Page 25 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘How high up are we talking?’

‘Just don’t look down when you’re on the viewing platform and you’ll be fine,’ Donna says with a knowing grin.

‘The Summer Isles tour is the best,’ Rory proclaims. ‘I’ve not been on it for years. I’d love to do it again sometime.’

‘Oh, I want to do that too!’ I say eagerly, before sitting back in my seat to tone down my excitement. I don’t want anyone to suggest a group trip. Rory will probably make plans to throw me overboard.

‘Knockan Crag National Park is great too,’ Finlay adds. ‘If you like climbing for an amazing view.’

‘And rocks,’ Rory chimes in. ‘Are you much of a geologist, Ava?’

‘I can’t say I’m a fan of rocks, per se,’ I reply, lifting my gin. ‘I do like my whisky on the rocks, though, if that counts?’

I smile around the table but am met with a cold, hard stare from Rory. Finlay frowns too. Eilidh gives me a small shake of the head, her smile turned into a grimace. Even Piper seems disappointed, slumping her head onto her paws.

‘Typical,’ Rory mutters.

‘Ach, it’s not her fault. She’s not from around here,’ Finlay says in my defence, shaking his head all the same, as though he disagrees with himself.

What am I missing here?

‘I thought your family was Scottish,’ Rory says, accusingly. ‘Didn’t your granny teach you about Scottish whisky?’

‘Well, no, funnily enough, single malts weren’t at the top of the list for our conversations when I wasa child.’

Donna snorts.

‘Did you just say single malt?’ Rory splutters.

Eilidh taps her glass and clears her throat. ‘I think it was just an example.’

‘You can’t have a single malt with ice,’ Rory shakes his head.

‘Why not?’ I ask, tipping my head to the side with a smile. ‘It’s delicious. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

I have no idea whether the whisky I’d had before was a single malt, a double melt or a triple Malteser. I can’t even remember if I had it with ice or not. Whatever. It seems to really be winding Rory up, though.

‘The ice dilutes the flavour and numbs the palate. It’s pointless drinking whisky with ice,’ Rory says, all fired up, ready to go full Braveheart in defence of his national drink.

I contemplate starting on Irn-Bru next, but I worry that would start a bloodbath the Highlands haven’t seen since Culloden.

‘What’s pointless about drinking something the way you like it?’ I frown, sipping my gin calmly. ‘Surely that’s the whole point?’

‘Yes, of course it is, Ava,’ Eilidh chimes in, throwing me a smile. It is a bit of a pity smile, as though she secretly agrees with Rory, but it’s a show of solidarity and I take it.

Rory sits back in his creaky wooden chair, his arms folded across his chest. ‘There’s nothing else for it. We know what we’ve got to do.’

‘Absolutely,’ Donna agrees.

‘Oh, please no,’ Eilidh says. ‘I have things to do tomorrow.’

‘What?’ I say, perplexed.

‘A whisky tasting session,’ Finlay says. ‘That’s the only way to settle this.’

‘Now, Finlay, I’m not sure that’s strictly true,’ I protest. ‘Anyway, they all taste pretty much the same, don’t they?’

There is silence for a moment, before Donna throws her head back and begins to cackle, while Eilidh giggles.