Irish Deceptions

By Paula Martin

After a devastating car accident which halts her career as a professional dancer, Ellie Vaughan relocates to beautiful Connemara in the west of Ireland, where she finds a new life teaching at the Mist Na Mara Arts Centre.

When she’s teamed up with Irish actor, Dan Nicholas, to work on a musical at the local school, they’re instantly attracted to each other. Their mutual attraction grows, until Ellie discovers Dan has deceived her. He, in turn, is angered by what he believes is her lack of honesty.

Deceptions mount as Ellie’s former dance partner and Dan’s ex-girlfriend add to the complications, and a thirteen-year-old schoolboy is hiding his own secret.

Can Ellie and Dan find a way to overcome all the obstacles that threaten their future together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
• Release date: Nov 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370098910

Paula Martin

Paula Martin lives near Manchester in North West England and has two daughters and two grandsons. She had some early publishing success with four romance novels and several short stories, but then had a break from writing while she brought up a young family and also pursued her career as a history teacher for twenty-five years. She has recently returned to writing fiction, after retiring from teaching, and is thrilled to have found publishing success again with her contemporary romances. Apart from writing, she enjoys visiting new places. She has travelled extensively in Britain and Ireland, mainland Europe, the Middle East, America and Canada. Her other interests include musical theatre and tracing her family history.

Book preview

Chapter 1

‘It’s him!’ Maria whispered. ‘I’m sure it’s him!’

Ellie Vaughan followed her cousin’s wide-eyed stare toward the long bar counter. ‘Who?’

‘Dan Nicholas.’ Maria tilted her head. ‘The one with dark, wavy hair, standing to the right of the beer pumps.’

‘You’re imagining things. Why on earth would Dan Nicholas be here in Clifden?’

She studied the man again. When he half-turned and raised his hand to greet someone who had come into the pub, she caught her breath. His handsome profile – broad forehead, straight nose, well-defined jaw – certainly resembled the actor who’d starred as Michael in The Whelans at War, the award-winning 1920s Irish Civil War drama series on television.

‘I’m guessing the other guy is his brother,’ Maria went on. ‘They look alike, but he doesn’t seem too happy about what his brother’s saying.’ She giggled. ‘Maybe the brother has shacked up with a chambermaid at Waterside Hall, and Dan is here to drag him back to his wife and six kids.’

Ellie forced her attention back to her cousin. ‘Trust you to invent some tacky scenario.’

Maria grinned. ‘I like trying to guess who people are and what they’re thinking or saying. Those two women over there, for example. I bet the blonde one is telling the other she thinks her husband is cheating.’

‘They’re probably discussing what washing powder or shampoo they use.’

‘That’s boring. It’s much more fun imagining things.’

‘If you say so, but it’s time we headed back to work. We still have three million things to do, and the Fire Safety Inspector is coming at two o’clock.’

She stood, pulled her black jacket from the back of her chair, and stretched her arm into the top of one sleeve.

‘Ellie!’ came Maria’s warning cry.

She spun around in time to see the dark-haired man duck away from her elbow and spill some of his Guinness as he did so.

‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’ she gasped, letting her jacket fall to the floor.

He flicked his hand down his thigh. ‘No harm done, my trousers will dry.’

As she looked up at him, a dozen confused thoughts crashed through her mind. Yes, he was definitely Dan Nicholas. The dark eyes which had enthralled millions of women on television met hers, sending a tremor down her spine, and the deep, rich timbre of his Irish voice left her lungs short of oxygen.

‘I–I’m so sorry,’ she stuttered again.

He put his glass on a nearby table, picked up her jacket, and smiled. ‘Let me help you with this.’

Her heart raced as he held the jacket for her and she slid her arms into it. She only remembered to start breathing again when she turned back to him. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

A fire of embarrassment heated her cheeks. ‘Apologies again for spilling your beer. I hope your trousers won’t be stained.’ She glanced down at the wet patch at the top of his thigh, but wished she hadn’t when she raised her eyes again and caught the amused twitch of his mouth. Struggling to salvage a few shreds of dignity, she mustered what she hoped was a calm and poised smile. ‘Well – goodbye.’

Outside the pub door, she blew out a huff of annoyance. ‘Oh Lord, how to make a complete fool of yourself in ten seconds flat.’

Maria snickered. ‘It’s not every day you cause a star of stage and screen to slop beer down his trousers, is it?’

‘First and last time, I hope.’

‘But you missed an opportunity,’ Maria went on as they set off along the street.

‘What opportunity?’

‘You could have asked him to come on Saturday.’

‘Oh, sure. Excuse me, Mr. Nicholas, but now I’ve stared at your thigh, may I invite you to the taster day at the Mist Na Mara Dance and Drama Studio? It’s like the Royal Academy – but smaller.’

Maria snorted. ‘Slight understatement. How many phone calls have we had as a result of the five hundred flyers we posted through letter boxes? Twelve at the last count?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘If only thirteen kids sign up for the classes, we won’t even cover basic expenses, let alone the rent.’

‘We had about two hundred hits on the website after Liam Duffy did that great write-up for us in last week’s Connacht Courier, and he said he’d do another one in tomorrow’s edition.’

‘I’m keeping everything crossed.’ Maria hesitated for a moment before going on, ‘Shoot me now, but I gave him a list of all the shows you’ve danced in at Covent Garden. He was well impressed.’

Ellie grimaced. ‘I hope he didn’t ask why I’ve abandoned the professional stage to teach dancing here in Clifden.’

‘He did, but I said you had personal reasons.’

‘Thanks, because I’m not aiming to drum up any sympathy votes.’

They reached Maria’s car, and less than ten minutes later pulled up outside the stone barn on the Mist Na Mara estate, which had been restored and converted into a four-room studio.

Ellie opened the door and cast a wry smile at her cousin. ‘This is rather like opening the door to my new future, isn’t it?’

Maria winced. ‘I still worry that I pushed you into this too soon.’

‘You didn’t push me at all. When you told me your boss intended to rent out the barn as a dance and Drama Studio, I decided it was exactly what I wanted to do. Okay,’ she added, as they went into the small entrance hall, ‘let’s stick the rest of the displays on the walls, and then we can finalise the programme for Saturday. Liz and Brona said they’d come as soon as they can, once they both finish work.’

* * *

It was nearly ten o’clock before Ellie collapsed on the couch in the apartment she shared with Maria, and nursed her mug of hot chocolate.

‘I have a mental list of about a million jobs we still need to do tomorrow.’

Maria laughed. ‘We must have made some progress, because this afternoon you said we had three million.’

‘All right, I’m exaggerating, but it’s only because I’m nervous. I keep having this nightmare of no one turning up on Saturday.’

‘So you should have invited Dan Nicholas, and I could have called Connemara Radio and asked them to announce it. Bet hundreds would come up to see him.’

Ever since lunchtime, Ellie had tried to ignore the quiver which ran through her every time she recalled Dan Nicholas’s dark eyes and devastatingly attractive smile. She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Knowing my luck, I’d spill hot tea down him and he’d sue me for damages.’ She sat upright. ‘Tea! I forgot to ask Brona about the teacups she said she’d borrow from school.’

‘She brought one box yesterday and will bring another tomorrow, and Liz has bought the plastic cups and orange juice for the kids.’

‘Great. Now I’m going to do a final check of the photo and video presentation.’

‘Ellie, you’ve done about ten final checks.’

She gave a sheepish grin. ‘I need to stop panicking, don’t I? Perhaps I should go to bed now and hope I don’t have nightmares about everything going wrong on Saturday.’

Maria laughed. ‘Maybe you’ll dream of Dan Nicholas instead.’

Her treacherous heart quickened. ‘That would be another nightmare, wouldn’t it? Anyway, what do you want for breakfast tomorrow? I’ll pick up some bagels or croissants from Phil’s after I’ve done my jog.’

* * *

At seven-thirty the next morning, Ellie fastened the strap of her knee support. Although the scars were fading, they were still a reminder of the surgery which had followed the car crash nearly a year ago, but at least she had now regained most of her mobility and muscle power. She pulled on her black leggings and slipped a grey tee-shirt over her head before going to the kitchen for a glass of orange.

A few minutes later, she stood on the grass verge overlooking the harbour, drew in a deep breath of the sharp salty air, and smiled as she surveyed the tranquil scene. The tide was in, and the morning sun glinted on the rippling water where moored yachts and dinghies swayed lazily. On her left, beyond the grey, white, and beige buildings of the small town and its two church spires reaching into the sky, the outline of the Twelve Bens was soft and hazy.

After clipping her phone to her armband and adjusting the earpiece, she held onto one of the white stone mooring posts while she did some stretching exercises. Then she checked her watch and set off on her customary morning jog, matching her pace to the music in her ear. The narrow lane passed the boatyard before turning away from the harbour and winding upward between shrubs and rough grass until it reached the wider road which climbed into the centre of the town. It was flanked by colour-washed stone cottages, guest houses, and holiday apartments, and she waved to old Mr. Coyne who was watering the window boxes of his cottage as usual.

When she reached the supermarket at the corner of the market square, she looked at her watch again. Not too bad. She wasn’t yet back to her pre-accident times but, after three months on crutches followed by several more months with a cane earlier in the year, it was more than satisfying to be able to jog again.

As she headed up Market Street toward the bakery café, she was about to switch off her music when the first few notes of The Nutcracker overture sounded in her ear. She slowed her steps to listen and allowed herself a small, nostalgic smile as she thought about Alexei and the pas de deux, which had been the start of their four-year partnership. Her smile faded at the memory of the charismatic Russian’s devastation when she broke the news to him.

‘Milaya moya,’ he said, his eyes glistening. ‘My darling. I am desolate. I will never find another partner like you.’

‘Alexei, there are many dancers who would love to work with you.’

He shook his head. ‘No one can create the magic we have created together. What will you do now you cannot dance?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. At least that was honest.

Now, almost six months later, she was still convinced she’d done the right thing, despite the stab of guilt each time Alexei called her after yet another explosive break-up with a potential new partner. Whenever he asked if she had recovered enough to dance with him again, she always avoided a straight answer. Instead, she tried to reassure him that eventually he would find someone who would live up to his high standards. Inwardly, she prayed it would be soon.

She muted her phone and pushed open the door of the café. With a bit of luck, it would have complimentary copies of the Connacht Courier for customers to read.

Phil, the russet-bearded café owner, bagged the almond and chocolate croissants for her, and she sniffed the rich aroma of coffee. ‘And a skinny latte, please.’

‘To go?’

‘No, I’ll have it here.’ She collected a copy of the Courier from the counter. ‘I need ten minutes to relax before facing the rest of today.’

‘Are you all ready for tomorrow? My kids are both excited about it. I’m sure Ava thinks she’ll be dancing on the stage at the Station House Theatre by next weekend.’

‘Well, it might take rather more than a week to prepare for a public performance, but we’re hoping to organise a dance and drama show in March or April next year.’ She laughed as she picked up her coffee. ‘Probably not at the Station House, though. I’m not sure what the seating capacity is but—’

‘About two hundred,’ said a deep voice behind her.

As she turned, her arm bumped against the man, and she jerked away. Her coffee slopped over the top of the glass mug, and she jumped back further to avoid the scalding liquid on her hand or legs.

The man laughed. ‘Your reflexes are better than mine were yesterday.’

Mortified, she gaped at the amused face of Dan Nicholas.

‘Oh, no,’ she breathed. ‘You must think I go around bumping into people and spilling drinks everywhere.’

‘Twice in two days is an impressive record.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No apology needed. Unless—’ He surveyed the floor. ‘Unless it’s to Phil, who’ll need to mop up that coffee before someone slips. A large tea for me, please, Phil,’ he added.

‘Coming right up,’ Phil said.

Ellie turned to the grinning café owner. ‘Pass me a cloth, and I’ll wipe the floor.’

He held out a sponge mop. ‘Here you go, Ellie.’

She looked from the bag of croissants and newspaper in one hand, to her coffee mug in the other. Before she had time to put anything back on the counter, Dan Nicholas stretched out his hand to take the mug from her.

‘I’ll hold, you mop,’ he said. ‘Or should I mop?’

‘No, no, I’ll do it.’

She crouched down, wishing she could crawl out of the café, away from this second embarrassing encounter, but after wiping the spillage, she reluctantly straightened up again.

By this time, Dan Nicholas held two mugs, hers and his own. She handed the mop back to Phil, and gave Dan a weak smile. ‘Thanks for holding my coffee.’

She reached to retrieve her mug, but he took a step back. ‘Oh no, we’re not risking another spill. I’ll carry these. Where shall we sit?’

Where shall we—? Dan Nicholas wanted to sit with her?

‘Oh – erm – anywhere.’

He led the way to a square wooden table next to the window at the back of the café, and she sat down opposite him.

This was surreal! Even in her wildest flight of fantasy, she couldn’t have imagined meeting Dan Nicholas again, let alone sitting with him in Phil’s café.

In the next second, panic gripped her. What on earth were they going to talk about? Should she tell him she recognised him? Would he think her over-inquisitive if she asked him about his TV dramas? Searching for inspiration, she looked through the window at the harbour and the long narrow bay stretching into the distance beneath a clear blue sky.

‘It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?’

Oh Lord, how inane that sounded.

He nodded as he stirred his tea. ‘I love mornings like this, when the hills shimmer like an impressionist painting.’

She smiled. ‘So do I. I have to stop myself admiring the view while I’m jogging, otherwise I’d probably trip over something.’

‘I assumed you must have been running or jogging. Do you jog every morning?’

She cringed inwardly when she realised she had a damp sweat stain from the neck of her tee-shirt down to between her breasts, and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. ‘I guess I don’t look my best when I’ve been jogging, do I?’

He smiled. ‘You have a lovely healthy glow.’

Embarrassed, she pushed back some loose strands of hair into the scrunchy holding her pony tail, and forced a laugh. ‘Thank you for being polite. In answer to your question, I do try to do a couple of miles each morning.’

‘You’re far more energetic than I am. This morning, I strolled leisurely along Sky Road, admired the view, breathed in the tangy air, listened to the seagulls squawking – and wondered why I ever left Clifden.’

Relaxing a little, since he appeared to be so at ease, she gave him a curious look. ‘Why you ever left? Did you live here at one time?’

‘I was born and brought up here, but couldn’t wait to leave when I was in my teens. Dublin seemed far more exciting than a sleepy little town in the west of Ireland.’

She hesitated for a moment and made a decision. ‘Before I make an even bigger fool of myself than I’ve already done, may I ask you something?’

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the corners of his mouth quirked upward. ‘I think I know what you’re about to say, but go on.’

Go on? What had she been about to say? Mesmerised by his dark eyes and perfectly-shaped lips, she lost all ability to think coherently. He was giving her the same intense gaze she’d seen several times in The Whelans at War.

When his eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question, she forced her brain into gear again, and smiled. ‘I don’t think I need to ask, after all, Mr. Nicholas.’

‘Dan.’ He returned her smile and stretched his hand across the table. ‘It’s grand to meet you, Ellie. At least, I assume that’s your name, unless Phil got it wrong.’

His warm hand grasped hers for a couple of seconds, threatening to send all her senses into disarray again, until she made a determined effort to disassociate the man from the role he’d played. No way did she want him to think she was some star-struck teenager. After all, she used to meet plenty of TV and stage actors when she was with the Royal Ballet.

‘No, he didn’t, and yes, I’m Ellie.’ She gave a small chuckle. ‘And is this where I ask if you come here often?’

Dan laughed. ‘This café, you mean? Phil and I were at school together, so I usually pop in here when I’m in Clifden. What about you? Do you live here?’

‘For the last three months, yes. Before that, I was in London. Where are you based now?’

‘I have a house near Dublin, but I’m hardly ever there. I spend most of my time living in temporary accommodation in various places. I think I’ve been to every county in Ireland, but Clifden was, and always will be, my home.’

Ellie smiled. ‘I feel the same about the village in Yorkshire where I grew up.’

‘So why are you here in Clifden? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.’

Rather than go into a detailed explanation, she opted for the simplest answer. ‘Because my cousin Maria lives here, and we’re about to open a dance and Drama Studio at the Mist Na Mara Arts Centre.’

He stopped with his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. ‘Is that right? You’re an actress?’

‘I’m a dancer. Maria’s the actress. Oh, not like you,’ she added, ‘but she’s worked at Mist Na Mara for about five years as part of the Living History group. They’ve done weekend drama workshops, but not held regular weekly classes, so that’s what we’re hoping to do.’

‘Just you and your cousin?’

‘No, there are four of us. Maria will concentrate on Musical Theatre, which is what she originally trained for.’

‘And you’re doing dance, of course.’

‘Well, dance covers a dozen or more different disciplines, but I’ll be teaching ballet and contemporary, and Liz, who also works at Mist Na Mara, will take the tap classes.’

‘What about the drama?’

‘Maria’s friend Brona teaches English at the secondary school, but she’s done some drama training, so she’ll be taking the straight drama classes.’

‘Which also covers a dozen or more different disciplines.’

‘You’re right, but we need to start with the basics.’

‘And make it fun.’

‘Of course.’ She nodded and smiled. ‘Kids will vote with their feet if they’re bored, so we want them to enjoy learning new skills, which will encourage them to stay, and hopefully bring their friends. Debates about Stanislavski’s and Strasberg’s acting methods can come later.’

Dan laughed. ‘I remember having those discussions when I did drama studies at Trinity, but in the end, every actor finds his own method. Personally, I rely a lot on imagination.’

‘Maria would agree with you. I keep telling her she has an over-active imagination. By now, she’ll be thinking I’ve been swept away by the tide, or—’

‘Or been waylaid by a strange man in a café?’

His smile and the arching of his eyebrows sent all her senses into overdrive again. She gulped the rest of her coffee. Not even Maria would be guessing what had actually happened. For a split second, she recalled her cousin’s idea of inviting Dan to the open day, but that really was a step too far. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything if he was there.

She picked up the bag of croissants. ‘I’m sorry, I need to go now, but it’s been great talking to you.’

‘I’ve enjoyed it, too, and hopefully our next meeting won’t involve any spilled drinks.’ He stood as she squeezed past the table. ‘Bye for now, Ellie, and good luck with your new venture.’

‘Thanks. Oh, and I loved The Whelans at War, by the way.’

He smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘Well – bye, then.’

Outside the door, she paused for a few seconds, and took a deep breath. Chatting with Dan Nicholas had definitely been a different start to her day. He’d set her pulse racing in a way no other man had ever done – but his dark eyes probably had the same effect on every woman he talked to. There was no point reading anything more into the moments when their eyes had met.

She glanced back through the café window and saw he was leafing through the newspaper she’d left behind. Damn, she’d forgotten to check if Liam had managed to get another article about them into this week’s edition. Never mind, she could pick up another copy at the supermarket.

* * *

Dan sipped his tea as he flicked through the paper Ellie had left on the table. Woman airlifted to hospital after N59 accident – Local petrol station reduces price of fuel – New dance and drama…

His eyes focused on the photograph of Ellie and three other women standing next to a sign with the words Mist Na Mara Dance and Drama Studio.

It was a good photo of her, and he smiled. Yesterday, he’d sympathised with her after she caused him to spill his Guinness, but there’d been something else, something he couldn’t quite define, that kept her in his mind even while he listened to the on-going saga of his brother’s problems. Today, when he recognised her heading up Market Street to the coffee shop, he’d quickened his pace, and was aware his heart rate had quickened, too.

The past few minutes’ conversation had only served to increase what he admitted was a surge of interest. Not simply because she was a beautiful woman, with her oval face, long fair hair, and slim figure, but more because he loved how her clear blue-grey eyes mirrored every inflection of her voice, from yesterday’s embarrassment and chagrin to today’s interest and amusement.

He scanned the article below the photograph: The new Dance and Drama Studio at Mist Na Mara Arts Centre is offering a taster day on Saturday between one and four pm to all boys and girls aged between 5 and 16 who are interested in dance or drama. Ballet and contemporary dance classes will be led by Eleanor Vaughan, and tap dancing by…

The name jerked through him. Eleanor Vaughan? Was that Ellie’s full name? But surely not the same Eleanor Vaughan?

He held his breath, and every nerve tensed as he read on: After training at the Royal Ballet School in London, Eleanor, now aged 29, became a principal dancer five years ago, and has performed many of the major classical roles including Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, Odette in Swan Lake, and the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker…

A lead weight dropped in his stomach, as his lawyer’s words echoed in his mind: ‘Eleanor Vaughan’s lawyer is claiming compensation on the basis that her career as a professional dancer with the Royal Ballet has been cut short due to the injuries she received in the accident.’

His response had been immediate and terse. ‘Pay it.’

‘We could be talking of a six-figure sum here, but we can contest—’

‘No. Go for an out-of-court settlement. It was my fault and I’ll pay it.’

His lawyer had dealt with everything. The compensation had been less than anticipated, and he paid. Nothing appeared in the press, and he breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that was the end of it all.

The last person he expected to meet here in Clifden was Eleanor Vaughan.

Chapter 2

After they’d demolished pizzas from the local takeaway on Saturday evening, Maria poured red wine into four glasses and handed them out. ‘Are we ready for the post-mortem?’

Ellie looked around at them all. ‘What do you think?’

‘Much better than I dared to hope,’ Liz said.

Brona picked up the registration forms from the coffee table and flipped through them. ‘Plenty of beginners and juniors, but not many seniors. Some parents did ask about an adult drama group, though.’

‘And several mums said they’d like to try tap dancing,’ Liz added.

Ellie nodded. ‘If you’re willing to run those sessions, that would be great, but I think we also need to find some way of targeting the secondary school kids if we want the senior classes to be viable.’

Maria smirked. ‘I told you we should have invited Dan Nicholas.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought The Whelans at War would appeal to teenagers.’

‘Probably not, but he was also in a movie based on one of the video games they all play. Agent Omega. It had lots of action and fights and car chases. They’d have queued around the block to see him.’

‘Maybe.’ Ellie didn’t want to admit there’d been times during the afternoon when she’d half-wished Dan would walk in. Part of her wondered if he might have seen the article about the open day in the Courier she’d left in the café; the other part told her not to be so ridiculous, of course he wouldn’t come – and he didn’t. ‘But it’s too late now, so let’s think of some more realistic ways of attracting the teenagers.’

‘I put up a few posters at school,’ Brona said, ‘but I think we could be more pro-active there.’

‘In what way?’

‘I’ll ask if you can come into school to talk about the value of dance, although you might need to offer something like street dance, rather than ballet and tap, to attract today’s teens.’

By the time Brona and Liz left, after nearly two hours’ discussion of strategies and future plans, Ellie was drooping with exhaustion. It had been a long day, with a combination of excited anticipation and nervous tension, but now it was over, she had mixed feelings.

‘I can’t decide whether I’m elated or disappointed,’ she admitted to Maria.

‘We have over seventy applications, which is pretty good for starters.’

‘Yes, but some kids who came this afternoon didn’t sign up for anything. Does that mean they weren’t interested in what we’re offering?’

‘Perhaps they couldn’t decide what to do. One girl in my first taster session wasn’t sure whether she wanted to join the Musical Theatre or the Drama class, but I reminded her she could bring her form any evening next week between five and five-thirty.’

Ellie nodded. ‘The same happened in one of my sessions with a pair of identical twins. One was keen to learn tap dancing, but the other seemed to be torn between tap and drama. I’m not sure whether they actually signed up for anything.’

‘I bet they’ve gone home to talk it over with their parents, and hopefully others will be doing that, too.’

‘Okay, we’ll see what next week brings.’

‘And if you meet Dan Nicholas again at the café, you should invite him to visit us. Tell him we don’t mind if it’s one evening or a Saturday, as long as he gives us a day’s notice to advertise on Connemara Radio.’

Ellie laughed, despite the now-familiar quickening of her pulse every time she thought about Dan Nicholas. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. I bet he’s back in Dublin by now, or wherever he’s filming his next TV drama or movie.’

* * *

‘Coming in for a nightcap?’ Kevin asked, as they approached the modern bungalow on the outskirts of Clifden on Saturday evening.

Dan shook his head. ‘Not tonight. I have to be up early tomorrow to drive down to Cork.’

‘How long will you be away?’

‘Three days, four at the most. Depends on the weather, but I’ll be back here next weekend in plenty of time for your mediation session. Meanwhile, stop worrying. Your lawyer said yesterday there wasn’t a hope in hell of Noreen winning.’

Kevin heaved a sigh, and rested his hand on the low, wrought iron railing in front of his home. ‘I’m going to look so feeble, though, aren’t I?’

‘Kev, we’ve been through all this. These days, people accept that men can be on the receiving end of domestic abuse in exactly the same way as women.’ Dan put his hand gently on his younger brother’s arm. ‘I honestly don’t know how you coped with everything for so long.’

‘She was always sorry afterwards, and begged me to forgive her, and said it wouldn’t happen again, but of course it did.’

‘Until you decided enough was enough. Can’t blame you for that.’

‘The girls were worried and scared, and I couldn’t trust Noreen not to throw something at them when she had one of her temper fits.’

‘It still took guts to make the break and