her heart out and feeling that her heart had broken forever. As he’d closed the door he’d repeated,I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t handle the heartbreak. It’s too much.
And so, now, Liz was alone. And the photograph in the game show of her life as a mother – the little girl with her hair in corduroy overalls and wonky pigtails, and Liz next to her – was ripped into tiny pieces.
ONE
Liz Parsons stood outside the door to the distillery for a moment before she stepped inside.
Today, she was beginning again, and though she had made many brave new starts in her life, they never got any easier. Yet, this was agoodnew start: a new job as Sales Director at a family-owned whisky distillery, in a tiny little village called Loch Cameron.
Liz had experienced too many failures in the past few years; she had built her hopes up again and again, only to have them dashed when her fertility treatment didn’t work. So, now, she hoped that this job – which had meant she’d had to move her whole life away from Glasgow to a tiny Highlands village – was something new that she could hold onto.
The job offer couldn’t have come at a better time. She had wanted a child so much. But it hadn’t happened. And it wasn’t going to happen with Paul, now.
Liz felt tears well up inside her and fought them down. She couldn’t start her new job crying: what would they think of her?
This isn’t the time,she told herself firmly.Of all the times, this is definitely not it.
But it was all still so raw. Even though Liz wasn’t on IVF’s punishing schedule anymore – taking hormones, having scans, having the eggs extracted, fertilised and transferred – she still felt hyper emotional. She missed Paul. But he had made it perfectly clear that he wanted out.
Ironically, that meant that Liz had not gone forward with the fourth round of IVF, which was what Paul had wanted.
But, right now, she had to focus on her first day at Loch Cameron Distillery.
She pushed the old wooden door, noticing that the paint was flaking off a little and the hinges were beginning to rust.
That’s something that needs repair,she thought.Can’t have the entrance to your business looking anything other than perfect.
The building itself was a long, whitewashed Scottish farmhouse with the name of the distillery painted in huge block white letters on its black slate roof. Liz was going in at the main entrance which had huge wooden double doors, painted black apart from where it needed a touch up. To the side of the main building, there were a number of matching white outbuildings with black window frames and doors, and a tall red brick building that stood alone in the middle. Liz guessed that was the main distilling area.
Liz walked inside, into an open reception area where a woman sat at an old-fashioned wooden desk, in front of a glass floor-to-ceiling panel that displayed the logo of the distillery: LOCH CAMERON DISTILLERY, EST. 1785 against the image of a castle. That would be Loch Cameron Castle, she imagined; she’d seen it from afar, a brooding grey stone structure on one side of the loch.
‘Hi. I’m Liz Parsons. I’m starting as Sales Director today.’ Liz held out her hand to the woman, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling of nerves in her stomach.
‘Ah, great. We’re expectin’ ye, of course.’ The woman stood up and took Liz’s hand, shaking it vigorously. ‘Welcome tae Loch Cameron Distillery!’
‘Thank you.’ Liz gave the receptionist a firm handshake in return.
‘I’m Carol. I’ve been on reception fer twenty years,’ the woman explained. ‘No’ without a break, mind! Haha. Would ye like a tea or coffee? I dinnae think they’re ready fer ye just yet.’
‘Oh, that’s okay, I can make myself a coffee.’ Liz looked over at the clunky self-service drinks machine that stood in one corner. ‘No trouble.’
‘Pffft. You will not.’ Carol looked scandalised. ‘Let me make ye a proper one. That’s just fer ordinary visitors.’ She bustled into a kitchen off the side of the reception area, beckoning Liz to follow her. ‘We’ve got a proper Italian machine in here,’ she explained. ‘Ben insisted.’
‘Ben Douglas?’ Liz knew he was the owner and CEO of the distillery, a family business. He’d interviewed her online, though their talk had been pretty brief. Frankly, Liz had been amazed when she’d been offered the job.
‘Aye. He likes gadgets.’ Carol sailed into the small but cosy kitchen that adjoined the reception. She was probably coming up to sixty, though Liz was terrible at guessing people’s ages. She was tanned and slim, and dressed nicely in a skirt suit with a pale blue blouse underneath the jacket: Liz thought that she looked like someone who enjoyed her holiday in the sun every year, and kept busy.
‘How is he as a boss?’ Liz asked, following her. The little kitchen was very well appointed, with a gleaming silver espresso machine which sat proudly on top of a white marble worktop. The kitchen units were also white, in a cottage style which fitted the feel of the white distillery buildings outside with their black trim.
To one side of the coffee machine, which Carol started operating expertly, there was a smart, glass-fronted wine fridge, full of champagne and white wine. Next to that was a shelf displaying a row of Loch Cameron Distillery twenty-year-old whisky.
‘Ach, he’s fine, bless him,’ Carol trilled as she flicked switches and steamed milk. ‘Sweet boy, nothin’ like his faither. Mind ye, not really a boy anymore, but that’s me showin’ ma age. Now. Espresso, cappuccino, americano? I’m havin’ a cappuccino.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll have the same.’ Liz smiled.
Liz had been grateful to have the opportunity to have an online interview rather than come to the distillery in person. It had been a tough couple of months, with Paul moving out and her old firm squeezing every last bit of work out of her before she finished up her notice period. The distillery was a good couple of hours’ drive from Glasgow and, if she was honest, she hadn’t felt up to attending in person at the time.
