Maggie slid a biscuit off the plate. 'I wanted to talk to you about Oren.'

'Oh, that again,' said Jennifer defensively, pouring milk in her mug. Had she come of her own volition or had David sent her?

'David, well, he can be difficult to live with at times,' said Maggie with a resigned sort of smile and Jennifer's mouth hung open in surprise. This was the first time she'd heard Maggie admit that all might not be well between her and David.

'You know that better than anyone,' went on Maggie. 'And we have a very ... how shall I put it ... traditional marriage. When I took my vows I promised to love, honour and obey.' She looked at Jennifer's blank face and added, 'What I'm trying to say is that David wouldn't take too kindly to me being here.'

'Why's that?' said Jennifer.

'Because I don't agree with him. I don't believe Oren's story. I believe you. And I just wanted you to know that. I've tried to persuade David that Oren's lying but he doesn't want to hear it.'

Maggie paused to bite a chunk off the biscuit and Jennifer put a closed fist to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. 'You don't know how much it means to hear you say that.'

Maggie swallowed a sip of tea and said simply, 'I think I do.' And then she went on, as if delighted, at last, to air her opinion. 'David says he senses the hand of G.o.d on Oren,' she said with a scoff, 'if you can believe that. He's terribly impressed by Oren's ability to quote chapter and verse from the Bible on any subject.'

'And you're not?'

Maggie shrugged. 'The more I get to know him, the less I like him. He seems to have an inflated sense of his own worth.'

Jennifer nodded in agreement, delighted to hear that she was not the only one who saw through Oren's facade and knew him for what he truly was a liar and a cheat. 'I think I'm going to lose her, Maggie. She won't talk to me. I even tried going to her digs in Belfast but she wouldn't see me.' She paused and added hoa.r.s.ely, 'If she marries Oren Wilson, I might never see her again.'

Maggie nodded gravely. 'Well, let's just hope and pray that some miracle occurs to prevent it.'

'You know I gave Ben up because of Lucy and Oren,' blurted out Jennifer. 'Well, partly anyway.'

'Because they objected to the relationship?' said Maggie, a crumb falling out of the corner of her mouth onto the table.

Jennifer nodded. 'It wasn't just that, of course. I worried what would happen to us in the future. I overheard someone at a party on New Year's Eve call me a cougar. I was so embarra.s.sed I left the party early. I couldn't bear to be a figure of fun, with people laughing at me, at us, behind our backs.'

'I'm sure they weren't.' Maggie stared thoughtfully into her tea. 'But I know exactly what you mean about caring too much what other people think. You know I turned David down three times before I finally agreed to have dinner with him?'

Jennifer shook her head. She knew nothing about how David and Maggie got together, though of course David had known Maggie as Jennifer's friend for years.

Maggie looked up at Jennifer. 'It wasn't that I didn't want to.'

'So what held you back?'

'I felt that I was stealing your husband, taking advantage of your misfortune. That it was somehow distasteful, backstabbing. And that people would judge me for it.'

'But that's nonsense,' cried Jennifer. 'We were divorced.'

'I know. But still, it didn't feel quite the done thing. It was David who persuaded me in the end.'

'Well, I'm glad he did,' said Jennifer firmly. 'I would've hated to see you miss out on happiness because of a misplaced sense of loyalty to me. Or because of gossip-mongers.'

'It's good of you to say that, Jennifer. Not many women would.' Maggie paused and smiled gently. And then she leaned forward and laid a hand on the table. 'But don't you see that you've done just that with Ben, Jennifer? You've let your own self-doubt and what other people think destroy your happiness.'

Jennifer leaned back in her chair and sat in stunned, quiet silence. And then she said, 'I ... I think you're right, Maggie. I have, haven't I? And it's brought me no closer to Lucy. Ben didn't want to end it, you know. He begged me to stay with him.'

'Is it too late to start over?'

'I ... I don't know,' said Jennifer, as panic took hold. She rested her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands. 'Oh, Maggie, what have I done? I've been so stupid and shallow. Ben must hate me.'

'I doubt that very much,' said Maggie placidly.

'Oh, I don't know what to do!' she cried and she pushed back her chair. But before she could rise from the table, the back door burst open with a blast of freezing air, and Matt walked in still wearing his chef's whites.

'Hi Maggie. Hi Mum,' he said, throwing his cap petulantly on the table.

Jennifer stood up, her hand on the back of the chair. 'What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?'

Matt snorted and shook his head. 'Because Ben Crawford's just gone and cancelled all the bookings and closed Carnegie's, hasn't he?'

'What?'

'And we're all out of a job. For the time being anyway.'

'But he can't do that, surely?' said Maggie with an alarmed look at Jennifer.

'He can and he has. He says he doesn't know when Carnegie's will reopen. Jason says not to worry. He says Alan Crawford will get a new manager in, but I don't know,' he added with a shake of his head and a quiver of his bottom lip. 'It was all going so well.'

'But why?' said Maggie. 'The restaurant's been a roaring success. Why on earth would he close it?'

Matt shook his head in exasperation and put his hands on his hips. 'Maggie, all I can tell you is that he has and he's down there now, on his own, drinking.' He looked at Jennifer, then looked away.

'Tell me,' she said, as the blood drained from her face.

Matt folded his arms and stared directly at her. 'Some people are saying it's due to personal problems. Since you and him finished, Mum, he's been like a bear with a sore head. And I don't know if this has anything to do with it, but he came in today with a shiner. His right eye was almost swollen shut.'

'Ben's injured?' She went over to the door and grabbed the first coat that came to hand an old jacket she used for walking m.u.f.fin and the car keys, lying on the counter.

'Mum, where are you going?'

She paused with her hand on the doork.n.o.b. 'I have to go to Ben. He needs me.' Then she opened the back door and walked out into the night.

Chapter 23.

Ben sat at the back of the restaurant with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and a gla.s.s on the table in front of him. The temple above his right eye throbbed and the vision out of the narrow, swollen slit was slightly blurry. But he didn't mind the black eye. It was a reminder that, for once in his life, he had done the right thing. Something he could even be proud of.

The roller blind on the door was pulled down and most of the lights were off so that, from the outside, the place looked empty. One or two customers whom he'd failed to contact by phone earlier had come knocking on the door, eventually turned away by the sign he'd scrawled in black marker, 'Restaurant closed until further notice'. He felt bad about that, but he felt even worse about the staff. He'd never felt like such a worthless s.h.i.t as when he told them he was closing the restaurant and saw the look on their faces. Especially Jason, whom Ben could not look in the eye. He couldn't make them any promises, but he knew Alan wouldn't let a little goldmine like Carnegie's go down the pan.

And then he would be free to go. To leave this wretched town where his hopes had been raised to the heavens and then dashed to the ground. He looked about the room, the gilded mirrors and shiny chandeliers that had gleamed with so much promise on opening night, now dark and dull, the way he imagined the tarnished furnishings in Miss Havisham's room in Great Expectations. He shook his head. Who would he share such an insight with? Who, of the people he worked with and the friends he had outside work, would identify with the reference? Jennifer would, but she had made it clear she never wanted to see him again. He took a swig of whiskey, grimacing at the taste, hoping that it would be enough to dull the pain in his heart that was so much worse than the pain in his head.

He could not face one more night of meeting and greeting with a plastic smile on his face when his heart was cracked open like a nut. He'd read so many books on the subject of love but he'd never understood, not until he'd held Jennifer in his arms and looked into her eyes. Love, he now realised, meant caring for someone more than you cared for yourself. If he was asked, even now, he would lay down his life for her.

He'd loved her enough to defy his father and his mother and would've turned his back on them both without hesitation, if that meant he could be with her. But that wasn't enough for Jennifer.

He took another swig of whiskey. Because in the end she wasn't prepared to do the same for him.

And now he wished he had not met her, for he could've gone on living in ignorance, thinking that the life he lived was as happy as any man could expect. Now he knew better.

A sharp tap on the front window drew his attention and in the gloom he saw a small figure, that of a woman he guessed, peering through the big gla.s.s pane. Her nose was pressed up against the gla.s.s, her hands cupped around her face. Why wouldn't she just go away and leave him in peace? Couldn't she read the sign?

'h.e.l.lo,' shouted the woman, and his heart stood still. It was Jennifer, he was sure of it. He set the gla.s.s on the table, stood up, and the sudden movement made a pain shoot across his forehead.

Her shadowy figure moved to the door. 'Ben, please open the door. I know you're in there.'

His heart began to race like it did when he ran up the Grammar Brae, forced by the gradient to shorten his stride and open his mouth wide to gulp in air. He moved towards the door, propelled by the need to see her once more, to look upon her one last time before he left this G.o.dforsaken place. She rattled the door handle again and, impatient, called out, 'I have to talk to you. Please let me in.'

He reached the door and turned the key in the lock. Moving slowly on account of his swollen eye, he slid the bolts top and bottom, then opened the door.

She looked up at him with a sorrowful smile, placed a hand on her heart, and said, 'Oh, thank G.o.d.' He wanted to hate her, but she looked so vulnerable, it was impossible.

'Come in,' he said and turned and walked back to the table. He so wanted to embrace her, to press his lips against her soft mouth, but she did not want him. Being here with her now, in the same room, knowing he could never have her, was intolerable.

The door clicked shut. 'It's awfully dark in here,' she said.

'Turn the lights up if you want. You know where the switches are.'

She wove her way through the tables to a panel of switches on the back wall and flicked one. Immediately all the floor and wall lights came on bathing the room, and Jennifer, in a soft yellow glow. She wore trainers and grey marl trackies under an unflattering old jacket and her face was bare of make-up. He couldn't help but notice the grey shadows under her eyes and the sallowness of her complexion.

He poured some more whiskey with shaking hands, sloshing the rust-coloured liquid over the sides of the gla.s.s and onto the pristine tablecloth.

'Can I sit?' she said sheepishly, pointing at the chair beside him.

He nodded and she sat down on the edge of the seat and looked at the table, set for six. 'Want some?' he said, gesturing at the whiskey.

She shook her head, sandwiched her hands between her knees and stared at his right eye. 'What on earth happened to your face? It looks so painful,' she said, wincing as if it were she who bore the injury and not him.

'I got into a fight with someone.'

'I wonder what the other guy looks like,' she said, her half-hearted attempt at humour falling flat like a beach party in the rain.

'You'll find out soon enough. If Oren doesn't tell you himself I'm sure Lucy will.'

'You fought with Oren?' she gasped.

'Yeah, I did.' And he had certainly come off worse. Oren was a huge man and Ben had been no match for him. He'd managed to land a few ineffectual punches before Oren had punched him full just above the right eye, rendering him unconscious.

'But ... when?'

'This morning. I went to his flat.'

'But why?' said Jennifer. 'Why would you fight with Oren Wilson?'

He gave her a twisted smile. 'Matt told me he made a pa.s.s at you and, when you rejected him, he accused you of doing the same to him.'

'You did that for me?' Jennifer's eyes filled up with tears and she reached a hand across the table. Her hand hovered uncertainly in the air, then settled on the table, palm down.

'You're still my girl,' he said, his words coming out slow and thick. 'Even if you don't want to be. That's why I'm leaving Ballyfergus. I can't stand living in the same town as you, knowing that I could b.u.mp into you any day.' He cleared his throat and spoke up. 'Jennifer,' he said, 'what do you want? Why did you come here?'

She hesitated, seemingly startled by the question, and withdrew her hand. 'I ... I ...' she began and stalled.

'Are you here to persuade me to re-open the business because you're worried about Matt's job?' he said a little harshly. 'I'm leaving. But I daresay Alan will keep the show on the road. Matt's a brilliant chef. He doesn't have anything to worry about.'

'No,' she cried. 'No. I'm here because I want to say that I'm sorry. I made a mistake.'

He stared at the wall, turning his head away from her so that she would not see the despair on his face. What good was an apology? What was the point of a.n.a.lysing what had gone wrong and why? It would not mend his broken heart, nor restore him to the man he had once been.

'I shouldn't have listened to other people,' she went on. 'Or cared what they thought. I should've had the strength and the belief in us to follow my heart. And I'm sorry that I didn't have the guts to do that.' She paused and added, her voice oscillating with emotion, 'Please Ben. Look at me.'

He turned his head then and stared into her eyes, which shone like polished mahogany. She reached out hesitantly and touched his arm lightly. 'Can you forgive me, Ben?'

He looked at her hand, startling white, like the tablecloth, against his black shirt. Was that what she came for? Absolution for her foolishness? Forgiveness for the hurt she had caused him? He swallowed. 'Of course I forgive you,' he said thickly, and he waited for her to rise, to kiss him lightly on the cheek perhaps, and leave.

But she did not move. He turned his head towards her and looked into her face. Her cheeks were red and she blinked furiously. 'Do you think ... can we ... will you take me back?'

He held his breath, not certain that he had heard her correctly. Wondering if, in his desperate grief, he had heard only what he wanted to.

'What did you say?' he said, his throat tightening so he barely got the words out.

'Will you give us another chance, Ben?'

He stood up abruptly and her hand fell from his arm. He walked away quickly and stood in the middle of the restaurant with his back to her, his shaking hands in his trouser pockets, the blood pounding in his head. There was nothing in the world he wanted more. But could he trust her? He turned round and looked into her unblinking eyes and found that he was angry with her. 'Don't play games with me, Jennifer.'

She stood up. 'I'm not playing games, Ben. I love you. I want us to be together.'

'We were together, Jennifer. You broke us up.'

She opened her mouth to speak but only a stifled sob came out. Putting a hand to her lips, she steeled herself and whispered, 'I know. And I was wrong. But I can't change the past, I can only try to make it right now.'

He shook his head and fought against the urge to sweep her up in his arms and make her his again. It would be so easy to ignore the difficult questions he knew must be answered. 'How do I know you'll not leave me again?'

'Because I just won't. Not ever,' she said firmly.

He looked at her pale, stricken face and said bitterly, 'What's changed, Jennifer? You're still sixteen years older than me. And my parents, and your daughter, are still just as opposed to us as ever.'

'They haven't changed. But I have,' she said, placing her hand over her heart. 'I've been such a fool.'

He looked at the ceiling and blinked back tears. 'I wish I could believe you, Jennifer. You've no idea how much you hurt me.'