London in the morning saw Megan hardly present at the Cup o’Chinos, facing the morning coffee crowd engaged in the daily struggle with boiling hot liquid in paper cups, briefcases and umbrellas. Somehow she couldn’t quite concentrate, and for the fourth time that morning messed up a Kenyan High Plains frappuchino mocha skinny half and half, the cow’s name being Daisy and not Ermintrude. Oh for a simple cup of tea. Her bovine troubles however were interrupted by a harsh whisper from behind the counter “Megan will you snap out of it? There’s some policemen want to see you” and a flood of adrenalin washed through her like an instant cold shower. Alert now she looked up to see two men waiting in the gloomy darkness at the back of the bar while slideshows of Danny and Jamie slugging each other senseless moved across her vision

“Miss Nolan, a pleasure, I have heard so much about you. Now I need a word...in private like” A voice she recognised in her gut made her shiver but being Megan she smiled curtly and led them through the back door into the alley that ran alongside it, she needed to breathe air, see the sky and see a way to run, although right now the dankness of a late November alley seemed to be more than appropriate anyhow.

“What is it that you want officer? And it is Ms”

“Inspector Boyne, Metropolitan Police. I will be brief and to the point, I understand Miss, that you know the whereabouts of Jamie McGuire being as…now how did her evidently Ex boyfriend put it, Sergeant? Oh yes being as you are shagging him. Sorry to cause offence, but I believe those were the exact words he used, and I like to be precise. In fact he told us precisely where to find you two love birds, my kind of informer, Campbell"

Megan clenched her jaw and stared back at the man in front of her with his cruel eyes and ginger beard Yer bastard. “Well then I am sorry to have to disappoint you Inspector, I have no idea where Jamie is, and I certainly haven’t hidden him behind the coffee machine, in case you are wondering.”

Boyne took another look at the woman in front of him, his eyes narrrowing just a little “Oh you think you are so clever!”

“He is hardly a fugitive anyway is he? I understand he isn’t due to appear in court for 2 weeks, so perhaps you could catch up with him there? Now I am at work, so if you don’t mind…”

Boyne was gritting his teeth with the effort of holding the acid bile in “Let me tell you something. McGuire is wanted on charges of possession, a quantity of class A drugs which I myself discovered at his flat. There’s a heavy sentence for cocaine, even in this day and age I am glad to say, and this on top of his assault charges! Well I don’t need to tell you do I? You really should pick your acquaintances, if that is the right word, more carefully Miss Nolan. You get in with the wrong gang and it could all end rather nasty, you know what I mean?”

Megan resisted the instinct to ball her fist, but was unable to keep the anger out of her voice “That is not true!”

He was smiling now “Are you calling me a liar? That’s not very friendly is it Constable? And me a simple copper operating in the line of duty to protect the public from dealers and criminals like him. But I see you are familiar with his habits then- seems Campbell was right after all about the shagging as well as the drugs, Sergeant”

“Danny told you there were drugs?!”

“Oh yes Campbell has been most helpful. Terrible thing that green eyed monster and him an Orangeman after all...Now where is McGuire?” He was so close now she could taste the cheap soap he used, see the hair that clung to his top lip and the dark passion in his eyes and she hated him, though for reasons she had neither time nor inclination to consider right now The biggest thieves and liars the sun ever shone on 

“I don’t know Inspector...” she took a step closer to his chest, his breath was in her nose now as she stared back into his face “I have nothing to tell you” but she didn’t need to speak, her defiance and her challenge bristling in the air, and she saw him flinch, an instinctive hand reaching down to his belt to where the baton was hard against his hip “Is that the best you can do Inspector? Intimidation? Come on I can take it...”

The increasing alarm of the Sergeant at his side hardly reached into the space between them “Sir- this woman is not the felon…pursuing our enquiries you said… finding Jamie McGuire...Sir...!”  But as Boyne’s hand tightened on the black baton, his eyes seeing nothing but male and centuries of opposition swirling round in high noon dust streets and his head full of the smell of horses and blood and hatred, another more insistent voice physically intervened

“What is going on here? Megan are you alright?” A thick body followed his voice to widen the gap as Megan struggled to speak, deep gulps of air instead of words that let Inspector Boyne answer first

“Back off sonny this is police business! We are after Jamie McGuire and she is assisting me in my enquiries, aren’t you? Another ‘friend’ of his are you?” with a sharp turn of his head Boyne took in the face of what might then be another one, like fucking rabbits they were.

It had been a long time since anyone had called him sonny, and Tom Lloyd stepped closer to Megan with determination and some considerable force, an authority to his voice that seemed to bring them back to the 21^st century “I don’t see that it is relevant who my friends are, but Ms Nolan here does happen to be one, so perhaps you could tell me why your hand is on your truncheon, what exact threat she is to you Inspector?”

Inspector Boyne glanced at the gathering at the back door, and at the silent pleas of his Sergeant. He watched his time slip away and the ripples in the air straightening out, and with barely concealed frustration he leant forward with a last word “I will remind you that harbouring known criminals is an offence that we take extremely seriously Miss”. Turning on his Blakeys with a last bark that said he would be back Boyne marched down the alley with a Constable scampering at his side.

His arms relaxing now Tom held Megan to his chest before he lifted her chin, a frown of concern creasing his brow “What the fuck is going on Megan? What the hell were you playing at? ‘Yes officer…of course I will let you know if I see him...’ that was the answer! Not the gunfight at the OK Corral with me turning up as the bloody Lone Ranger! I tell you what I am going to swing for that Jamie McGuire myself when I see him”

Megan flinched at a deep shiver of that before she took a breath “He is in deep shit Tom. The coppers have, they must have, planted drugs in his flat. That Boyne is mad as a hatter- could you not feel it?”

“What I saw was a loose canon that’s for sure! But actually make that two. Did you not learn anything in all those years? Those bastards never let up, you have to make your way around and under and over, not head to head. They are the ones that have the truncheons and the guns! Jesus Christ Megan!”

Megan sighed and took him in, smile on her lips for all his protection, but deciding to leave a discussion about the force of the state for another time maybe, for now she was just glad to have him here “well your timing was good even if your star badge is a little dented Tom. what did you come here for anyway?”

He had almost forgotten “Well since you don’t have a phone, nor an address and I don’t own any pigeons I hadn’t a choice really. I dropped by to say that Heath Ledger said “yes” to an interview…he appeared to be under the impression that you had a regular column in one of the Qualities. Maybe he misunderstood me…”

It took a few seconds before she knew what the hell he was on about “Oh my God Tom you are a wonder! Heath Ledger! Where? When do I meet him?”

“His agent will be in touch. But really” Tom shook his head and stepped back into the Cup o’Chinos “You need to keep out of this with the coppers, something is wrong here Megan. If that Inspector has something against Jamie, then what he needs is a bloody good lawyer not you locked up too, and I don’t need to remind you how it will look work wise.”

“I can’t just abandon him Tom, it is just complicated. Look I will tell you over a drink sometime yeah? For the moment I can handle it”

She might not have been so sure had she seen Danny at that moment, on the floor of their flat, surrounded by ashtrays and half empty bottles, his eyes hardly opening to a morning he didn’t want to see. What are yer doing Aaron? Circling his consciousness in spirals of confused questioning demands. “Nothing more than you deserve yer shit” his voice a croak, but the familiar pang clenched his stomach all the same as he stood up and staggered through the hall. ‘Sold his mate to the coppers he did’ he could hear them now whispering behinds hands in the bars of Beechworth, his whole world blurred while shaky hands felt in the kitchen cupboards for anything to ease the throbbing ache. It had seemed so simple a year or two ago. We only care about Ned, Aaron. Fuck it, if those coppers wanted information they could have it, he was sick of covering Joe Byrne’s back, while he went gallivanting off round the countryside with his new found mate playing the hero. What did he get for lying around in caves for months making sure the coast was clear? For all those tales he spun the idjut coppers about the plans. Nothing he got nothing apart from tongue whipping from old ma Byrne and her daughter, a few pieces of silver and the Quinn’s and the Lloyds screaming for his blood- that’s all. Oh and the sight of Joseph Byrne in his new long coat turning up to see Maggie, or Sarah, or Helen or Kate or Brenna, those lasses were all doe eyed now eh? A real outlaw creeping up in the dark to see them whenever he liked, thanks to good old Aaron keeping the coppers occupied! He had some fucking gall, alright so the money came in handy but Joe needed taking down a peg or two, needed reminding who his real friends were! Join the gang…why on god’s frigging earth would he want to do that? The coppers would shoot them now for sure. The Wonderful Ned Kelly and the Fabulous Joe Byrne- Fuck them! He’d show them. Paracetamol and whiskey and swirling anger took him back out on to the street.

*

Somewhere in a secret location, least he had no idea really where he was apart from in bed, Orlando felt his phone jump against the muscle of his chest. Alright so it wasn't much company, but at least he could play some games while he lay there. “Hello?” He’d learnt to be cautious, well you never knew huh? Some nutter got hold of your cell phone number and it would be all over the internet in seconds, Google probably explode or something. Had only tried ‘googling’ himself once, even thinking that made him giggle a bit in the dark, sounded vaguely rude, yeah. He’d only looked for a minute, until his eyes started to swim at the array of sites and boards and pictures and fan fictions, well the last one didn’t even bear thinking about did it? Never be able to look Sean Bean, Viggo or Karl in the face again without blushing, though perhaps looking at their faces would be best in the circumstances. Orlando shifted his hips under the thin Egyptian cotton sheet, Jesus, it was hot here. Definitely didn’t need the pyjamas he had packed, packed being a loose term evident in the delight apparently some of the press found in his dishevelled appearance. 

“Orlando? Are you there?” the voice sounded very far away, almost apologetic and vaguely familiar. Shit he had forgotten the phone

“Yeah, yeah I am- who is this?”

“Megan Nolan. Oh look you don't know my second name anyhow, I met you the other day in a bar" Ok so that sounded bad and he heard her curse under her breath "Listen I am sorry if this is a bad time..”

Orlando squinted his eyes at the un-regulation knights watch on his arm, whose fluorescent numbers ranged in a confusing array of circles and dials, none of which seemed like a good stab at the actual time. Giving up with a sigh, he looked at the crack of night sky through the blind, then at the lack of anyone in his bed. Megan…Megan, ah yeah her- chrome bar- pirates- police- got it. Cute, she had been cute and laughed at his jokes, that was always a good sign “Nope, it’s not a bad time, whatever the fuck it is. You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping anyhow. You wouldn’t believe how hot it is here in the desert, was just thinking about a cold shower”

 The slight pause on the other end of the phone had him say a silent 'oh', of course she would have no idea where he was “I am in Morocco- sort of initial foray into the filming of something called Kingdom of Heaven, Ridley Scott’s latest” he liked the sound of that, all sounded rather professional and established, although on second thoughts he wasn’t quite so sure that was what made her take a breath “but you didn’t ring to check up on my career I don’t suppose”

“No, Orlando I am sorry to call you like this, it is just...” Alright so she was sounding worried now, not like those people who worked their way round to asking for an autograph for a neighbour, sister, friend, naturally, and didn’t want to come across sounding stupid, something else “It is Jamie” of course.

“Not arrested again I hope!”

“No it’s worse than that- he is on bail after that last time, and well the coppers are after him, raided his flat for drugs and say they found cocaine!” Orlando felt himself press the receiver closer to his ear, lest a drop of the conversation might somehow leak out into the air to be sensed, smelt or snorted by someone else.

“What?? Megan, come on…”

“He doesn’t do that I swear to you, ok so a little dope but not that stuff now. There is a copper, an Inspector Boyne, he came round today, shouting and threatening and scaring me and all, and he is after Jamie, I don’t know why” Ok so that was part of a lie and Megan took a deep breath to plunge further “well maybe I do. Listen if you got a minute or two and an open mind I need to tell you about something of the present, past, and future.” She could almost hear him holding his breath on the other end of the phone “he needs a lawyer, the sort of lawyer neither of us has the money to pay for. I can’t believe I am asking you this, I hardly know you nor vice versa, but I saw what Jamie did to you, I know you can feel him, can feel Joe Byrne, you said as much yourself in those interviews. Orlando do you believe in reincarnation?”

*

It was well into the morning in the B&B when Emmy and Jamie finally looked up from the enormous plates of full Irish breakfast. Shaded from the outside bustle of Dublin by lace curtains made for twitching, they just grinned at each other as Mrs Murphy slid yet another couple of rashers onto his plate. Normally breakfast stopped at 9.15 sharp but she seemed to think he needed feeding up, refusing to take 'no' as a possible answer, and instead placing another round of toast on the crocheted doily in the centre of the small table amoungst the bottles of sauce and glass jar of marmalade. Emmy took a swig of dark brown tea and smiled, it was the sort of place that time stood still in, the smell of overcooked greens and pledge polish mixed with mothballs and dusty old pot pourri, perceived as an exotic gift no doubt from a wayward nephew. “Ah no Mrs Murphy I am sure I couldn’t manage another one, though they are the best I ever tasted, only don’t tell Seamus in case it gets back to my mother.”

A solicitous grin from the landlady and she was off again regaling them of places to go and see in Dublin, about her cousin’s lad who worked the Red Tour Buses and would see to it that they got half price tickets, and where to get some lunch, though Emmy wasn’t sure she would ever be able to eat ‘til sometime next week. Sitting back in her chair she watched him following the woman’s every cadence, his nods and smiles the punctuation to the flood of speech, while under the table his fingers sought hers. She closed her eyes and just squeezed back, the soft of her thighs still sticky she could feel a buzz that called her back to that room, maybe it was this part, here and now, that was the dream. Maybe that was it. They had hardly slept; him unwilling to let her slip away for more than a few minutes it seemed, talking and crying and loving each other until their bodies couldn’t move anymore, and yet the home of Oscar Wilde, the Book of Kells, a pock marked Post office all struggled to compete with more of him.

“Kilmainham Gaol? Now why in the name of all the Saints would you want to go that dismal place?” Emmy could sort of hear the conversation in the blur outside of herself, clearly Mrs Murphy thought the darker side of Dublin’s history was best avoided and for once Emmy found herself agreeing.

The virtual tour faded out as she gave herself up to the thoughts that wouldn’t stop knocking. Suppose she had been Joe Byrne’s lover? Suppose all that was true, and here she was back with him in different skin eating white bread toast and marmalade a thousand miles from the outback? Say all of that was true, a grand leap of fate granted, and one likely to get her prescribed some serious anti psychotic drugs at worst, and a moment of embarrassing fame on some day time talk show discussing Soul Mates at best, actually scrub that, she would go for the drugs. But say it was true, and the sheer weight of memory that had bubbled into her physical being shouted it was, what the hell was she supposed to do now? Apart from drag him back up to that room that was?

She was Emmy, definitely ex customer services attendant at the Odeon, Kilburn. She had family, friends, a place to call home of sorts and a whirl of living she had kind of fallen into. Ok so she had moved around a lot, always the next job, the next flat, and the next lover, all of them taking up her considerable enthusiasm for a while before she ended up back where she started. That was the curious thing. Her mum, her friends, they all said the same- that she had it all- education, good looking men mostly, opportunities, jobs worth hanging onto for the benefits or the pension scheme. No doubt if she had put her mind to it she could have already found herself in one of those nice new builds with off street parking on some bulldozed 60’s slum, a shiny car and a shinier man, a foreign holiday once a year and a job that had prospects. But she hadn’t. Instead she decorated her metaphorical caravan with colours and shells and ribbons and memories and moved right along, a gypsy in her own life.

His voice made her jump “What are yer thinking lass?” She opened her mouth to speak but found herself mute as he brushed the cotton nylon mix up her leg an inch, his fingers finding bare skin. I think you know Joe. Fuck but it felt good, him holding the reins in those hands of his

It was a long climb back up to the third floor with stomachs that full, on stairs that seemed to narrow as you went up, but they were barely inside the door before his mouth was breathless on hers, clarty with too strong tea and sweet with jam, her head in his hands and the artexed swirls of 70’s plaster against her back “So shall we go throw pennies and wishes into the Liffey, drink Guinness all day and salute the souls of the past then?” though the last part was less of a question since her hand was sliding heavy down his cock.

“Jamie McGuire! You weren't sitting there talking to Mrs Murphy all proper” the outlines of his body tantalising hard under soft brown cotton “and all the while like this..” The press of him into her hand had them both moan and she tilted her head back to feel his mouth dragging down her neck, anxious fingers pulling apart the all too simple poppers.

“What can I say Emmy? This uniform is growing on me!” From his jacket on the other side of the room, perfectly folded over the chair, the vibrating buzz of his mobile phone said ‘you have a new message’ but his hands were already too full of skin and their pleasure to pay it any mind.