As the restaurant became more upmarket the bar became more downmarket, rougher, bawdier even. Because of the layout of the building it was not possible to easily change the entry points either. I don't know if they ever tried. Maybe they should have before it was too late. It became too late dramatically one Saturday evening.
Nobody knows the intimacies of any relationship or marriage except the couple involved.
I fancy, though, that her husband would not have had much time for the upmarket people who patronised his wife's restaurant and would also not have liked the fact that she was contributing more to the coffers than he was. Probably that was a part of it. What I do know for certain, in the cruelly gleeful way in which it was told to me by somebody who was envious, was that one evening she had booked every table to a party of visiting gourmets from Belgium, probably her biggest ever night. And he had a darts final in the bar. A fight began in the bar at the time when the guests were at the elegant main course and a boiling interlocked brawling ball of cursing swearing bleeding kicking ex-butchers, one with a stool in his hand, came exploding through the door into the middle of the restaurant.