Adam headed into the hall. He heard a television on and walked towards the living room. Molly was sitting on the sofa with a blanket over her, the same one Adam had found draped over himself when he woke on that sofa yesterday morning. She was staring glassy-eyed out the window, a huge tumbler of amber liquid in her hand. A black-and-white film was on television, a posh-looking couple running across moorland, just like the stuff outside.

Molly turned her head to look at the whisky bottle on the coffee table. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, taking a large gulp from her tumbler. ‘Use Ash’s glass.’ She pointed at an empty glass, sticky residue lining the inside of it.

Adam walked over and picked up the bottle. It had a plain white label on it, Port Ellen. He’d never seen it before, it didn’t have the usual age or percentage information. He poured a large measure and nosed it out of habit, but he didn’t need an amazing whisky now, he needed an anaesthetic or a sleeping pill, something to erase the last thirty-six hours.

‘What is it?’ he said, lifting his glass.

Molly stared out the window. ‘Thirty-year-old, bottled in ’84. Completely unofficial. Never left the island, not for sale. Fell off the back of a lorry. It was part of my dad’s special stash.’

Adam had another big sip. He didn’t know what to say. Molly seemed in a trance. He stared at her. She looked exhausted and traumatised, but still pretty, her face still strong. An image of her bent over the barrel in the still with her jeans down flashed through his mind, the look on her face back then. He gripped his glass and screwed his eyes shut, then opened them again. He looked at the old film on the television. The couple were booking into an inn and looking suspicious.

Everything was ruined now, he realised.

‘I can’t sleep,’ said Molly, still looking out the window. ‘Isn’t that weird? Apart from crashing out for an hour at hospital, we’ve been awake for two days, walked and run for umpteen miles, been through hell, and still I can’t sleep.’

‘I’m the same,’ said Adam, feeling enormously tired all of a sudden, as if his legs would buckle. He eased himself down into a chair facing the sofa and stared at Molly. They couldn’t go back now, was all he kept thinking, they couldn’t ever go back. Why did it all have to happen to them?

‘How was your police interview?’ asked Molly.

‘A nightmare.’

She finally turned to look at him. ‘You stuck to the story though, yeah?’

‘Of course. But I think he knew we’d been there.’

‘Same with me. But they don’t know anything, not unless we tell them. They only suspect.’

They both drank, then Adam spoke.

‘They said forensics were on their way.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What do you think they’ll find?’

‘No idea,’ said Molly, her eyes seeming to clear. ‘The still was presumably pretty much demolished in the fire.’

‘What about our tracks around it? And up at the loch?’

Molly shook her head. ‘I just don’t know.’

‘How far do you think they’ll look?’

Molly didn’t speak, just shrugged.

Adam swallowed uncomfortably. ‘My clothes are lying on the floor in that farmhouse.’

Molly looked at him then pressed her fingers at her temples and scrunched her eyes shut. ‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘I know. What should we do?’

‘Is there anything identifying you?’

Adam shook his head. ‘Remember, Joe made us empty our pockets, so I had nothing on me. My DNA will be all over the clothes, though.’

Molly sat thinking for a moment, the corners of her mouth turned down. ‘We just have to hope forensics don’t get as far as the farmhouse, and that no one reports the break-in for a while.’

‘Is that it?’

‘We can’t do anything about it just now, the whole area will be crawling with police.’

‘Yeah, I know, but …’

‘It didn’t look as if anyone was living there for the winter. With any luck the break-in won’t be discovered till spring. In a few days, once this has all died down, I’ll go out there and get your clothes.’

‘Really?’

Molly looked away. ‘Sure.’

They sat in silence for a while.

‘Think they’ll find Luke?’ Adam said eventually.

‘Hopefully not for a while.’

‘So we just have to sit tight.’

‘Looks like it.’

They both drank again.

‘It’s unbearable,’ said Adam.

‘I know,’ said Molly, draining her glass and holding it out empty. ‘But we just have to bear it, don’t we?’

Adam struggled out of his chair, refilled both their glasses then slumped back down. He gazed at Molly. She’d hardly made eye contact since he’d come in. It broke his heart.

‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘OK.’

‘I mean after …’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘At least you got your revenge.’

Molly glared at him, locking eyes for the first time. ‘You think that helps?’

‘No, of course not, I didn’t mean …’

‘It’s not a matter of revenge.’

‘I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Then what did you mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ He felt tears well up in his eyes. ‘Jesus, I’m sorry, I just …’

He could feel Molly looking at him as he started to cry, his eyes stinging with tears, his breath halting. After a while he recovered himself, wiped his eyes with his sleeves, took a hit of whisky.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be,’ said Molly. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

There was a long silence, just the low chatter of the couple on television, who were now in a bedroom, handcuffed together.

‘So what now?’ Adam said after a while.

Molly sipped and shrugged. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow.’

‘You’re not seriously thinking of going in, are you?’

‘What else am I going to do?’

‘Surely they’d understand you’re in no fit state.’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Molly. ‘Better than sitting around here.’

Molly looked at him, and he spotted a glimmer of the kindness in her eyes that he’d first noticed, the affection she had for him before all this insanity.

‘What about you?’ she said.

‘I’m supposed to stay on the island until the police get back in touch. Roddy presumably won’t be out of hospital for a while. Then there’s Ethan.’

He fell silent. Was he supposed to deal with Ethan’s body? Shit, what about Debs, he hadn’t even called her. Was that his responsibility? He couldn’t face speaking to her. It would’ve been bad enough with a simple crash, but everything else, all the secrets and stupid lies they had to maintain, it was all just impossible. Everything was completely fucked up. How were they supposed to survive all this shit?

He felt a wave of immense fatigue sweep over him. He downed his whisky and rubbed at his face. He was stinking, he hadn’t showered in days. He noticed Molly was scrubbed clean, her hair still slightly damp.

‘Think I need to have a wash, get some rest maybe,’ he said, creaking out of the chair.

‘OK,’ said Molly, looking up at him.

Adam looked her in the eye. ‘Can I come back later?’

Molly held his gaze for a moment then looked away. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘I don’t think it’ll do any good for us to see each other.’

‘What do you mean?’

Adam stared at her, his heart thumping. Serenity now.

Molly looked at him and he struggled to swallow.

‘I don’t think we should keep in touch.’

‘What, ever?’

Molly finished her drink and put her glass down. ‘We’ll just remind each other of it all.’

Adam gulped heavily. ‘So what?’

She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to be reminded of it. Any of it.’

‘But …’ Adam realised he didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t bear it. It was all so fucking fucked up. ‘So this is it?’

Molly looked at him kindly. ‘Sorry, Adam, I just think it’s for the best.’

‘But I want to see you again.’

Molly smiled thinly. ‘Maybe you will, if there’s a court case.’

‘God, don’t say that.’

Molly rubbed her chin. ‘Let’s just try and forget any of this ever happened, OK?’

Adam knew that was impossible, and he knew Molly knew it too. He looked her in the eyes for a long time until eventually she turned away to watch the television. He kept staring at her in silence, not knowing what to do or say. Eventually he just sighed and turned to leave, his body exhausted beyond words and his mind buzzing with miserable nightmares.