Lady of the Dance

by Duffy, Marie; Rowley, Eddie;

Bless him.

  I thought about it for a minute.

  And then I said, ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’

  As we talked it over we both agreed there was no point in hanging around. We weren’t teenagers, so why wait for a couple of years?

  Before Mike popped the question, we had already booked a long weekend in Rome, so we decided to do the formal engagement during those few days in that most romantic of cities. Before that, there was a trip to Hatton Garden in London for one of those exciting events in a woman’s life: choosing a ring. It all happened so fast that I felt I was in some kind of a fairy tale.

  The icing on the cake was the reaction from Mike’s two daughters, Caroline and Vicky, who I had met at this point. They were delighted for us when their dad broke the news.

  * * *

  Like everything in my hectic life, the next challenge was to arrange a wedding around my commitments to Lord of the Dance.

  There was a lot going on that summer with the show playing during July and August at the Bournemouth International Centre, which was very convenient to where we were living.

  That August in 2003 Lord of the Dance had also been invited to perform at Prince Albert’s Red Cross Ball in Monte Carlo in front of an audience that also included Prince Rainier and Princess Caroline.

  I brought Mike with me, the new man in my life who I couldn’t wait to introduce to my other ‘family’ as I call the people I’ve worked with in Lord of the Dance.

  Michael Flatley was on stage rehearsing that day for the performance when I arrived in with Mike. The word was already out that we were getting married.

  When Michael spotted the two of us in the distance I could see his face light up. Then he leapt off the stage, raced at us and gave Mike the biggest hug and the warmest welcome.

  That moment hadn’t been rehearsed, but it couldn’t have gone any better.

  Mike remembers that day as a daunting experience for him, and says he felt intimidated by it. He could design chemical plants and run a £20 million project, but Lord of the Dance and the world of show business was completely alien to him. Now here he was mixing with royalty and celebrities in Monaco, and you forget what it is like being involved in something like that the first time. By then, even though I didn’t take it for granted, it was a normal working day for me. It was only afterwards when we spoke about it that I understood what it meant to Mike.

  The show was spectacular. Shirley Bassey was on the bill that night, performing one of her signature big numbers, ‘Diamonds Are Forever’. And former James Bond star Roger Moore, still looking a million dollars in his twilight years, was among the glitterati.

  That summer, at the end of our Lord of the Dance season in Bournemouth, we hosted an engagement party in the garden of my home in Three Legged Cross and a huge number of the dancers came along to help us celebrate our personal event.

  Mike couldn’t stop smiling.

  Later, when friends would ask him what he did on tour with Lord of the Dance, he’d tell them that he carried the bags.

  Then he’d add: ‘But I’ve got the best job in the world because I’m surrounded by all these beautiful women.’

  * * *

  Our wedding day was finally booked for 3 January 2004, when there was downtime in Lord of the Dance.

  In the meantime, I was flying all over the place working on the show and keeping up with all my other activities in Irish dancing.

  Mike and I were still living in our respective homes at this stage. One day I returned from a short trip away with Lord of the Dance to find that he had constructed an archway, adorned with roses, in the fence separating our houses. And there was a statue of Venus, the goddess of love, on the other side.

  Although he’d never admit to it, Mike is a true romantic.

  If you asked him about the romantic archway today, he’d tell you that it was for practical reasons. It allowed access to both houses without us having to walk by the side of a busy road. Of course, that was the end result, but there was romance at the heart of it.

  As well as sailing, another passion of Mike’s is gardening. I remember arriving home from abroad on another occasion to find a splash of rose beds planted in my garden as a surprise for me. There was another personal touch: the roses were white and yellow, the colours of the Vatican flag. Mike had chosen them knowing my devotion to the Catholic religion.

  It was so lovely to come back to all of those different surprises from Mike during that period in the summer of our romance.

  Our wedding the following January played out over an entire weekend, as every good Irish wedding should. Mike and I were joined by our families and friends from all walks of life during those unforgettable few days. I was delighted that my late husband Ian’s son, Barry, was able to join the celebrations with his wife, Kim, and their son, Ian Jnr. Angela Meleady and family, who had been such a big part of my life, were there too.

  We had Mike’s daughters, Caroline and Vicky, and their families. Caroline and her partner Lee were accompanied by their children, Adele and Kieran. Vicky and her husband, Mark, attended with their children, Aaron and Chloe. It was a real joy for Mike to be surrounded by his children and grandchildren at that special time.

  It was also so lovely for Mike that his ninety-six-year-old dad was able to attend the wedding despite being in poor health. He was a real gentleman who made me feel very welcome when Mike first introduced me. Sadly, he passed away two years later.

  As well as his family, Mike was also surrounded by quite a bunch of his friends, going right back to his schooldays, as well as those he had met through his own career.

  Of course, we had our mutual friends that included my extended family in Lord of the Dance, my Irish dance friends and teachers from all over Ireland and England, plus Irish dancing adjudicators from every country.

  We kept the airports busy with people flying in from all over the world. The Ryanair plane from Dublin to Bournemouth was fully booked by our Irish guests. And there was a constant flow of shuttle buses to Heathrow Airport picking up those who made the journey across the Atlantic from North America.

  My good friend Laverne Showalter travelled all the way from Chicago with her daughter, Julie.

  When she arrived into the hotel, Laverne announced in a grand manner: ‘The mother of the bride is here!’

  Laverne was such a wonderful character. She has since passed on and I really miss her in my life today.

  Naturally, when I was planning our big day my choice was to marry in a Catholic ceremony. I went to see the priest in my local church, but he told me they couldn’t do it because Mike was divorced. Of course, I knew this would be the answer, but it was worth a try. Instead, our beautiful ceremony took place in a Chuch of England church in nearby Verwood.

  My nephew, Len, gave me away, as the saying goes. Being a Glaswegian, Len decided to mark his heritage by wearing a traditional kilt, and he brought along his nephew from Scotland to serenade me on the bagpipes as I entered the church, and again later as I emerged from that house of worship with my new husband.

  Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain was our singer at the ceremony and she added so much to the experience. Orfhlaith has the most gorgeous voice and her rendering of Ave Maria is very haunting and moving to hear. This was Orfhlaith’s second time to sing at a wedding where I was the bride, as, of course, she had also travelled to Kansas for my marriage to Ian.

  When we emerged from the church as man and wife, Michael Flatley was among the first guests to congratulate us and shower us with big hugs and kisses in that warm way he greets people.

  The Haven Hotel at the tip of the Sandbanks Peninsula in Poole was the venue for the wedding reception that followed. It was Mike’s hotel of choice for our wedding day. In the years when he was out on his yacht, Mike would pass The Haven which sits on the water at the entrance to Poole Harbour. It always had a place in his heart.

  It is a hotel with a lot of history as it was home to the Italian inventor and physicist, Guglielmo Marconi, from 1898 to 19
26. Marconi, of course, invented radio and established wireless communication between France and England across the English Channel. There is a Marconi Lounge in The Haven with lots of old photographs from his time living and working there with his family.

  Marconi had a reputation for hosting big communal family meals when he was residing there, and we certainly carried on that tradition on our wedding day. There was great food, lots of champagne and endless bottles of wine, plus singing and dancing into the early hours of the following day.

  After the champagne corks popped at the reception before our meal that day, Michael Flatley had a surprise wedding present for Mike and I. He escorted us outside to the hotel forecourt where a two-seater Mercedes SL convertible was wrapped in an enormous pink bow.

  During the evening I made a little wedding speech stressing how blessed Mike and I felt to be surrounded by our families and great friends from all the different areas of our lives that day.

  As the hours slipped from night into morning the party never sagged. Marconi may have invented radio, but nobody creates a hooley like the Irish and our friends when we all get together.

  The Maldives in the Indian Ocean was the paradise where we then spent our honeymoon. The island we stayed on was just like heaven on earth. We spent our days walking barefoot in the sand and soaking up the sunshine, while our nights were all about romantic dinners. The sea temperature was like a warm bath. I wanted to stay there forever.

  It was the perfect start to our new life together as man and wife.

  * * *

  Although both my marriages came late in life, I had a lot to be thankful for. I made a very good choice when I married my first husband, Ian. The five years that followed were blissful. I was never happier. And I never thought I’d get a second chance to have that kind of life after he died.

  They say that lightning never strikes twice. Well, I’m happy to say that it does.

  Mike is the most wonderful husband and we’ve had a lovely life together since we wed. Of course we have our little arguments like normal people do, but they’re always minor issues. Mike can be very stubborn and I don’t always get my own way, but we know how to compromise. We are different people, but at the same time we complement each other.

  He is a very sociable person and he’s good at entertaining people. When we first got together he had no interest in cooking, but now he’s king of the barbeque.

  Mike never had a problem fitting into the Irish dancing world and was immediately welcomed with open arms. Although it was all new to him, he then accompanied me to the feiseanna and the international championships. Sometimes, of course, he’d find it a bit tedious sitting in a hall watching competitions, and he’d slip away.

  But I understand that.

  Mike loves cricket and I’m not the biggest fan, so I find other things to do when he’s watching it on the television. It balances out.

  Today, I can’t imagine my life without Mike.

  He has been by my side during all of the highs and lows that we’ve experienced since walking down the aisle.

  As the wedding vows say, Mike married me ‘for better or for worse’.

  It is easy to sail along happily in the good times. But the real test of a person and of a relationship comes in the days when the going gets tough.

  And that challenge started the day I went for the results of a cancer test.

  Time for Champagne

  ‘I have to tell you that we have found breast cancer.’

  They’re the words every woman prays she’ll never hear in her lifetime.

  Sadly for me in July, 2010, that was my diagnosis. It was a huge shock, but what sent me into a total spin that awful day was the further revelation that my cancer was at an advanced stage.

  Of course, dark thoughts that I was going to die crossed my mind in that moment. But I brushed aside that possibility, stopped thinking about it, and immediately decided to face this challenge with a positive attitude. There is no other way to deal with it. The alternative is to give up without a fight. And I certainly had no intention of doing that.

  ‘This is a bummer, but that’s life,’ I thought.

  * * *

  Going back, I always had my breast check carried out every two years in England. The NHS covers all women over the age of forty for breast cancer screening, which is just great. But I had missed my last appointment due to moving house and relocating to the Poole area and it had slipped my mind after that.

  Then, in December, 2009, eight months before my diagnosis, I was over in Dublin attending a Coimisiún meeting, and when I came out of the shower one morning I noticed what looked like a scar or a line across my right breast. I wasn’t alarmed because it didn’t look like anything serious, there was no pain or discomfort, and I thought maybe it had been due to my sleeping position in the bed that night.

  It didn’t go away, but I still wasn’t too concerned about it. I’m not the sort of person who goes running to the doctor with every little ailment, so I let it pass for a few months.

  However, when it was still there in July, I decided to go to my GP, just to be on the safe side. I still didn’t have any worries because I was feeling on top form. I was fit and healthy and working really hard with Lord of the Dance at the time.

  My GP, a lovely doctor, examined me and I got no sense of anything sinister coming down the line.

  ‘How long have you been harbouring this?’ he asked in a tone that didn’t alarm me in any way.

  When I explained that I had first noticed the mark the previous December, he nodded and continued the examination.

  ‘It may be nothing,’ he said. ‘But to be on the safe side I’m going to fasttrack you to have it thoroughly checked out.’

  Within ten days I was in the Ladybird Clinic in Poole Hospital where I had a biopsy and a series of scans and tests. I was under a consultant called Abigail Evans, whom I didn’t see that day, but the attention I received from her team was second to none.

  Afterwards, they told me that it would take up to two weeks before they would have the results. However, about a week later I received a notice that my results were back and there was an appointment for me to come in and see them.

  Mike came with me, and the moment we walked into the room we both instantly knew that the news was bad. The entire team was gathered there, all of them with solemn expressions on their faces. I was then informed that I had a high grade of breast cancer.

  Mike piped up and asked, ‘Does this mean surgery?’

  ‘Yes, it will require a mastectomy,’ came the reply.

  We both took deep breaths as this news sunk in.

  Before going in that day, Mike and I had discussed what we would do if there was a serious problem. We have private medical insurance, so we agreed that we would go down that route because it’s speedier.

  The leader of the medical team said I needed to be treated immediately, but that they couldn’t take me for six to eight weeks.

  With our private insurance we were able to stay with the same consultant, Abigail Evans, who had a vacancy on her private list and was able to give me a booking within ten days.

  In fact, we were able to see her that very morning.

  Abigail is a straight-talking woman. She doesn’t beat about the bush when it comes to outlining your situation. Some would say that she hasn’t got a very good bedside manner, but Abigail’s response is that she’s there to save your life.

  So Abigail didn’t hold back, telling me how bad my aggressive cancer was, and then filling me in on what lay ahead: there would be more tests, a biopsy, at least six treatments of chemotherapy, followed by radiotherapy, and then eleven months of Herceptin treatment and reconstruction further down the road.

  As the information poured out, it was quite a shock to Mike and myself and lots of deep breaths needed to be taken.

  Then Abigail added: ‘I can take you in next week, I have a vacancy.’

  Despite the shock of the diagnosis and the awful picture of wh
at lay ahead for me, I had another concern. I was booked to go to Dubai with Lord of the Dance that week.

  ‘Well, one more week won’t make any difference,’ Abigail replied when I told her about my commitments.

  ‘You go and do what you need to do and I’ll take you in a few days after you get back.’

  That was a day neither Mike nor I will ever forget.

  We didn’t know if the cancer had been caught in time, or if it could be cured. This was something that was in the lap of the gods. But we both decided there and then that we would do our best not to let the cancer control us. It was going to have to fit in with our lives.

  On the way home that day we stopped off at The Harbour Heights Hotel overlooking all of Poole Bay.

  ‘Time for champagne!’ I said.

  And so began a lovely ritual that would continue all through my cancer operation, treatment and recovery. Through the bad days and the good ones, Mike and I would stop off at The Harbour Heights and have our bottle of champagne on our way home.

  Cancer wasn’t going to deprive us of that little pleasure.

  * * *

  The trip to Dubai for the staging of Lord of the Dance at a big corporate event helped to take my mind off my personal worries as I focused on the show, although I must admit that I was going through an emotional roller coaster as I knew what I was facing when I came back.

  In Dubai, I confided in some of the key members of the troupe, and naturally they were quite shocked.

  Michael Flatley wasn’t with the troupe and after the show I phoned to tell him how it went.

  ‘I have some good news and some bad news, Michael,’ I said.

  There was a pause at the other end of the phone.

  ‘I’ll give you the good news first,’ I added.

  So I told Michael that the performance had gone without a hitch and the dancers had enjoyed standing ovations.

  ‘So what’s the bad news?’ Michael then asked.

  ‘I have a little problem,’ I said hesitantly, feeling myself well up with emotion.