For Wayne McCullough, Northern Ireland's world champion boxer, the past few days have been a whirlwind of media activity. Back in his native Belfast to launch his autobiography, Pocket Rocket, he has been giving a series of interviews to newspapers and tv stations. To all appearances, it's been something of a triumphant homecoming from the US for a young sportsman whose career was almost finished by a brain scan scare five years ago.

Yet away from the cameras and behind the smiles an extraordinary private drama is unfolding - and it is one that threatens to overshadow much of what Wayne has achieved in the ring.

Although Wayne, wife Cheryl and seven-year-old daughter Wynona will be catching up with many friends and relatives during their current stay in Northern Ireland, there are some people they have no plans to see at all: namely Wayne's elderly parents, Andrew and Ann.

Worse, any chances of a reconciliation would appear to have suffered a considerable setback because of comments he makes in Pocket Rocket about his parents' alleged drinking and supposed lack of interest in his career.

Now, after much soul-searching, three of his sisters, April, Anne and Joan, have talked exclusively to the Belfast Telegraph. Though clearly uncomfortable and nervous about breaking their seven-year silence on the acrimonious falling-out, they say they've been left with little choice but to put forward their mum and dad's side of the story.

And they've also opened up the family album to reveal a series of candid shots of the young Wayne - images which, they argue, present a different picture of his upbringing to the one he portrays in his book.

"We're just so hurt and angry at what he has said about mum and dad," says April. "He claims we had an awful upbringing, but that is just not the case.

"Previously we've always tried to maintain a dignified silence about all of this, but now we feel it has gone too far. Our parents are elderly and not up to talking to the Press, so we are doing it for them."

The dispute apparently arose over a house that Wayne claimed to have bought his parents in April, 1997. The property was at Ainsworth Pass on the Woodvale estate, but though his parents lived in it briefly, they subsequently moved out. Wayne has since sold the property.

In Pocket Rocket, Wayne claims: "I don't think it (the house) was ever fully appreciated; I felt they expected more... I haven't seen my parents since one day in June, 1998, when, while standing in the house I bought them, I was accused of not doing anything for the family. I kissed my mum and dad on the cheek, told them I loved them and said I was going back over to Vegas."

But his sister April, reading from a joint statement drafted by herself, Joan and Anne, claims that while Wayne did give their parents the house, he refused to hand over the deeds of the property.

"The house was meant to be a present for mum's 50th birthday," she claims. "But after mum and dad moved in they realised they needed the deeds in order to do certain things with the property. Wayne wouldn't give them the deeds so basically the house was going to remain in his name and not in our parents' names. How did he buy them a house if they never actually owned it?

"He did kiss them and say he would see them later but he never returned. We cannot understand why he fell out with the whole family after that."

Yet, while the dispute over the house seems to have brought about the initial breach between Wayne and his parents, his latest, harshly critical remarks about his family in Pocket Rocket have caused arguably even greater upset and distress.

Put bluntly, he excoriates his parents over their alleged drinking, financial circumstances and what he claims was their lack of interest in his career.

"My dad came to some of my fights, but I felt as if I had very little emotional or financial support in the early days," writes Wayne. "My mum and dad didn't encourage me; I wasn't praised when I won fights. But I kept going anyway. I did it for me, no one else. It wasn't until I won my Commonwealth Games gold medal that my parents became involved in my career."

And, in perhaps the comments that his parents have found most hurtful, he continues: "When my brothers got married, I couldn't go to either of their weddings because I didn't have any decent clothes. My mum and dad would go out drinking every Saturday night. They always seemed to have enough money for that. I didn't have a birthday party until I met Cheryl when I was 19."

"These remarks are just outrageous," claims April, again referring to the joint statement. "Our parents always made sure Wayne got what he needed for his boxing and also got whatever clothes he required.

"He used to follow his brothers Noel and Alan to the boxing club and spar with them, and then later dad would spar with him for fun outside. It was dad who pushed him and trained him in his early years.

"And mum always made sure that when he was going to the gym his kit was washed and ironed. And of course he had birthday parties when he was growing up - we all did."

His dad, who had been a foreman at a brick works on the Ballygomartin Road, has been unemployed since it closed down. "We didn't have much when we were growing up," writes Wayne. He goes on to claim that he got mostly second-hand toys and clothes at Christmas and, while there was always food on the table, some days he went to school with "only a biscuit or a dry piece of toast for breakfast".

In their joint statement, they insist: "When we were going to school we always got a breakfast of cereal and toast, plus we got money for the tuck shop and we also had plenty of food on the table.

In Pocket Rocket, Wayne writes: "I phoned them in 2004 in an attempt to resolve things, but my mum and dad both hung up on me during separate phone conversations."

But his sisters claim their mother put the phone down on Wayne after he began shouting at her: "He phoned mum and dad to see whether someone could come out and talk to him about the book he was writing.

"But mum said she would have to see when she would be able to do that as she had a series of hospital appointments. Wayne started shouting and saying to mum that everything was always about her, and that is why she hung up."

Throughout our chat, at Anne's immaculate home off the Shankill Road, the sisters have remained composed. Their tone is not so much one of anger as bewilderment. There is a sense, too, of embarrassment at airing the dispute publicly.

"We didn't want to have to do this," says Anne. "But he has said these things in the book and it is on sale and we don't want people getting the wrong impression of us. We have to stand up for mum and dad."

In the meantime, the falling-out has cast a painful legacy. Wayne's parents haven't seen little Wynona since she was a few months old, nor has she had any contact with her aunts, uncles and many cousins.

Anne confesses she has glimpsed Wayne a couple of times over the past seven years in the city centre. "But," she says, "I didn't approach him, basically because I wasn't sure of the reception I'd receive."

"He's still our brother," says April. "We were very close when we were growing up. We've always been very proud of him and we still are. You can't change that. If he was still boxing in Belfast we'd go and watch him. "

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