Chapter 16
The distillery was a thirty-minute drive from Tanglewood, on the other side of the small market town of Brecon. When Saul drove into the car park and killed the engine, he could see the impressive peaks of Pen y Fan and its sisters, forming a backdrop to the former farm that now served as a distillery. And when he and Kazz walked towards the main entrance, he could hear the faint roar of the tumbling stream bubbling out of a spring high up on the slopes of the majestic mountain above, whose waters made the whisky taste so pure and clean.
He wished he could try some – the whisky, that is, not the water – but he was driving, so he wouldn’t take more than a sip or two, to get some idea of the flavour. This tour was for Kazz’s benefit, not his. Which was why he found it difficult to tear his gaze away from her face when the visitors were first given a short talk and then shown around the facility.
As the guide explained how the mash tuns worked (apparently, the huge stainless-steel containers were where the ground malt was mixed with the spring water), Kazz was impressed by the sheer scale of the operation, and by the amount of stainless steel in evidence.
She leant closer to whisper, ‘I didn’t expect it to be this high tech,’ and when she did so, her perfume wafted up his nose, a deliciously light sweet scent, and her warm breath tickled his ear.
Her nearness sent a tingle right through him, and he held his breath until she stepped back a pace. The urge to turn his head and seek out her lips had been so strong that it had caught him unawares, and for the next few minutes he found it almost impossible to focus on the copper stills and the tour guide’s explanation. All Saul could think about was what it would be like to kiss her.
It took him until they reached the tasting bar to steady himself, and he was glad of a sip of the amber liquid to soothe his inner turmoil. He wasn’t supposed to be getting romantically involved with anyone right now, yet here he was, imagining kissing her. And more.
He let Kazz choose which blends to try, and the first one she picked was one tasting of nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger and apple, with a hint of citrus. It was delicious and rather moreish, but he only allowed himself the smallest of tastes. Considering the time of year, he thought her choice an appropriate one, as the blend reminded him of Christmas.
The next held hints of caramel and vanilla, and it lingered on his palate as it slipped down his throat to warm his stomach.
Kazz’s favourite was a whisky flavoured with the wild wimberries that grew on the slopes of the mountains. Similar to blueberries, only smaller and more tart, they added a subtle yet unique flavour to the single malt, and Kazz’s eyes shone when she took her first mouthful.
‘Oh, my goodness, that is…’ She licked her lips, and his gaze was drawn to them. ‘Simply divine.’ She sighed. ‘Here, try some.’
He did, and he had to admit it was very nice. ‘It’s lovely, but I prefer the last one.’
‘This?’ She pointed to the bottle.
‘I could drink that all night.’
They tried a couple more, and soon they all began to taste the same to his uneducated palate (he was more of a real-ale man), but Kazz was getting so much pleasure out of the visit, he was pleased he’d thought of it.
Leaving her to her tasting, he strolled around the room, looking at the special edition whiskies that were on show and reading the history behind them.
‘Ready?’ she asked sometime later, and he realised the tour had ended. She was clutching a bag to her chest and he guessed she had made a purchase or six.
‘I hope they’re not all for you,’ he quipped, as she struggled to hold the bag, even with both arms wrapped around it.
‘I’ve done some Christmas shopping,’ she replied haughtily, relinquishing her hold on the bag as he took it from her.
‘I think you must have bought everyone in Tanglewood a bottle. I hope you left enough for the other people on the tour.’
He escorted her out to the car and helped her into it. Her eyes were gleaming and her cheeks glowed, and he wondered how many ‘tastes’ she’d had.
‘Thank you for lunch and introducing me to Donald, and for taking me to the distillery,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a lovely day.’
‘I’m glad.’ He had enjoyed himself too. More than he would have imagined, considering it had consisted of a meal with his parents and he hadn’t been able to do more than have a sip or two of the whiskies. He had enjoyed it because Kazz had been with him.
Physical attraction aside, he liked her more than he’d liked any other woman since Joelle. The revelation was both surprising and concerning, because Saul had vowed to never let another woman anywhere near his fragile heart. It had taken him a very long time to put the broken pieces back together.
Was he ready to break that vow? Or would he keep the wall around his heart for the rest of his life?
Was he brave enough?
When the Landy came to a halt on the pavement outside the tea shop, at first Kazz didn’t notice anything wrong. She hopped down from the seat and opened the back of the vehicle to retrieve her purchases, but Saul reached past her and picked up the bag.
‘I’ll walk you to your door,’ he offered.
The entrance to the flat was at the back of the little row of shops and through a walled courtyard. At this time of year and in the dark, it didn’t look its best, but Kazz knew how pretty it could be. It was also rather secluded, and although she felt completely safe, it was thoughtful of Saul to offer.
Or maybe he wasn’t being thoughtful at all, but expected to come in for ‘coffee’.
The thought sent a thrill right through her.
Behave , she told herself. Saul had a reputation, and she had no intention of becoming the latest notch on his bedpost. Come to think of it, where did he do his philandering? Stevie had explained that he used to share a cottage on the farm with his brother, until Murray wanted to move his girlfriend in.
Kazz guessed that living with his mum and dad must be seriously cramping Saul’s style. He could hardly take his dates back to their house.
However, Kazz wasn’t a date. Was she?
She hesitated, debating whether to snatch the bag from him and hightail it back to the flat before he had the chance to suggest he came inside for a nightcap – because everyone knew what that would lead to – when something caught her attention. Or rather, the lack of something.
The bookshop was in darkness, but she distinctly remembered leaving the lights on in the window, because she had admired the display earlier.
‘Can you wait here a sec?’ She walked across the road, her attention focused on the shop. It could be a fuse, or— She drew in a sharp breath as an unsavoury thought occurred to her. Maybe she had been burgled? A burglar would be sure to switch the lights off, before—
Hang on, there was no sign of a break-in, she realised as she drew closer.
‘What’s up?’ Saul asked, making her jump.
He hadn’t waited by the car; he had followed her across the road and was right behind her.
‘I left the lights on in the window,’ she said, willing her pulse to return to normal.
‘Are you sure…’ he began, but when she shot a sharp look at him, he said, ‘Of course you are. Sorry.’
‘Not the overhead ones,’ she explained. ‘The lamp.’
‘In that case, it could be a fuse. Do you have any?’
She shook her head.
‘Pity. Let’s take a look anyway, in case it’s something else.’
Kazz fished the keys out of her bag and unlocked the door. Immediately, the alarm began to beep and she hastened to disarm it. But the sound had reassured her, and she began to feel silly for thinking someone might have broken in.
Flicking the bank of switches, she blinked when the overhead lights came on. The lamp, however, remained stubbornly unlit.
‘It must be a fuse,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll buy some tomorrow.’
‘Before you do, is there any other electrical item we can use to check it’s not the socket?’
‘Um, yeah, the kettle. I’ll go fetch it.’ She dashed out the back.
When she returned, Saul was looking through the books on the table.
‘Is this the original story? The dark one?’ he asked, without looking up.
Kazz came to stand beside him. He was pointing at The Night Before Christmas by Nikolai Gogol, who had written it in 1831. ‘It is,’ she confirmed, picking it up and turning to the title page. ‘It isn’t particularly old, but it’s beautifully illustrated.’
She handed it to him and he flicked carefully through the pages. ‘Blimey, you don’t want to be telling this story to a kid on Christmas Eve,’ he observed.
‘It is a bit grim in places, but it has got an uplifting ending.’
‘It’s got a witch in it, and the devil! I don’t call that very festive.’ He put it down and picked up another. ‘ The Greatest Gift ,’ he read.
‘Ah, now, that might be more to your liking. The film It’s a Wonderful Life was based on it. This is a short story published in 1943 by Philip van Doren Stern, which in turn was based on Dickens’s A Christmas Carol .’
She put the kettle down on the floor and plugged it in. Nothing happened. ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘It must be the socket.’
He carefully replaced the book on the table and bent to take a look. ‘Are any of the other sockets working?’
‘Let’s see.’ She unplugged the kettle and scooted across to the socket behind the counter. ‘No,’ she said sadly, after plugging the kettle into it. ‘This one is dead, too. Knickers!’
‘Do you know where the fuse box is? Something might have caused it to throw a switch.’
‘It’s above the door in the stock room,’ she said. ‘Hang on, I’ll fetch a chair to stand on.’
She walked over to the smaller of the two chairs, which she had brought with her from her grandad’s house, when she stopped dead. ‘I’m an idiot!’ she declared, as Saul bumped into her, shunting her forwards.
He grabbed hold of her. ‘Oops, sorry.’ His hand lingered on her arm. ‘I didn’t expect you to stop suddenly. And I doubt we’ll need a chair – I’m taller than you, so I might be able to see without standing on one.’
‘We definitely won’t need a chair,’ Kazz said. ‘The sockets are on a timer. See?’ She pointed to the row of light switches. Next to them was another switch, with a digital display. She’d seen something similar in the restaurant she had worked in before Freddie’s.
She pressed a couple of buttons and the kettle burst into life. Kazz hastened to switch it off, then she plugged the lamp in again. It came on immediately.
‘Thank God that’s all it was,’ she said, having had visions of calling out an electrician in the morning as a matter of urgency.
She used the edge of her hand to switch all the overhead lights off at once, and the shop was plunged into semi-darkness.
‘It looks very inviting,’ Saul said, walking over to the window display once more. ‘I wouldn’t mind my living room looking like this. When I get one of my own, that is.’
‘Will that be anytime soon?’
‘Probably not.’
He reached down to pick up the abandoned bag of whisky, but Kazz beat him to it.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said, delving into it. She brought out a chocolate-coloured box with gold writing on it. ‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’
‘The whisky you liked. It’s a thank you for today, and for driving me to London and back. It’s not much, just a small token of my appreciation, but maybe I could cook you a meal as well?’
He gazed at her for a heartbeat longer than necessary. ‘Thank you, I’d like that. Got any glasses? We could have a snifter now.’
Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?
‘A mug will do,’ he said, seeing her hesitation. ‘That stuff is very moreish, so I’ll leave the Landy here and walk home. It’s not far.’
The tension eased from Kazz’s shoulders as she realised he wasn’t going to use the age-old excuse that he’d have to stay the night because he couldn’t possibly drive after having a drink. He didn’t seem to be expecting to go to the flat either, which further helped ease her initial reservation. If he was up to no good, he’d hardly do it in the middle of her shop, when anyone could walk past and gawk at them.
She went to fetch the mugs, not entirely certain whether she was relieved that he wasn’t making a move on her or disappointed. If his sister was to be believed, Saul would happily date anyone under forty with a pulse. But not Kazz. He hadn’t given her so much as a peck on the cheek, although once or twice she’d got the impression he was interested. Maybe Leanne had warned him off?
Feeling better now that she had arrived at the most likely answer to Saul’s failure to make a move on her (she wasn’t that hideous, was she?), she relaxed even more.
And when she saw that he had arranged the chairs so they were facing each other, with the table in between, she had to smile. It really did look like part of a library in an old mansion, or an Edwardian parlour.
Saul took the bottle of whisky out of the box and unscrewed the top. The aroma of the alcohol filled the air, and Kazz sniffed appreciatively as he poured the spirit into the mugs. She took hers eagerly.
The first sip slipped warmly down her throat, and she closed her eyes in bliss. The rustle of a page being turned quickly had her opening them again to see Saul with The Greatest Gift in his lap.
‘I didn’t realise It’s a Wonderful Life was based on a book,’ he said.
‘Not many people do.’
He smiled at her. ‘Is the book better than the film?’
‘Why don’t you read it and find out?’
‘Oh, no, you’re not going to trick me into accepting a book from you. The whisky is payment enough.’
Kazz chuckled. ‘Read it here,’ she said. ‘It’s only about sixty pages long.’
His mouth twisted up at one corner. ‘It’s a bit rude, me reading while you…’
‘I could read too, but I’d much prefer if you read to me instead.’
Saul’s eyes widened. ‘You want me to read this to you ?’ He held up the slim volume.
‘Why not?’
‘But… I…’ He stopped, pressed his lips together, then said, ‘OK, if that’s what you want. But I’m warning you, I’m not doing any voices.’
Kazz bit her lip, laughter threatening to bubble up. ‘I didn’t expect you to.’
‘And if you laugh so much as once, I’ll refuse to read another word.’
‘OK.’ She drank some more whisky to wash the giggle back down.
He took a sip of his, shuffled back in his chair and opened the book. Then he began to read.
As the words washed over her, Kazz watched Saul, transfixed not only by the story itself, but also by the way the words sounded on his lips, the play of expression across his face and the emotion she sensed in him as he read.
He was as caught up in the story as she, and she lost a little piece of her heart to him right then.
Eventually, Saul turned the last page and his voice stilled, drifting into silence. Gently, he closed the book. Kazz had tears in her eyes, as she gazed at him. His were as warm as the whisky she’d drunk.
Without breaking eye contact, he placed the book reverentially on the table, and eased slowly forwards until he slipped off the edge of his seat and was kneeling in front of her.
Kazz’s heart fluttered and her breath hitched as he came nearer still.
When he cupped her face in his hands, she almost melted with the longing flooding her veins. She wanted him to kiss her so very much.
His palms were rough and calloused, but his touch was gentle and when his mouth found hers, she discovered that his lips were soft and warm.
He tasted of whisky and a promise of what could be, and she was more aroused than she could ever remember being in her life, seduced by both the story and the man who had told it.
She slid onto the floor, her pulse roaring in her ears as she grasped the back of his head to deepen the kiss, her fingers digging into his hair.
When she ran a hand down his back, stopping at the waistband of his jeans to wriggle her way under his T-shirt and fleece, and caressed his bare skin, a groan escaped him.
The sound brought her to her senses, as she abruptly realised where she was and what she was doing. And who she was doing it with.
Apologetically, she pulled away, dragging her mouth from his, reluctant but determined.
She was not going to be seduced by Saul, no matter how dearly she would like to be.
If he wanted her as much as she hoped, he was going to have to work for it.
And she had a feeling it was going to be so much fun if he did.