Wedding Night

step back.
    Yikes. I’ve obviously touched a nerve. Not that I know the details, but Ben’s manner instantly evokes a background of tense meetings in boardrooms and slammed doors and emails regretted the following day.
    “He’s your best man,” I say cautiously. “Aren’t you best friends?”
    Ben is silent for a few moments, preoccupied with some thought or other.
    “I don’t even know why Lorcan’s in my life,” he says at last. “That’s the truth. I turned round and there he was. Just
there
.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “His marriage broke up four years ago. He went up to Staffordshire to stay with my dad. Fair enough; they’d always been friendly, since we were at school together. But next thing, Lorcan’s advising my dad and getting a job in the company and running the whole bloody show. You should have seen him and my dad, striding around the place together, making plans, leaving me out completely.”
    “That sounds awful,” I say sympathetically.
    “It all came to a head two years ago.” He gulps his champagne. “I just upped and left. Went AWOL. I needed to sort myself out. It freaked them so much they contacted the police.”He spreads his hands. “I never told them where I was. After that, they behaved as though I was some sort of fragile nutcase. My dad and Lorcan were thicker than ever. Then my dad goes and
dies
.…”
    There’s a rawness to his voice which makes my skin prickle.
    “And Lorcan stayed at the company?” I venture.
    “Where else would he go? He’s got a cushy number. Nice salary, cottage on the estate—he’s sorted.”
    “Does he have kids?”
    “No.” Ben shrugs. “I suppose they never got round to it. Or weren’t into them.”
    “Well, then, why don’t you quietly get rid of him?” I’m about to suggest a legal firm I know which specializes in tactfully exiting staff, but Ben doesn’t seem to be listening.
    “Lorcan thinks he knows best about everything!” The words come shooting out in a resentful stream. “What I should do with my life. What I should do with my company. What advertising agency I should employ. What I should pay my cleaners. What grade of paper is best for which … I don’t know,
desk diary
.” He exhales. “And I don’t know the answer. So he wins.”
    “It’s not a question of winning,” I say, but I can tell Ben isn’t paying attention.
    “He once confiscated my phone in public, because he thought it ‘wasn’t appropriate.’ ” Ben is burning with resentment.
    “That sounds like harassment!” I say, shocked. “Do you have an effective HR head?”
    “Yes.” Ben sounds sulky. “But she’s leaving. She’d never say anything to Lorcan, anyway. They all love him.”
    Listening with my professional hat on, I’m aghast. This allsounds like a shambles. I want to get a piece of paper and start a five-point action plan for Ben to manage Lorcan more effectively, but that’s not exactly sexy honeymoon talk.
    “Tell me,” I say instead, my voice gentle and coaxing. “Where
did
you go when you went AWOL?”
    “You really want to know?” Ben gives me a curious, wry smile. “Not my finest moment.”
    “Tell me.”
    “I went to have lessons in comedy from Malcolm Robinson.”
    “Malcolm Robinson?” I stare at him. “For real?”
    I
love
Malcolm Robinson. He’s hilarious. He used to have this brilliant sketch show, and once I saw him live at Edinburgh.
    “I bought them anonymously at a charity auction. It was originally a weekend, but I persuaded him to extend it to a week. Cost me a fortune. At the end of the week, I asked him to tell me, straight up, if I had any talent.”
    There’s silence. I’m already cringing inside at his expression.
    “What—” I say at last, and clear my throat. “What did he—”
    “He said no.” Ben cuts me off, almost tonelessly. “He was blunt. Told me to give it up. Did me a favor, really. I haven’t cracked a joke since.”
    I wince. “That must have been devastating.”
    “It hurt my pride, yes.”
    “How long had you been …?” I trail off awkwardly. I don’t know quite how to phrase it. Luckily, Ben gets the gist.
    “Seven years.”
    “And you just gave up?”
    “Yup.”
    “And you didn’t tell anybody? Your dad? Lorcan?”
    “I thought they might notice I’d stopped doing gigs and ask why. They didn’t.” The hurt in his voice is unmistakable. “I didn’t have anyone else to … you know. Tell stuff.”
    Spontaneously, I reach for his