Chapter 19: Birthday Surprise

My eighteenth birthday fell on a Saturday, but I didn’t want to celebrate even though I knew that you’re supposed to go all out on your eighteenth, to mark becoming a legal adult and all that. There’s a ritual you’re supposed to observe where you walk into a pub and enjoy drinking your first legally purchased pint of beer at the bar, compared to drinking all the beers you’d bought illegally in the same pub at a table or standing by the fruit machine (which you also weren’t supposed to use until you turned eighteen).

But my eighteenth, like the two previous years, only served to remind me of what I lacked—my parents.

My fifteenth birthday fell during the week, but I persuaded my parents to go out for a meal that weekend and let me host a small party at the house with some friends. They agreed, provided Vicky stayed with me. I wasn’t about to say no to that because she was pretty cool for an older sister, and a couple of my friends even had a crush on her.

The party was in full swing when the police showed up asking to see me and Vicky. I thought they’d come to tell us to turn the music down because the neighbours were complaining.

The music stopped pretty damn quickly after they told us what had happened.

I can’t tell you how many times I wished I hadn’t had that stupid party.

So instead of going out to get legally drunk with some mates, I had a quiet day with Clarissa—strange that my girlfriend would be the one person who genuinely understood how I felt—and then went to work in the evening. But the next day, Will Brown invited Vicky and me to his house for lunch. His girlfriend cooked, which was a welcome relief for Vicky, I’m sure. Will opened a bottle of Champagne and even allowed his daughter to have some as they toasted my milestone.

After we’d polished off a fabulous dessert, Will said, “Paul, why don’t we leave the girls to clear up and go through into the lounge?”

“Dad,” Sophie whined, “that’s, like, so unfair. Why do I have to help clear up? I always have to clear up.”

“Because I said so. Besides, I need to talk to Paul alone.”

“It’s okay, Soph,” I said, “After we’re done, you can show me those photos on your laptop you were telling me about.” She beamed at that.

Will led me into the lounge and poured us both a glass of something from his drinks cabinet. Handing me one glass, he said, “Eighty-five Glenrothes. One of the very best Scotch whiskies money can buy, if not the best. Although there’s plenty of debate about that, believe you me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never had expensive Scotch.”

“I should bloody hope not. Bet you’ve been tempted by one or two of the bottles Ben warned you not to touch, though, right?”

I shook my head. “No, actually. Never.”

“Well, you should consider it, they’re yours now. Vicky isn’t a whiskey drinker, and it’s a shame to see them go to waste. Just...” He took a breath. “Just learn to appreciate them before you try them. They’re too good not to be savoured.” He held up his glass, allowing the light from the bulb on the ceiling to pass through it. He was looking at the liquid in the glass with something close to reverence. “This one was bottled in two thousand after fifteen years in the cask. I picked it up on a trip to Aberdeen a couple of years ago. Cost me nearly five hundred pounds, but worth every single penny. Apparently, there are fewer than a thousand bottles left now. I opened it six months ago, and this is only my third glass.” He held his glass out towards me. “The right glass is crucial. Wide at the bottom. Narrow at the top. Allows you to give it a swirl to release the aromas.”

He demonstrated what he meant, and I followed his example. Then he sniffed the glass. I did the same.

A sharp, woody smell instantly assaulted my senses. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Will over the top of the glass. He smiled.

“Now just a sip. Just enough to coat your tongue. Don’t swallow right away. That’s important. Let it move around your mouth so it covers all of your taste buds. Notice how the taste changes. And then when you swallow ... Savour the sensation as much as the taste.” He raised his glass. “Slàinte mhath!”