Peatsmoke

There was a door, and a window on one side of it, and a chimney from which a small spiral of pungent peatsmoke ascended.

Celia lay staring up at the beams blackened from peatsmoke.

Out in the village there was a new smell: peatsmoke, a much more romantic smell than coalsmoke – the railway was now far away.

He could smell the spilled whisky from the broken glass, a ghost of peatsmoke.