Connor had brought in the Christmas tree this morning, having hauled it home from a nearby nursery. He and some of his mates with a van from the large and ever-expanding scrap and auto yard he ran had fetched it indoors, wedged it carefully into a bucket, given it a drink. Connor had even bought new decorations, expensive ones, showy ones, which Shauna loved. Give the girls something to talk about when they came over for lunch.

Shauna was completely settled into this gorgi way of life now; it was as if she had never known anything else, never lived in a muddy campsite or been from traveller stock at all. Her Everett ancestors had lived in the Irish Free State and they had roamed the lanes in horse-drawn painted trailers, repairing pots and pans, sharpening knives and selling woven wicker baskets. But none of that was for her. This was her life, the life of a lady who lunched, a society hostess. The past was done and she wanted to forget all that.

Now she was able to fully live the way she had always craved. She was still a member of the tennis club, she played golf with Tanya and Chloe. And if they ever talked about her behind her back as that jumped-up gyppo Shauna Flynn who was no better than she ought to be, then she’d yet to hear about it. Frankly, even if they did, she didn’t give a fuck. Tolerating those two snobby bitches and sucking up to them over the years had been a small price to pay for moving in the social circles she wanted to. Tolerating the ongoing visits from Jeb Cleaver was another thing she just had to soak up. And she did. Josh didn’t have a clue about that, and she was very careful to keep Jeb away whenever Connor or Aysha might be about.

Aysha.

It upset Shauna that Josh had never taken to Aysha the way he had to Connor. She didn’t know why and she felt sorry for Aysh, who was moody and awkward whenever Josh was near, radiating general disapproval in the poor girl’s direction. So Aysha had become a mum’s girl, Shauna’s creature, and Shauna knew just how to push Aysha’s buttons, pulling her in for cuddles and saying, ‘Who loves you, Aysh? Who’d do anything for you?’

Shauna smiled indulgently at Connor. Unlike his problematic sister, he’d been a good-natured baby, then a lovely kid. Now he was a stunningly handsome man with a strong look of his father about him. Connor was her prince, the pride and joy of her life. He’d set up the auto and scrapyard business with his mate Benedict, and it was a thriving legitimate business, a limited company.