by Karen Swan
They’d done zero hours of work together in that time, but how much had happened to her? She felt almost unrecognizable to herself, seemingly lurching from one crisis to the next from the moment she’d set foot on this island. Losing her clothes had been the least of it – she felt she’d lost her professionalism, dignity and pride too. Some of her troubles were her fault, some not, but Lochlan Farquhar was feasting on it, drawing strength from her rare weakness.
She straightened up, feeling another wave of nausea rise from her stomach. She breathed it back down – her yoga mentor would be surprised to find her deploying the deep-breathing techniques for this particular scenario – and focused on finding the positives. After all, it wasn’t all going Lochlan Farquhar’s way. She had allies here already: his ex-fiancée for one, and Mrs Peggie had been a stalwart this morning, demonstrating great charity by bringing up her breakfast – and an Alka-Seltzer – on a tray to her room. Mrs Peggie had even gone as far as running an Epsom salts bath so hot Alex had thought she might faint when she first got in; but the steam had opened her pores and she had sweated out whatever lingering alcohol she hadn’t already thrown up, trying to stitch together mind, body and pride, whilst Mrs Peggie had stripped the bed to get rid of the whisky fumes.
She looked back at the dark windows of Lochlan’s office. If he was standing in there watching her, she couldn’t see him; the lights weren’t on. He probably saw this as another victory but she, crucially, knew one thing he didn’t: that what separated ‘them’, her clients, from ‘the rest’ was what separated him from her right now: adaptability. He had no idea what it had taken her (on a personal level) to come back here and face him, but she had done it nonetheless; her humility was proof in point of adapting her behaviour to the scenario in hand and in so doing, dismantling its power. By squaring up to him, she had put last night behind them now and it was no longer something he could wield against her.
She frowned at the shadowy glass panes. She always told her clients the fastest way past a problem is through it, but she wasn’t sure the fastest way past his problems was through them; it was becoming clear that directness wasn’t the key, A didn’t necessarily lead to B with him. She needed to find another way in.
Lost in thought, she began to walk, heading towards the blending lab at the back of the visitors’ centre. There was someone else she needed to face too.
‘Hey!’
The shout made her turn; the sight of the man running towards her made her sigh.
‘Oh, great, just what I need,’ she mumbled under her breath. She waited for him with a patient smile. ‘Callum. What a pleasant surprise.’
His face fell as he took in her words. His name. ‘Ah. So the cat’s out of the bag then?’
She suppressed a sigh. Was he for real? Did he honestly think his joke hadn’t been exposed in the intervening days? ‘Yes, Callum, of course it is. Well done on your little gag. You completely deceived me.’
‘Ah, well now, strictly speaking I didn’t actually.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, if you remember, you came over and introduced yourself and said I must be Mr Farquhar – which of course I am. I didn’t so much deceive you as just go along with your assumption.’
She sighed. ‘You knew perfectly well I was looking for Lochlan.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. Because you tried to give me a tour of the distillery, even though you barely knew the name of a single person working there or what anything did.’
‘It’s true it’s never been a raging passion of mine, understanding the mashing tuns,’ he quipped, hoping his infectiously devilish grin would elicit one from her.
It nearly did; instead, with a brisk businesslike nod, she turned and carried on walking.
‘Wait—’
‘Callum,’ she said as he fell into step with her. ‘I realize it was highly amusing for you but I am actually here to work.’
‘You can’t blame a guy for trying.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Trying my patience?’
‘Trying to get your attention.’
She blinked. ‘Here’s a tip for you – not all attention is good.’
‘But Alice—’
‘It’s Alex,’ she corrected, speeding up to a march.
‘What about that dinner?’ he called after her as she reached the doors of the visitors’ centre.
‘There is no dinner,’ she called back, flinging them open with a breezy smile.
‘But—’
‘No dinner, Callum.’ And she let the doors swing shut behind her, leaving him standing.
‘She’s in the sample room, last door at the end of the corridor there.’ The young guy at the till pointed towards the double doors at the back. ‘Uh . . . is she expecting you?’
‘Yes,’ Alex assured him, already walking off. With her armour back on, no one dared question her authority. At least – none who hadn’t seen her turfed out on her ear from the CEO’s office on two of the last three days.
Skye had her back to the door when Alex peered through the glass. Her ponytail was swinging lightly as she moved around a counter laden with small glass bottles, each one filled with whisky of a different hue – some a light caramel colour, others a deep marmalade. She was pouring them into a tall round glass cylinder, about a metre high.
‘Hey.’ Alex timed it so that she didn’t introduce herself whilst Skye was measuring out but still—
‘Oh!’ Skye cried, whirling round. ‘You startled me.’
‘Sorry.’ Alex gave an apologetic smile from the doorway.
‘No, no,’ Skye said, shaking her head and putting down the vial, clearly shocked by the sight of her. ‘It’s my own fault. I get so lost in the process, I . . .’ Her voice trailed away, leaving only the blushes on her otherwise pale cheeks and she chewed her lip nervously. ‘How are you?’
Alex walked into the room. ‘Well, the liver transplant was a success.’
Skye burst out laughing, her hands on her cheeks as embarrassment and mortification blended. ‘Oh my God, I am so sorry,’ she cried with relief. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got carried away. I feel so terrible—’
‘You mustn’t. I had a great time,’ Alex laughed.
Skye’s hands dropped down. ‘Really?’ she asked, grimacing doubtfully.
‘Really.’
‘I thought you were going to hate me.’
‘For plying me with exceptional whisky and reminding me just how good the Police were? I don’t think so.’
Skye gave an abashed grin. ‘I saw Lochie in the car park. He said you wouldn’t be coming in today—’
‘In his dreams!’ Alex chuckled. ‘But he wasn’t too happy to see me, that’s for sure.’
‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m having a nightmare day too. I’ve got to sample almost five hundred malts.’
‘Five hundred whiskies?’ Alex asked, astounded.
‘I mean, obviously we spit, but still . . .’ She gave a shudder.
‘You have to sample five hundred whiskies, on a whisky hangover? But that’s akin to torture surely?’
‘I know,’ Skye groaned, dropping her head in her hands. ‘It serves me right.’
There was a small, slightly shy, pause as she looked at Alex through her fingers. Her hands dropped down again. ‘And you got your clothes back, I see,’ she said in surprise, indicating Alex’s expensively quiet clothes.
‘Yes.’ Alex rolled her eyes. ‘Finally! I have the best PA in the world. I’m going to have to give her a good bonus – I’m sorry to say I drunk-texted her at one in the morning demanding an emergency delivery. God help me if she ever leaves me.’
‘Well, it was worth it, you look amazing.’
‘Oh. Thank you. It’s a bit dull really,’ she demurred, pulling at the six-ply cashmere dismissively. ‘Nowhere near as gorgeous as the clothes you had lined up for me; I can’t believe I forgot to take them with me when I left. That was the whole point of last night,
after all!’
‘Well, the starting point maybe,’ Skye grinned.
‘Listen, I’m afraid your lovely gold skirt got soaked on the way back home. I’m going to have to get it dry-cleaned if you don’t mind waiting a bit.’
‘Oh, please don’t worry about that.’
‘The pleats need to be pressed back in. But I’ll get it back to you asap.’
‘There’s really no need.’
‘I insist,’ Alex smiled.
Skye shrugged, unwilling to argue further.
‘So what are you working on?’ Alex asked, walking up to the counter.
‘Well, this is a custom blend for a Russian client. Or rather, his wife’s the client but it’s her husband’s fiftieth birthday and she wants a blend that will mirror his character.’ Alex waved her arm out, indicating the counter laden with bottles.
‘He sounds complicated then,’ Alex said, arching an eyebrow at the multitude. ‘That’s a lot of whiskies to choose from.’
‘Aye, I’m using fifty.’ She sighed wearily. ‘Fifty whiskies to whittle down from five hundred.’
‘Fifty whiskies to make just one? Hang on, I thought Kentallen didn’t do blends?’
‘Only for special commissions. And this is going to be my last project for Kentallen so I want to make a good job of it.’ Skye smiled, pushing her glasses gently back up her nose and touching the bottles tenderly. ‘This one’s a fifty-year-old single malt I’m using for the base.’
‘How on earth do you know where to begin?’ Alex asked in awe.
‘Years of experience.’
‘But you’re so young!’
‘Aye, but my father’s been training me since I was twelve.’
‘He must be sad that you’re leaving.’
‘I think a little, yes, but he recognizes it’s a step up for me. After all, if he’s not going to give up the gig here, I’ve got no choice but to move.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And it wouldn’t feel right going to one of the other Islay distilleries. Kentallen’s in my blood.’
‘That’s very loyal of you. They must be really sorry to see you go.’
Skye looked uncomfortable. ‘Aye, well . . . some more than others, perhaps.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Alex said, realizing her slip. In all the fog of her hangover and her own embarrassment, she’d completely forgotten that Lochie had jilted the poor girl. ‘I said that without thinking. I didn’t mean to—’
‘No, it’s fine. We’ve all had time to get used to the idea.’
Alex watched her, suddenly realizing that she potentially had an ‘in’ here. She was going to need to interview key members of the management team anyway, but Skye was his ex-fiancée – she knew him better and more intimately than any person here. ‘Skye, look . . . I’m here to help Lochie as you know; and I know it can’t be a secret to you that he’s treading a thin line with the board at the moment. But he’s being really tricky. He won’t even talk to me and I need to find some sort of way in.’ She hesitated. ‘Can I ask you a few questions about him?’
‘Like what?’ Skye asked, looking apprehensive.
‘Well, I mean, it can’t have been easy continuing to work here with him. For him.’ Alex found it hard to believe that if he couldn’t even bring himself to be professional or civil to her, he could have behaved well to the woman he’d left practically at the altar.
‘No, it’s been . . . tricky,’ Skye sighed. ‘It’ll be good to go somewhere new and start afresh, you know? No baggage.’
‘Has he made things difficult for you? Undermined you? Passed you over for promotion? That kind of thing?’
There was a pause and for Alex, that was telling enough. ‘Well, most of the time he just swerves me; he basically tries to avoid having anything to do with me whatsoever,’ Skye said diplomatically.
Alex nodded, seeing how she had folded her arms around herself, making herself smaller – a classic low-power pose. How much did his silent treatment have to do with her leaving, she wondered? Skye had self-deprecatingly said she always followed her men, but was it not more the case that she was running from one now? Her ex-fiancé was the big cheese where she worked. Surely the situation was untenable and she was effectively being driven out? Alex had already experienced quite enough of his bullying and harrying behaviour herself, to be able to imagine the full truth of his and Skye’s scenario.
‘But it doesn’t matter,’ Skye shrugged – loyally. ‘Anything to do with the sampling, he deals with my father. I rarely need to report to him directly; I’m not senior enough.’
‘But has he cut you out of meetings, memos?’ Alex pressed. ‘Because you know, you’ve got rights. He can’t do that.’
‘Well, like I said, Dad’s the big honcho in this department so he goes to all the senior management meetings and stuff. No, it’s more, if he’s looking for my dad, he won’t come in here if he sees that I’m in here on my own; and he eats lunch in his office now instead of the canteen. That kind of thing.’
Alex nodded but she still wasn’t convinced Lochie hadn’t jockeyed Skye from her post. Not that she needed proof of his poor behaviour or inadequate management skills – that wasn’t why she was here. ‘Would you say he’s isolating himself from the staff?’
Skye sighed. ‘Aye.’
‘Has he changed since your break-up?’ Skye was still for a moment, and when she didn’t answer, Alex added, ‘It’s just I’ve heard he’s irritable, short-tempered, unapproachable, unpredictable . . . I get the impression people don’t know where they stand with him any more.’
‘He’s all those things, but I don’t think it’s down to us breaking up. He was becoming all those things when we were together; when his dad was dying.’
‘I see. When was that?’ Sholto had said the same at their first meeting.
‘A year and a half ago now. He took it bad.’ Skye bit her lip, staring into space. ‘He was so angry, starting arguments all the time – nothing I ever did was good enough. It was like he wanted to push me away. And then he started doing all this stuff on his own, shutting me out of his life – training for triathlons, mountaineering, kayaking, shooting, stalking . . .’
Before finally letting the blade fall and jilting her, Alex thought, nodding sympathetically.
‘What about his mother? Is he close to her?’
‘She died when he was sixteen.’
‘Oh.’ So then the only child had become an orphan, truly alone in the world? ‘That explains a lot then.’
‘That’s what I tried to tell him – all this rage inside him is because he never handled his grief for his mother; he adored her. And then losing his father too . . . It was too much for him.’
‘But he didn’t want to hear it,’ Alex murmured, not surprised in the least. To say he was out of touch with his feelings was like stating that an elephant was heavy. ‘This is all really interesting to hear, thanks, Skye. At least it identifies his vulnerabilities. It’s proof he is actually human. I’ve been trying to get some traction with him but he won’t even sit down with me, much less talk. This is my third day on the island and so far the only conversations we’ve had have been arguments.’ She pulled a face.
Skye sighed. ‘Well, he’s a stubborn bugger, all right. You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.’
‘Right. Which is why I need to find a way to make him want to work with me.’
‘I don’t know what to say. He’s so bloody-minded.’
‘Sholto told me—’
‘Oh, well, that’s your problem right there. He and Sholto hate each other. If he thinks you’re working for him, he’ll make a point of defying you.’
‘Even at the risk of cutting off his nose to spite his face?’
‘Exactly so.’
Alex sighed. Usually the hard work came when they began working, not beforehand. He was the client from hell – alone and lonely, aloof and remote, isolated and angry. If it wasn’t for Alex herself, she’d have said he was his own worst enemy.
‘Alex.’
She turned to find Callum leaning against the wall. Had he been waiting for her all that time? ‘Callum,’ she said with a tight smile, feeling inwardly exasperated. Had she not been clear enough? How many times—?
‘I’ve got a proposition for you,’ he said, pushing himself off with one foot and sauntering towards her.
‘I’m afraid I’m busy. I need to find your brother and have a sit-down with him.’
‘Torquil’s not here. Off site with the bank today.’ He winked. ‘By which I mean a day watching the rugby at Murrayfield.’
Great, she silently fumed. What now then? Lochlan wouldn’t talk to her and the CFO was on a corporate jolly. She supposed she could pencil in interviews with some of the line managers and start gathering collateral material on him. Hamish could probably help her out with some introductions; she sensed that he commanded respect around here.
‘I’ve just come from seeing Lochie.’ He waited for her to stop and turn back – which she did.
‘And?’ Her voice was low. What exactly had Lochlan told his cousin – had he regaled him with every last detail of their contretemps?
‘It doesn’t appear things are going well between you,’ he said drily.
‘No thanks to you. Your little joke undermined me from the off, robbing me of a proper introduction and that vital first impression.’
‘It wouldn’t have made a difference. He’s determined not to have anything to do with you.’
‘Yes. Because of your father. If I’m so tainted by association, why should he have more time for you than for me?’
‘Blood?’ he shrugged, before adding with a wink, ‘And the fact that I’m irresistible to everyone.’
‘Not everyone.’ It was clear he was used to his good looks getting most things, most women.
He smiled, undeterred, walking slowly towards her. ‘Listen, I’ve come up with a plan.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ she said, folding her arms as he stopped within a couple of inches.
‘You’re going to have to trust me.’
‘Well, I don’t.’ It struck her as ironic that with this cousin, she sounded just like Lochlan, and Callum sounded just like her. Was this how annoying Lochlan found her to be, she wondered, as she pestered him to talk to her?
