‘Drastic times call for drastic measures,’ persisted Donna, her voice breaking the spell. Jennifer, her heart pounding, broke eye contact, and the man moved away.
‘The man of your dreams isn’t going to land on your lap sitting at home in Ballyfergus,’ lectured Donna. ‘You have to go out there and get in the game. And it’ll be fun. Trust me. I met some great guys,’ she added, omitting to mention the many creeps she’d also encountered in her quest. ‘I’ll help you set up your profile.’
Jennifer, slightly breathless, struggled to regain her poise. It had been a long time since any man had looked at her that way. And none so gorgeous as him. She closed her eyes and saw him still, his clean-shaven image burned into the backs of her eyelids. His dark, softly curling locks skimming the collar of his shirt. And yet it seemed so improbable. He was so handsome. He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he want her? Perhaps she had imagined the stare. She opened her eyes. She must have. He could’ve been staring at someone else, or staring into thin air.
‘Jennifer?’ frowned Donna. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just a little woozy. You know, after the cocktail and the wine.’
After the waitress had brought over a glass of water, Donna said with a satisfied smile, ‘You won’t regret this. When Matt finally walks out that door you’ll be so busy having fun, you’ll hardly notice him gone. Speaking of which,’ she added, craning her neck to see past the diners at the next table, ‘isn’t that Matt over there?’
‘It couldn’t –’ began Jennifer but she turned to look and the words died on her lips. It was Matt. And he was smiling and talking to the man in the pink shirt. They spoke briefly and then disappeared through a dark wood-panelled door at the back of the restaurant.
Jennifer said, as much to herself as Donna, ‘What’s Matt doing here?’ And what business did he have with that man?
‘Job interview?’ offered Donna.
‘Of course.’ Jennifer pulled a face to signify irritation with her own dimwittedness as much as her surprise. Casually dressed in jeans and a hoodie, he certainly didn’t look like he was about to have an interview. And he hadn’t said anything to her. But why would he? He’d had lots of interviews lately and he hadn’t known that she was coming here. It had been Donna’s surprise. A ‘happening place’ she’d called it. ‘Yes, he must’ve come for an interview,’ she said, scrutinising with freshly invested interest the busy, noisy restaurant. ‘And if today’s anything to go by, he wouldn’t be short of work. This place is heaving.’
‘It always is,’ said Donna authoritatively. ‘It’s one of the best restaurants in town. They get all their fish from Ewing’s on the Shankill Road.’ In response to Jennifer’s blank face, she added, ‘They’re the finest fishmongers in the city. They supply all the Crawfords’ Belfast hotels too.’
‘The Crawfords?’ asked Jennifer, trying not to show too much interest. Everyone but the man behind the bar was dressed entirely in black. It occurred to her that he must be the manager.
‘You know,’ said Donna. ‘They own The Marine Hotel in Ballyfergus.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Jennifer, the name ringing a bell now. The Crawfords were one of the province’s most wealthy, prominent families.
‘It seems they’ve been busy buying up restaurants too,’ went on Donna. ‘They took this place over a year ago and completely transformed it. It was a right dump before.’
Jennifer said casually, ‘Who’s that guy Matt was talking to just now?’ Her eyes were drawn involuntarily to the door through which they’d disappeared.
‘The one in the pink shirt? That’s Ben Crawford. Heir to the Crawford empire.’
Ben. The name suited him, she decided. She liked it.
‘Ulster Tatler voted him Northern Ireland’s Most Eligible Bachelor last year,’ went on Donna.
Jennifer swallowed. He really was out of her league, but still she could not help herself asking, ‘And is he … is he nice?’
‘I’ve never met him but I met the father, Alan, at a charity dinner once. Godawful man. Loud. Pompous. Full of himself.’
Jennifer bit her lip. Like father, like son? And he had looked so nice.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Donna, placing a reassuring hand on Jennifer’s. ‘Apparently the son’s nothing like the father. So if Matt ends up working for him, I’m sure it’ll be absolutely fine.’
Chapter 2
Ben sat behind the desk in the cramped, windowless office at the back of the restaurant. He smiled at the good-looking young man sitting opposite him as he riffled through papers on the desk – and tried to put the image of the raven-haired woman out of his mind. He’d noticed her, sashaying across the floor in those black patent heels and that tight skirt, straight away. He could not believe that he’d had the audacity to stare at her like that, slap bang in the middle of a crowded restaurant. What had possessed him?
Perhaps it had something to do with making the decision about Rebecca. He’d still to act on it, of course, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He glanced anxiously at the mobile lying on the table. He’d texted her earlier to ask if she would meet him tonight for a drink. He’d tell her then.
It wasn’t that he had a wandering eye. Far from it, he thought, pulling a résumé from the pile. He’d always been faithful to girlfriends and he wasn’t in the habit of staring at attractive women. But this one, for some reason, had caught his eye and he couldn’t stop himself. And she had stared back, making his heart race and his mouth go dry.
Pushing these thoughts to one side, he cleared his throat. ‘I’m really sorry, Matt. The Head Chef, Jason McCluskey, should be here for the interview but he’s been called away urgently.’ His three-year-old daughter, Emily, who had a rare blood disorder, had just been rushed into hospital with an asthma attack. ‘So, although this is really unusual, I’ll be doing the interview today.’
‘Okay.’ Matt smiled for the first time. He had an open, pleasing face, the sort that inspired trust in men and admiration in women. If his cooking was as good as his looks, he’d go far.
Ben picked up a blank A4 pad and tried to concentrate on Matt. Initially impressions were not good – his hair was too long and he’d not made much of an effort in his Abercrombie hoodie and skinny jeans. Ben disliked recruiting – he felt uncomfortable with the responsibility; he did not like the fact that he held the power to determine, even to a small extent, other people’s destinies. He worried that he might get it wrong. And if hiring was stressful, firing was even worse.
Only last week he’d sacked one of the waitresses, a single mum to toddler twins, for persistent, poor time-keeping. Three times she’d not turned up for work without so much as a phone call. He’d given her dozens of warnings and more chances than she deserved but in the end, for the sake of morale amongst the other staff, he’d had to let her go. And it had torn him apart. Steeling himself, he resolved to do what he always did – his best – though always mindful that he could never fill the shoes that went before him, so different in every way from his own.
Matt Irwin, he wrote across the top of the page, and settled into the brown leather swivel chair. Aiming to put the candidate at ease, he rested his right foot casually on his left knee. ‘I’ve read your CV, Matt, so I can see you’re qualified for the job. But tell me more about your practical work experience.’
‘I’ve worked in the kitchen of The Marine Hotel in Ballyfergus since I was sixteen.