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By Root 912 0

ground and his sense of self by making disdainful noises about the trash being made in Hollywood. ‘The stage has always been my first love,’ he insisted in the Guardian. That was the Camden Guardian, the only paper interested in the fact that he was making a home in London. (And then only because he lived next door to their office.) ‘No, really, it has.’ Lorcan’s confidence had been badly dented in Hollywood, but he got an agent and began going to auditions in London. However, the world of acting is incredibly sensitive and can spot the merest whiff of loserism at a thousand paces. Astonishingly good-looking, almost threateningly sexy, there was nevertheless the faintest aura of the has-been about Lorcan. Some unkind people went even further and identified it as the scent of the never-was.

No one wants to be associated with that. It might be catching. So while the casting girls were perfectly happy to sleep with Lorcan, they weren’t so keen on giving him a part in their production. Pride kept him going. That, and the fact that he was equipped for nothing else. He had no choice but to pick himself up after every knockback and try again.

So far, during the two years he’d been in London, he’d auditioned for Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth and Othello. After ten months of rejection, he finally got a part. In The Bill. Imaginatively cast as an IRA bomb-maker, and the only line he got to say was, ‘Jaysus, dey’re on to us. Run, Mickey!’

Much to his disappointment this tour de force didn’t open any further doors and beneath his smart-arse, arrogant exterior, he was in torment. He hated not being the most admired, the most sought-after, the most in-demand. Yet all wasn’t lost – he might have been without the roles or the money or the kudos but there was no doubt that he still got the girls. It was the only area of his life that still worked, a microcosm of how he wished everything else to be.

With women, Lorcan could wield his beloved power with a free hand. Of course it wasn’t much of a challenge making girlies cry but it was better than nothing. It was safe and he’d always be the winner. As the months passed without another part, it became very difficult to make ends meet. In fact, ends were barely on nodding terms with each other. Bitterly, resentfully, he got a job as a waiter. He, the great Lorcan Larkin, reduced to dishing up spaghetti carbonara to peasants. How are the mighty fallen. Luckily he was sacked within the week for having an attitude problem. (The manager just couldn’t get Lorcan to understand that if someone asked for a second cup of coffee, the correct response was ‘Certainly, sir, coming right up,’ and not ‘What did your last slave die of? Get it yourself.’)

He had no choice but to look for an alternative form of income.

He could have gone the gigolo route. There were enough rich older women in London who would keep Lorcan in a style to which he could quickly become accustomed. While he, in return, would provide sexual services. But he just couldn’t stomach it.

He had no objection to sleeping with them, but only on his terms. However, six months ago came a week where three good things happened for him. First, he got a job doing voice-overs for the Irish tourist board, which wasn’t exactly ‘smell-of-the-greasepaint-roar-of-the-crowd’ territory but it put beer in the fridge. The following day, he managed to get a housing-association flat in Chalk Farm – his own place. (Benjy was heartbroken.)

And then he met Amy.

He and Benjy were at a party when they first saw her.

Benjy took one look at her long, willowy limbs, her pure, radiant face, her tendrils of red-blonde hair, and thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. ‘Look,’ he gasped, and elbowed Lorcan.

‘I thought you were a tit-man.’ Lorcan sounded unimpressed.

‘Not really. I’m an anything-man,’ Benjy said mournfully. ‘An anything-I-can-get man.’

‘Well, may the force be with you. And remember what I’ve told you. Act shy. Be bashful.’

‘I can’t possibly go and speak to her.’ Benjy was horrified.

‘Why not? You fancy her.’

‘That’s exactly why.