73

He’d grown up learning to duck from his father’s loose fists. He’d invariably been protected by one of his brothers and witnessed them getting a dose of physical violence, but none more so shocking than his beautiful older sister, Annabelle, the day their father had whipped her mercilessly, leaving her with permanent scars. He’d been too small to step in and help her and that sense of ineffectualness had stuck with him, heightening his sense of isolation. And his sense of fear that perhaps he couldn’t protect his own child.

When they’d bought his suit for the wedding, he’d led Aneesa to a well-known designer shop on Bond Street, but on the threshold she’d pulled back and he’d looked down to see her face, puce with embarrassment. He’d frowned. He would have thought she’d have been running in, eager to indulge. But when she’d refused to budge she’d finally admitted, ‘I don’t have enough money to pay for a dress here. Let’s go somewhere else. Please.’

And gruffly, he’d assured her that h