To Cut a Long Story Short

‘You look great,’ he said, trying to sound convi

ncing. ‘Shall we go?’

Ruth joined him on the quay, and they strolled towards the town, chatting inconsequentially until he turned down a side street, coming to a halt in front of a restaurant called Venitici. When he opened the door to let her in, Ruth couldn’t hide her disappointment at discovering how crowded the room was. ‘We’ll never get a table,’ she said.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ said Max, as the maitre d’ headed towards them.

‘Your usual table, Mr Bennett?’

‘Thank you, Valerio,’ he said, as they were guided to a quiet table in the corner of the room.

Once they were seated, Max asked, ‘What would you like to drink, Ruth? A glass of champagne?’

‘That would be nice,’ she said, as if it were an everyday experience for her. In fact she rarely had a glass of champagne before lunch, as it would never have crossed Angus’s mind to indulge in such extravagance, except perhaps on her birthday.

Max opened the menu. ‘The food here is always excellent, especially the gnocchi, which Valerio’s wife makes. Simply melts in your mouth.’

‘Sounds great,’ said Ruth, not bothering to open her menu.

‘And a mixed salad on the side, perhaps?’

‘Couldn’t be better.’

Max closed his menu and looked across the table. ‘The boys can’t be yours,’ he said. ‘Not if they’re at boarding school.’

‘Why not?’ asked Ruth coyly.

‘Why … because of Angus’s age. I suppose I just assumed they must be his by a previous marriage.’

‘No,’ said Ruth, laughing. ‘Angus didn’t marry until he was in his forties, and I was very flattered when he asked me to be his wife.’

Max made no comment.

‘And you?’ asked Ruth, as a waiter offered her a choice of four different types of bread.

‘Been married four times,’ Max said.

Ruth looked shocked, until he burst out laughing.

‘In truth, never,’ he said quietly. ‘I suppose I just haven’t bumped into the right girl.’

‘But you’re still young enough to have any woman you like,’ said Ruth.

‘I’m older than you,’ said Max gallantly.

‘It’s different for a man,’ said Ruth wistfully.

The maitre d’ reappeared by their side, a little pad in his hand.

‘Two gnocchi and a bottle of your Barolo,’ said Max, handing back the menu. ‘And a side salad large enough for both of us: asparagus, avocado, lettuce heart - you know what I like.’

‘Of course, Mr Bennett,’ replied Valerio.

Max turned his attention back to his guest. ‘Doesn’t someone of your age find Jersey a little dull?’ he asked as he leaned across the table and pushed back a strand of blonde hair that had fallen across her forehead.

Ruth smiled shyly. ‘It has its advantages,’ she replied a little unconvincingly.

‘Like what?’ pressed Max.