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Now!, better known as FAN!, a group of militant activists. Her approach to matrimonial litigation was equally bellicose.
    â€˜I agree her claims are excessive, but let’s face it, what you offered originally wouldn’t keep one of her cats in Whiskas.’
    â€˜I’m prepared to negotiate,’ said Finbar with dignity. ‘All I want is a fair settlement; surely that’s not too much to ask. What’s the old saying - let justice be done, though the heavens fall?’
    â€˜Forget that idea,’ said Harry amiably. ‘It might ruin our case.’

Chapter Four
    â€˜Women!’ expostulated Finbar, stretching out his arms in an extravagant parody of despair which almost swept a strawberry pavlova from a passing dessert trolley. ‘They’ll be the death of me.’
    Harry drained his coffee cup. The Ensenada’s cuisine had left him feeling replete. Finbar had, as usual, been a generous host, and Harry didn’t have the heart to say that for his client to malign the opposite sex was much the same as Billy Bunter badmouthing the school tuck shop.
    â€˜Offer a few more quid each week to keep Sinead quiet,’ he advised. ‘Business isn’t so bad. You can afford it.’
    Finbar grunted. He was too free-spending for his own good much of the time, but Sinead’s admittedly exorbitant demand for maintenance pending suit had provoked a mulish refusal to compromise on a more realistic figure.
    â€˜Lord knows what I’ve done to deserve this,’ he complained.
    Persistent adultery, perhaps, reflected Harry. Spend th rift habits, general fecklessness ... but clients embroiled in messy divorce proceedings were seldom open to reason. The trick was to let them convince themselves that acrimony was counter-productive.
    â€˜When marriages break down,’ he said gently, ‘there are only losers.’
    He had first-hand knowledge of the truth of that. He and Liz had drifted apart long before she had left him for a man who promised the good life and in the end brought her nothing but disillusion and disaster.
    Finbar nodded in agreement. An opportunistic waiter took the gesture as a sign that the bill was required and produced it with a conjuror’s flourish. Scarcely glancing at the bottom line, Finbar opened his wallet and passed over a sheaf of notes. ‘A feast fit for a king,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’ After much lavish gratitude, the waiter disappeared.
    â€˜You’d never believe it these days, but at one time Sinead was a fine looking woman,’ Finbar said sorrowfully. ‘Yet look at her now! I’ve met better-dressed bag ladies.’
    Harry forbore to point out that neither he nor his client were exemplars of high fashion.
    Finbar scratched his nose. ‘I suppose I blame myself.’
    Harry leaned forward. This was more promising.
    â€˜She wasn’t keen on coming over to England originally - moving away from her friends and family in Dublin. I talked her into it; the worst mistake I ever made. We hadn’t been married long, but already the writing was on the wall. Mind, in those days she didn’t rant and rave every single time I opened my mouth.’ Finbar gave a reminiscent shake of the head. ‘I should have known better. I’d always sworn I liked women too much ever to marry one. And Sinead was hardly my type. Steeped in the faith and mad about animals, while all I ever knew about was the birds and the bees. Even in those days she was into animal lib, going on demos and that kind of malarkey. I ought to have spotted the warning signs.’
    Finbar mused for a few seconds. Then he grinned. ‘But there’s something irresistible about a passionate woman, wouldn’t you agree? And she was that, all right. So I set my sights on having my wicked way with her. In the end, I managed it, but at the cost of a wedding ring. I’d have done better with her in the long run if I’d had