"Holy Shit!" He didn't dare open his eyes, instead a slightly dulled brain struggled to remember exactly how he came to be here, as far as he could tell without moving a muscle, and that seemed for the best right now- in his bed with Megan. Whiskey chasers-hmm- despite the initial stomach churning sickliness they had both decided that those were the ticket, even though it had been Scotch and his Old Man told him not to drink Scotch. Should have listened to his Dad. Fuck. Right, work forwards slowly. They’d talked a bit, not much it had to be said, more interested in sinking that whiskey and luckily for them no one seemed to be firing through the windows of that particular establishment, though from the looks of the bar and its patrons he had been sure that was only a matter of time. She had said about how she'd found out stuff about that Ned Kelly fella from the net. Jesus, it was ALL coming back now. About deportations from Ireland, well he had known about that already- the petty crimes and political opposition that guaranteed Catholics a long voyage to see dark strangers, who needed crystal ball eh?  Jamie blanched a bit- she had grinned as she told him about 'fan fiction', a whole bunch of stories she said, but Christ he had nearly choked right there and then when she said they were mostly about Joe Byrne and Ned Kelly getting it on. Best not think about that again now, there were more pressing matters, like the fact that Danny was gonna kill him for sure. Fuck.

Jamie squinted just one eye open, Yes it was her, well ok so he knew that, he knew what she smelled like. Did he? WHY did he know that? No, do not start down that road mate, and he slipped his hand away from where it rested on her waist. Cloth, he could feel cloth! Oh thank Christ! She still had her t-shirt on, there was a God, though not sure Danny was going to see the fine line he was drawing here, and him- YES! Boxers. His fingers confirmed it, feeling the elastic around his hips. Ok that was good...so he let his mind move from the pub to his flat. Though neither of them could speak much he just hadn't wanted to let her go, and she had seemed in no mood either. That’s right- he had made coffee, there being nothing else to drink, and sat on the sofa next to her. They had just breathed the same air. For ages.
"Yer want me to walk you home lass?" and she had just shaken her head and all filled up with tears and asked him if she could stay with him and that had been that- his arms all round her and he had kissed her, he frowned as a flood of something hit him. It hadn't been right and that was sod all to do with Danny. Christ she was a beautiful Lass and she’d kissed him back, held his head in her hands and kissed him back. Ok so they had persevered for a while, he felt just a twinge deep in his belly at the thought of soft skin under his fingers, but even when she had brushed her hand over his cock, they both knew this wasn't it. Alright they could have fucked all the same, frankly Megan wasn't obviously the sort of woman who was holding out for Mr. Right and he, well the distinct lack of chocolate boxes and roses never stopped him before. Holy Mary! So why hadn't he just done it? All he had felt was an ache to be closer. He had wrapped her up in himself, cuddled her and taken her to bed instead of home.

The banging on the door almost had him leave his skin. This is it. Danny is here and you have his girlfriend in yer bed. Whatever they had or hadn't done hardly diverting from the material facts, or more precisely the facts under the material. He pulled back the duvet, a flush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks for a second as he looked at the cover, Jesus she was gonna laugh her head off; his mum had bought it for him down the market when he was about 12 and into Pokemon and well, it was still in one piece so why throw it away? Though actually come to think of it he could do with one of those things right now…'Fire breathing thing- I chose you!' just as he opened the door. Fuck this was no time to think about home furnishings and cartoons- this was time to go get his head caved in. She snuggled down into his pillow as the colder air hit her skin and Jamie stole just one look, not quite sure if he was pleased or not as it was confirmed that he hadn't charmed her knickers off after all.

He set out towards the door with some resolve, sure he could explain, "She was upset Danny mate. Nothing I could do but have her stripped half naked in me single bed" Hmmm. Ok right then, he could pretend not to be in. Hey he had never seen Dublin! He could go there for a day…month or several. That wasn't going to work- Danny would camp outside 'til Jamie ran out of bread, milk and electric tokens. A peep through the spy hole and he smiled like a condemned man granted a last minute reprieve, and as he swung the door open he could have hugged her. "Katie! Good to see you this morning! You have no idea how good in fact. What can I do for you?"

Well she couldn't help herself. Not everyday Jamie stood in front of her in a pair of boxers shorts and nothing else, all tousled and with that warm bed smell that was about to make her knees bend "I think you already did something.." He was sweet when he blushed, well even more so and Katie let her eyes take it all in before she asked "Well are you inviting me in or are all the neighbours to see? Only I have something to show you"

Just don't think about it, he gritted his teeth and gave in, well he was beginning to shiver anyhow and he doubted goose bumps were his most attractive look "Aye well why not?. No reason why not, at all"

"Are you alright Jamie?"

Of course he bloody wasn't! "Grand...just grand", he did think of going to get his trousers from the bedroom, those smart new ones he just bought, could see them now folded on the back of the chair.. but then Megan might wake and then she would get up, and ...no it didn't bear thinking about, best just sit down and let Katie show him whatever it was that was so important for a Sunday morning, and best not to think too much about Megan in his bed and Katie on the sofa, especially not in these shorts. This could be on the fuckin’ telly. Katie shook her head with what seemed to be her remarkable stroke of luck and dipped into her bag.
"It's just that I found this article in a magazine, about that Ned Kelly film you went to see- an interview with Orlando Bloom, the guy who played Joe Byrne"

"The fella with the pointy ears again.." he couldn't help making a dig to cover up the swallow in his throat as he heard that name.

"Yes Jamie and he has a deal to say about that film, excuse me I thought you might be interested" Feigned outrage covered Katie's assumption that he had guessed an ulterior motive to her visit- it was rather thin as reasons went, hardly pressing news from the war front, but she thought she had gotten away with it when he smiled with resignation.

"Tell you what then- you go put the kettle on and I will give it a read eh? There might be a clean cup in the cupboard.” but she was already gone. Jamie unfolded the magazine like it might bite and grimaced, Jesus, if Michael saw him reading this shit he would never live it down.

*  

Larrikin Heels and Ladies Dresses


This job comes with perks Girls, and my favourite so far this year has been Orlando Bloom stepping in to the offices of Sneak, and having beaten off the attentions of every female in the building, agreeing to let me talk with him about his latest offering Ned Kelly- a far cry from the bows and arrows of The Lord of the Rings and the wet shirt competition that was POTC, this is a tale of Irish convicts in Australia. The principal character of the film is Heath Ledger who embodies the charming leader of the gang, but I had a date with his dashing sidekick.

Glad for once that I had made notes and prepared my questions, I intended to find out what had persuaded this quite frankly devastating man to don a bushy beard and get himself shot in Ned Kelly, a film that you will have to hurry if you don't want to miss, since showings are limited and soon to vanish completely. If it had been hard to concentrate during the photo shoot, sitting across a sofa from one of the most eligible bachelors, though don't tell his girlfriend I said that, was to prove even more so. Intrepid interviewer though that I am I asked him what he had thought when he first read the script

 "At the beginning, the director didn't know which role to give me" Orlando explained "He hesitated between Joe Byrne's character and Steve Hart's. Immediately I read the script, I was attracted to Joe, the right-hand man of Ned Kelly. He was an honest man and he would kill and die for his friends". I was concentrating dear reader, I promise, he was almost painful in his earnestness as he told me that Joe was no bloodthirsty and unscrupulous brute, but he son of a gold miner, a lad who stood out because of his good education and his knowledge of several languages. Didn't he shoot his childhood friend though? I enquire obviously anxious to reveal the extent of my background knowledge. "His friend, Aaron, betrayed the gang and Joe, informed on them to the police and Joe was faced with a choice. I don't think it would have been easy for him to make a decision like that- he was extremely loyal" Not easy to kill a man while you are wearing a dress either, oh silly me i might have hit a nerve. This young man sprawled, yes I am sorry to rub salt in the wounds of your hearts, but he was sprawled, by the side of me, might even have been a little irritated with yours truly, but I couldn't say for sure, he is an actor after all. "I don't think that's the point really, it was a disguise, he did what he had to do." Nice lace though Orlando.

Time to kiss and make up and I venture that Joe Byrne was also known as a real seducer of women, having several at a time in different towns all over the state of Victoria, and you will be disappointed to hear that my inquiry as to whether he had been well cast in this respect met with little response. No, Orlando seemed determined to tell me about the injustice the Irish deportees experienced and how much he identified himself with his character. "During the shooting, we had the impression that the ghosts of the gang members were watching us. It was strange..." Ghosts? Now I resisted the temptation to grab his hand- it being broad daylight and there not being a cobweb in sight and contented myself instead with scooting a little closer to inquire more. I asked him what he had done to prepare himself for the role of Joe Byrne.

Orlando had collected information on the life of the real Joe Byrne. He even searched rare photos of this enigmatic personage. "The only photo that I found, showed Joe dead and hanging from a rope. I was shocked by this photo that I found in a catalogue of auction sales. I wanted to buy it but I gave up this idea because after I saw it, I had nightmares. This photo haunted me for days. I was so much absorbed in the character that I saw myself hung instead of him". Strict method acting clearly not advisable then in this case.

"Well and I tried to stay in character you know- we had people to advise on the accent and I did my best to stick with that all the time I was on set" I am torn Girls, torn between telling you what he sounded like when I asked for a little example, and causing you deep distress that you weren't there yourselves, but only a bit. If you can imagine for a moment a soft southern Irish brogue with a twist of outback coming out of the mouth you see above, you will only have a small clue of the stuttering this man can engender, even in an old hand like me. And don't be fooled my dears- he may want us to believe he wears a vest and eats his greens, but there is an edge of delicious unwholesomeness lurking there in those eyes. Orlando continued "He was a smart man- took pride in his appearance, you know, the only other picture of him shows him with a hand in his pocket looking dapper for a man of that time. Apparently he wore what were called larrikin heels, used to strike his match on them!" Something of a charmer you might say. Who knew...? An Oscar for the casting department gets my vote.

*

Megan woke with a start and immediately opened her eyes, she could hear voices in the other room and once the auditory scan turned up negative for Danny she lifted her head to look around. She hadn't know Jamie that long, it had been months before Danny had decided it was safe to introduce her to his mates, decided that she liked him enough that he could risk her meeting the men he spent most Friday evenings with. "Danny I will just decide for meself alright?" as he went on for the hundredth time about how she wasn't to mind Michaels foul mouth, how she wasn't to let herself get taken in by Sammy and his sad stories about not being able to find a girl, and Jamie, well Danny hadn't said too much about him, she knew they went way back but he just frowned and said "you'll see what I mean." She had liked them all of course. Michael may well have been one of the foulest mouthed men she had ever met but it was all show, though showing what exactly she had still to fathom. Most men were like that though weren't they? You figured there must be more- somewhere- just a matter of time and careful drawing out of their real selves. Maybe. Haha or not then.

Then there were men like Jamie, though now she thought on it 'like' might be an exaggeration of numbers. She cast her eyes around the room to find him someplace that wasn't a bar or a football terrace, and climbing out of bed with a grin at the duvet cover, padded over the rugs to look at his books. You could learn almost all there was to know about someone from their bookcase. Histories, travel guides to America and the Far East, novels and poems all mixed up, a journey through Zola, Yeats, Emily Bronte, well now, you didn't see that on a man's book case so often, on to Nick Hornby and Kerouac. Of course! She smiled as her hands slipped the well worn copy of Dharma Bums out of the book case. Japhy Ryder, Cody Pomeray, Alvah Goldbrook and Ray Smith- haahha- maybe Jamie, Michael, Sammy and Danny were the Modern Day Beats, maybe she could sell an article about them to one of those Sunday mags, gritty black and white pictures and intense stares in smoky rooms, while outside the sun shone bright. Megan let out a sigh; it was all very well writing pages and pages of stuff- what she needed was to get it published. Freelance journalism was not turning out to be the most lucrative career, why the hell else would she get a part time job in the ‘oh so trendy’ coffee house in Primrose Hill? It sure wasn't for the job satisfaction.

The beep of her mobile phone brought her back to his room and she sat down on the bed to read the text. 10 messages! Every one of them from Danny, well that was no surprise. First one-"hope u r having good time" second, third and fourth asking her if he should pick up some cans for her on his way home/ what time should he expect her sort of stuff, fifth and sixth a little more edgy 'so Jamie is THAT interesting you can't tear yourself away' things, seventh, eighth "where the fuck are you?", ninth a resigned or maybe seething, you never could tell with texts, "call me when u r home". The tenth, this morning made her sigh "I will take that as a 'Dear John...’ then shall I?" She typed in a longwinded apologetic message and promised to make it up to him later while her eyes searched around for more, on the bedside table the ashtray caught her attention "a roach, of course...no wonder he never gets worked up". She could almost see him now - propped up against the headboard, dark curls on a pillow and soft lips blowing smoke rings while his mind wandered off to wild dark moors and women in white nighties pleading passion from beyond the grave. Megan crawled back under the covers and breathed him in, she had some thinking to do, not least, it had to be said, about why she was still half dressed.