Thirty-Four

 

Time turned tangled seaweed to smooth satin that Aidan wanted to stroke. Instead of restraining my hair as I normally would in a knotted bun or braid, I left it loose down my back.

As if I needed more encouragement, Aidan kept murmuring, "Beautiful. Just beautiful, Bel," each time he reached out to touch my curtain of hair.

"Do I look okay?" I asked, concerned.

Aidan looked me up and down as I scrutinised his clothing. He wore the same as me – jeans and a shirt, covered by a thick jacket. I cinched the belt of my coat tighter around my waist, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. His scrutiny still made me feel nervous.

"Like I keep saying, you're beautiful, Bel. No one will notice I'm there, if I walk in with you." Aidan held out his hand and I took it. "Let me drive. That way, you can drink as much as you like and I'll make sure you get home. Well, to my home, at least."

We headed out to his car. The seats still smelled of salt from my soaking yesterday.

We encountered no kangaroos on the drive, though the birds seemed out in force, fluttering through the watery sunlight filtering through the trees that lined the road.

He slid the Mini into the last spot in the parking lot. I hesitated, looking around, wondering how many of the townspeople would be inside the Distillery building.

Aidan's arm snaked around my waist, clamping me to his side. "It's all right, Bel. There'll still be plenty of food and whiskey left."

Still uneasy, I walked stiffly inside with him.

The room was packed. Bar stools, tables, chairs and sofas were all occupied by people. A fire rippled like a wave in the heater, flickering orange and blue through the sooty glass, and the room burbled with conversation and laughter. There was no place for us, except at the tables on the veranda, in the cold air outside.

I slipped from Aidan's embrace. "I'll go find us a table," I said, gesturing toward the veranda.

He nodded, pressing his lips together as if he was trying to squash unsaid words or laughter between them. "I'll get you a drink. Anything particular you'd like to eat?" He waved his hand at the menu.

I shrugged. "I don't mind. Whatever looks good." I meant it, too. With so many people around, I wasn't sure I'd taste a bite. I'd be watching them too warily, wondering and worrying and wishing I wasn't part of such a crowd.

I crossed to the veranda door and found a table on the decking that was half-hidden from the window, sitting so I'd be out of sight to the people inside, but in clear view of the door when Aidan walked through it. The sun touched my hands on the table, a faint whisper of warmth when compared to the wonderful man I waited for or the whiskey he'd bring me.

"Bel? What are you daydreaming about?"

My eyes flew open to see Aidan smiling at me, glasses in hand. I smiled right back, able to be completely honest. For once, I had nothing to hide. "You."

He set the drinks down and leaned across the table for a kiss, his tongue lightly caressing mine. He tasted of whiskey already. "I'm sorry, I started without you. Just a sip," he said, the slightest of apologies in his eyes.

I looked at the glasses on the table. Somehow, I had a lot of little ones, held together on a wooden board, not a single large glass like last night. Aidan had a similar board of glasses before him.

"A tasting paddle," Aidan offered. "With slight samples of what they have available for sale at the moment. We can enjoy these until our lunch is ready." He touched a finger to the tiny glass on the right end of the platter. "This is M79, the one that set you on fire last night."

I looked into his eyes at these words, eyes of blue fire, like the flame on the gas stove he'd cooked my breakfast on. Unlike this morning, I restrained myself to another kiss across the table, without throwing the rest of my body after it. When I slowly pulled back, I replied, "Then I'll keep that one 'til last."

Talking about each glass as if it held fruit, grain, herbs, smoke and soil, instead of golden brown liquid, he pointed out which to try. Try as I might, I couldn't taste all of the things he described in each glass. I'd never eaten soil nor smoke, but I didn't like those that supposedly contained them, either.

Yet after each glass was empty, I found I preferred the taste of the contents on his tongue, in yet another table-top kiss. When only one tiny glass of fire remained, a woman brought a tray to the table, containing the food Aidan had ordered for us. The tantalising smells wafting from the plates set my stomach complaining once more, so I took a fork and seized the nearest morsel to pop into my mouth. The wine-coloured slice of sausage proved spicier than it first appeared, so I coughed and choked until I reached for a glass of water to extinguish the unpleasant fire. I came up dry. There was no water – only the whiskey I wanted for later.

I staggered to my feet and coughed out something about getting a drink, pointing vaguely in the direction of the bar.

"Are you okay?" Aidan asked, worried.

I smiled and nodded between coughing as I tried to hurry inside.

At the bar, I had to wait behind some people who were tasting their way through paddles like mine. With some curiosity, I watched them as they cautiously sipped each glass. The women pulled faces, but the men seemed to be practicing blank expressions with each mouthful. I wondered whether it was the whiskey or the women that made them behave so strangely. Still I waited.

After some discussion, one of the men bought a bottle of whiskey, wrapped in a paper bag and tucked under his arm, as the group strode out of the Distillery.

I stepped up to the counter. "I'd like a big bottle of water and a bottle of the last whiskey on the tasting paddle."

"The last one? M79? The prices are here," the barman said smoothly, pulling a sheet of plastic-coated paper toward me. He turned away to find a bottle of water and some glasses to go with it.

He clinked the bottle and glasses to the counter, then looked at me expectantly. My expression mirrored his, as I waited for the whiskey bottle. "And the whiskey?" I asked hoarsely.

He hesitated. "You did see the price..." he said as he pointed at the last line on the page. The number on the end was close to my weekly salary from the hospital.

Perhaps I should have hesitated, too, but I knew Aidan didn't earn much more than me. And he'd chosen to share his expensive bottle of whiskey with me last night. The least I could do was replace it. I glanced at the window, where I could just see Aidan's back as he sat outside, waiting for me. He looked lonely. Silently I extracted my credit card and held it out.

"A bottle of the M79?" the barman asked, again, just to make sure.

I nodded once and extended the card further. Perhaps if I replaced the bottle, he'd permit me to have a little more of the first bottle tonight...

The barman bustled around, pressing buttons on the little machines to process my payment, before handing me the bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. With another glance outside, I tucked it into my bag. I'd surprise him with it later.

I picked up the water bottle and glasses, stepping slowly to the door outside.