Lyrebird

‘You go ahead, Sol, I’ll be out in a minute,’ Bo says, placing her folder in her bag, slowly.

Solomon leaves, and closes the door behind him.

Dark disapproving boyfriend gone.

Bo looks up at Laura and the girl looks so forlorn, as though she’s about to start crying.

‘What’s wrong?’ Bo asks, surprised.

‘Nothing, I … nothing,’ she says, a little breathlessly. She stands up and moves across the room, to her kitchenette. She pours herself a cup of water and drinks it down in one.

She’s a peculiar girl. Bo wants to know everything about her. She wants to see the world from her eyes, walk in her shoes, she needs Laura to say yes. She cannot lose her. Bo knows that she is passionate about her work, that it borders on obsessed, but that’s what it takes for her to fully understand her subject. She has to absorb herself in his or her life, she wants to do that. Bo was searching for something new after The Toolin Twins, and here it is, the natural birth of a new story has quite literally emerged from the first story. It’s perfect, it’s right, it has potential to be even better than The Toolin Twins. It’s Bo’s job to make other people see what she sees, to feel what she feels. She must make Laura see that.

‘Laura,’ she says gently. ‘I respect your decision not to take part, but I want to make sure you are seeing the whole picture. I want to help you think this through. This week has obviously been a big week for you, a time of huge change in your life, with the passing of your dad.’

Laura looks down, her long eyelashes brush her cheekbones. Bo notes the reaction when she refers to Tom as her dad, to Joe as her uncle, she needs to be careful when using it. They’re not terms Laura is comfortable with and she wants to know why. Why, why, why! It seems that this girl is built entirely on secrets; created on one, born on one, reared on one, exists on one. Bo wants to break the chain.

‘It’s a new beginning for you. Your life is moving on. There is uncertainty as to whether Joe will allow you to live here, and if he does, uncertainty as to whether he will assist you in living the life you have been living for the past ten years. I don’t know if Joe will take on Tom’s role of acting as an intermediary with Bridget for you, getting your provisions, and paying for them, because I assume Tom covered the costs?’

She nods.

‘If Joe doesn’t, how will you get to the shops with no car? Do you have money? Can you pay for food? Tom, as helpful as he was to you, really did leave you in a very vulnerable situation.’ She leads into the next sentence gently. ‘There isn’t a mention of you in Tom’s will. He has left his share to Joe. Perhaps he intended on discussing your presence here with Joe, but he never did.’

She leaves that to sink in with Laura, who has now reached out to grip the back of the chair tightly. Her eyes dart around the room, deep in thought, everything that has been her world possibly dissolving right in front of her.

‘If you take part in this documentary, we can help you. The three of us will be here, we can bring you whatever you need. We can even help you get set up somewhere else if that’s what you want. Whatever you want, we can help you. You’re not alone. You’ll have me, Rachel and of course … you’ll have Solomon, who I can tell is so fond of you,’ Bo adds, with a smile.

7

‘She’s in!’ Bo sings, from the trail, making her way to where Solomon and Rachel are waiting by the car.

‘What?’ Rachel says, looking at Solomon. ‘He just said she’s out.’

‘Well it’s happening now!’ Bo raises her hand in the air for a high-five. They both stare at her.

‘Ah, come on, don’t leave me hanging.’

Rachel high-fives her, with a surprised laugh. ‘You are unbelievable. You truly are a piece of work.’

Bo raises her eyebrows, enjoying the praise, hand still in the air and waiting for Solomon.

He folds his arms. ‘I’m not high-fiving anything until you tell me how you changed her mind.’

Bo drops her hand and rolls her eyes. ‘Would you ask another producer that question? Or just me? Because I would like to have the same respect from you as you would give to somebody else, don’t you think that’s fair?’

‘If I was in the room with a producer who got a clear no, and then I left, and he got a yes, then yes, I would ask him.’

‘Why is the producer immediately a him?’ Bo asks.

‘Or her. Who gives a fuck? What did you do to make her say yes?’

‘Okay guys, before you both go off on one, can we first get some of the logistics straight?’ Rachel grabs their attention. ‘I really have to get home to Susie – we have an anatomy scan on Friday, I will not miss it,’ she says, fully serious. ‘I need to know what’s happening. Is there a plan?’

Bo looks at both of them, her eyes wide in shock. ‘Guys,’ she says, exasperated. ‘Can we quit the moaning for a second and embrace, truly acknowledge the fact that we have the subject of a new documentary confirmed? Can we not ruin the moment right now with a thousand questions, and celebrate?’ She looks at both of them. ‘We’re ready to go again. Whoo! Come on!’ She tries to jazz them up until they eventually cave in and celebrate with her, in a group hug, Rachel and Solomon momentarily hiding their reservations.

‘Congratulations, you relentless little shit,’ Solomon says, kissing her.

She laughs. ‘Thank you! Finally, the recognition I deserve.’

‘So …’ Rachel says.

‘I know, I know, Susie,’ Bo says, thinking it through. ‘Of course you need to get back to her. My feeling is that all the signs are pointing to filming now,’ Bo says. ‘The weather, for a start. We’ve been here in winter, it’s murky, it’s complicated. Rachel, you slipped on your ass more times than I care to remember and, while it was hilariously funny, it was dangerous – as you pointed out.’

Solomon chuckles.

‘And while I want to film what it’s like for Laura living here in all seasons, because I think that’s important, I want to get the principal stuff done now. I want to show people how we found her. Sleeping Beauty in her hidden cottage in the forest. I want the colour, I want light, I want these sounds,’ she says, seeing it all. ‘It’s a summer vibe. Thirdly, if we leave it too long, there’s a chance Laura will change her mind. I want her immediate thoughts, wishes, dreams, not something she’s figured out a few months down the road. Her life has changed now – bam! We need to follow her now, when she’s right on the cusp. And finally, I don’t know how long Joe is going to allow her to live here. If we leave he may just kick her out of the cottage, if we’re here he might be more likely to allow her to stay.

‘So, bearing that all in mind, we go home today, gather ourselves, I’ll prepare the paperwork, Rachel, you gather the equipment, and we’ll return Sunday evening. We begin filming here on Monday for a two-week shoot, tops.’

They all agree.

‘Rachel, I know that Susie’s due date is three weeks away, if for whatever reason you have to leave …’ Bo says, starting to think of replacement camera people she’s worked with. ‘I could call Andy and see if—’

‘Andy’s a dickhead, his filming is deeply inferior to mine. Don’t replace me with Andy. It would be an insult. Don’t replace me with anyone,’ Rachel says firmly. ‘This is a story,’ Rachel says, pointing up the mountain to the cottage. ‘I want to work on this.’

At Rachel’s show of support, Solomon feels goosebumps rise on his skin. He’s never heard her so enthusiastic, nor has he felt this way about a project before. They are all eager to begin, hankering to dive into discovering Laura’s story. Buzzing with excitement Bo returns to the cottage to discuss the filming schedule with Laura. However, she emerges moments later with less energy.

‘She’s changed her mind,’ Solomon guesses, feeling his stomach drop.

‘Not quite. She’s panicking. She’s doing the noise thing. She wants you, Sol. Again.’

Solomon closes the door to the cottage. Laura is standing, pacing the small area between her bed, the kitchenette and the living area.

‘Hi,’ he says.

She mimics a sound and he doesn’t know what it is until he closes the door and it is exactly the sound she has just made. The latch closing. Her sounds may be things she desires to happen. Solomon adds this observation to his list of studies.

‘I thought it would be starting tomorrow,’ she says, nervously twisting her fingers.

‘The documentary?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, I’m sorry. It can’t happen instantly. We have to go home, and prepare for the shoot but there’s no need to worry, we’ll be back on Monday for two weeks.’

‘When are you leaving?’ she asks, pacing the room.

‘Today,’ he says. ‘Laura, what’s wrong?’

‘If you go, I’ll be here alone.’

She starts to make noises, agitated. Bird sounds, distressed.

‘It’s only five days. You’re always here alone.’

‘Joe doesn’t want me here.’

‘We don’t know that Joe doesn’t want you here,’ Solomon says. ‘He’s in shock, it will take him a bit of time.’

‘But what if he comes over here, when you’re gone, and wants me to leave? What if the garda comes back? What will I do? Where will I go? I don’t know anyone. I don’t have anyone.’

‘You can call me, if that happens. Here,’ he roots around in his pockets for a pen and paper. ‘I’ll give you my number.’

‘How will I call you? I don’t have a phone.’

He stalls, the pen hovering over the page.

‘Please stay. I’d like to film tomorrow,’ she says, swallowing nervously. ‘If this is going to happen, it has to happen tomorrow,’ she says, trying to toughen up.

‘We can’t film tomorrow, Laura,’ he says gently. ‘Look, it’s okay. Please calm down. I have to get to my mam’s this weekend. She’s seventy. She lives in Galway, I can’t miss it. Rachel, the one with the camera, her wife is pregnant, she has to get home to her, and Bo, she’s the director, producer, she’s got a lot of work to do for next week, planning, paperwork, a lecture, that kind of thing. We need more equipment, there’s paperwork to be done, permission to be granted, there’s no way we could start tomorrow.’

‘Can I go with you?’ she asks.

He stares at her in shock, unable to think of how to reply. ‘You want to …’

‘Can I stay with you? I can’t stay here any more. It’s all been changed. I have to … change with the changes.’

She’s panicking, her mind working overtime.

‘Relax, Laura, it’s okay, everything’s okay, nothing’s changed.’ He goes to her, holds her by her arms, gently, tries to get her to look at him. His heart is pounding; just feeling her is sending him into a spin. She looks at him and those grassy eyes probe into him, into his very soul.

‘My dad’s dead.’ She looks at him, eyes piercing. ‘My dad is dead. And I never even called him dad. I never even knew if he knew that I was his daughter. We never even …’ The tears spill down her cheeks.

‘Oh, come here,’ he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him so that her head is against his chest and she is completely enveloped in his love and care.

‘How can a place be a home if no one wants you there?’ she asks through her tears. ‘This is not a home.’

He can’t answer that.

He’s the only person she knows. He can’t leave her here.

‘What. The. Fuck,’ Bo says, sitting up, as Solomon walks towards her and Rachel with bags in his hands, closely followed by Laura.

‘She’s coming with us,’ he says, avoiding Bo’s stare, as he puts the bags in the boot of the car.

‘What?’ Bo joins him.

‘She’s scared here. She doesn’t want to wait on her own until we get back. I wonder who scared the shit out of her, Bo,’ he says through his teeth at her, the veins pulsating in his neck. He’s really angry.

‘But – you have to go to your parents’ house.’

‘Yes, and I’ll have to take her with me. She won’t go with you to Dublin,’ he mutters, trying to slot her shopping bags and suitcase into the boot among their recording equipment.

He waits for Bo to tell him no way, this is ridiculous, she is not allowing her boyfriend to travel with a young, beautiful strange woman to his family party, but instead when he looks up, she’s grinning broadly.

‘Laura,’ she calls, holding two thumbs up. ‘This is the best news. The best.’

8

‘Snow White!’ Bo announces, slamming her beer bottle down on the table in the hotel bar, more loudly than she’d intended.

Rachel laughs. Solomon shakes his head and reaches for the bowl of peanuts.

‘Seriously, she’s like a real-life Snow White,’ she says excitedly. ‘I could definitely pitch that. Lives in the forest, sings to the fucking animals.’

Solomon and Rachel can’t help but laugh at that, and at Bo’s intensity. Bo’s tipsy, her eyes are shining, her cheeks are rosy as they discuss plans for the documentary. Instead of going home, Bo managed to talk Rachel into staying for two more days. They’ll stay at the hotel in Gougane Barra for two nights, film during the day at the cottage, go their separate ways for the weekend, return to Cork on Sunday night. She can’t help herself and her excitement is contagious, both Solomon and Rachel find it impossible to say no. Laura is upstairs in her bedroom, a connecting room to theirs, which they’d filmed her entering. Bo had filmed everything. Laura’s first baby-steps into the big bad world, not that there had been anything dramatic to capture. Laura hadn’t been raised by wolves, she knew how to handle herself. Everything remained inside of her, contained. Rachel captured Laura sitting in the car, for the first time in ten years, the cottage disappearing in the background behind the bat house. Laura didn’t look back, though she mimicked the engine starting up. When Laura left the Toolin property her face never changed. She quietly, slowly absorbed everything around her; it was calming to watch, as hypnotic as watching a newborn baby. And while everything seemed locked inside of her, her sounds seeped out and revealed a little about her.

‘I feel like we have a child,’ Bo had joked to Solomon, about the connecting room, before shuddering.

‘If Laura is Snow White, who is the evil witch who locked her up?’ Rachel asks.

‘Her grandmother,’ Solomon replies, his tongue feeling loose. Considering he’d been falling asleep all day, he’s wide awake now. ‘But not evil. If anything, well-intentioned.’

‘All evil people think they’re well-intentioned in some shape or form,’ Bo says. ‘Manson thought his murders would precipitate the apocalyptic race war … What about Rapunzel?’

‘What about Mowgli?’ Rachel jokes.

Bo ignores her. ‘Trapped in a cottage, on the top of a mountain, cut off from the world. And she has long blonde hair and is beautiful,’ she adds. ‘Not that it should make a difference, but it does and we all know it.’ She points a finger in both Solomon and Rachel’s faces to prevent them from objecting, not that they were going to.

‘I don’t know why you’re going for Disney movies,’ Rachel says. ‘Is it a commercial thing?’

‘Because this feels fairytale-like. Laura has that ethereal feel, other-worldly, don’t you think?’

Of course Solomon agrees, he’s felt that all along and perhaps he was wrong, foolish even, to think that he was the only one who was affected by Laura.

‘She talks to animals and birds,’ Bo offers. ‘That’s quite Disney.’

‘De Niro talked to the mirror,’ Rachel suggests. ‘Shirley Valentine to the wall.’

‘Not quite the same thing,’ Bo smiles.

‘She doesn’t talk to them, she imitates them,’ Solomon explains. ‘There’s a difference.’

‘The imitator. The imitatress.’

‘Gendered titles, from a feminist such as yourself. You should be ashamed,’ Rachel teases, signalling the barman for another round.

‘Echoes of Laura.’

‘Perfect,’ Rachel says. ‘For True Movies.’

‘She mimics,’ Solomon says, thinking aloud. ‘She repeats things that she hasn’t heard before, a few times, until she gets it right. Maybe it’s to understand them. She makes distressed sounds when she feels endangered, like the barking, growling, car alarm sounds when we first met her. She associates those sounds with danger or defence.’

They’re both hanging on to his analysis.

‘Interesting,’ Rachel nods along. ‘I hadn’t realised there was a language to it.’

‘Hadn’t you?’ Solomon asks. It had seemed clear to him. The sounds were all different. Sympathetic when whimpering with Mossie, defensive, on the attack when she was surrounded. Mimicking Solomon’s throat-clearing when she recognises when he’s uncomfortable or generally an uncomfortable situation. The sounds make sense to him. Entirely peculiar, but there seems to be a pattern to them.

‘Laura’s Language,’ Bo says, continuing her search for a title.

‘So she’s a mimic,’ Rachel says. ‘Laura the Mimic.’

‘That’s deep,’ Bo laughs.

‘She doesn’t mimic actions or movements. Just sounds,’ Solomon says.

They both think about it.

‘I mean she’s not on all fours, growling like a dog, or running around the room and flapping her arms like a bird. She repeats sounds.’

‘Good point.’

‘Our friend the anthropologist,’ Rachel says, raising her new pint towards him.

‘Anthropologist, now that’s a good idea,’ Bo says, reaching for her pen and paper. ‘We need to speak to one of them about her.’

‘There’s a bird somewhere, that imitates sounds,’ Solomon says, not listening to the two of them. ‘I saw it on a nature programme a while ago.’ He thinks hard, mind foggy from the jet lag and now alcohol.

‘A parrot?’ Rachel offers.

Bo giggles.

‘No.’

‘A budgie.’

‘No, it imitates all sounds. Humans, machines, other birds, I saw it on a documentary.’

‘Hmm,’ Bo reaches for her phone. ‘Bird that imitates sounds.’

She searches for a moment. Suddenly her phone starts playing loudly and as the customers turn to her again, she quickly apologises and lowers the volume.

‘Sorry. This is it.’

They huddle around to watch a two-minute clip of David Attenborough and a bird that mimics the sounds of other birds, a chainsaw, a mobile phone, the shutter of a camera.

‘That’s exactly like Laura,’ Rachel says, prodding the screen with her greasy salty peanut finger.

‘It’s called a lyrebird,’ Bo says, deep in thought. ‘Laura the Lyrebird.’

‘The Lyrebird,’ Rachel says.

‘No,’ Solomon shakes his head. ‘Just Lyrebird.’

‘Love it,’ Bo grins. ‘That’s it. Congratulations, Solomon, your first title!’

Elated, they call it a night at midnight and return to their bedrooms.

‘I thought you were tired,’ Bo smiles as Solomon nuzzles into her neck, as she opens the door with a keycard. She misses a few times, her aim off. ‘You’re like a vampire, coming alive at night,’ she giggles.

He nibbles at her neck, which reminds him of a bat, which reminds him of the bat house, which reminds him of Laura, who is in the room next door, which knocks him off course, which makes him loosen his grip on Bo. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice as she finally gets the key in the door and pushes it open.

‘I wonder if she’s awake,’ Bo whispers.

Laura close to his mind, Solomon pulls Bo close to him, kisses her.

‘Wait,’ Bo whispers. ‘Let me listen.’

She pulls away and moves to the connecting door to Laura’s room. She pushes her ear to the door and while she listens, Solomon starts undressing her.

‘Sol,’ she laughs. ‘I’m trying to do research!’

He pulls her underwear from her foot and throws it over his shoulder. He starts at her ankle and kisses his way up her leg, licking the inside of her thigh.

‘Never mind,’ Bo gives up on her research and turns her back to the door.

In bed, Bo lets out moans of delight.

Solomon pulls her down to him, to kiss her, and as their lips lock, he hears the sounds of pleasure again. Bo’s sounds. But they’re not coming from Bo, they’re coming from the connecting door. They both freeze.

Bo looks at Solomon. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispers.

Solomon looks at the connecting door. The light from the bathroom is illuminating the otherwise dark room. Though the door on their side is still closed, Laura must have opened her own connecting door and is listening at their door.

‘Oh my God,’ Bo repeats, getting off Solomon and pulling the bedclothes around her protectively.

‘She can’t see you,’ he says.

‘Sssh.’

Solomon’s heart pounds, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. Even if Laura can’t see them, he’s sure she can hear them.

‘I don’t care, that’s sick.’

‘It’s not sick.’

‘For fuck sake, Solomon,’ she hisses, disgusted with him.

They listen out but there’s no further sound.

‘What are you doing?’ she hisses, watching him get out of bed.

He goes to the connecting door and pushes his ear to the cold wood. He imagines Laura right on the other side, doing the same thing. Her first night away from her cottage, perhaps they were wrong to leave her alone for a few hours. He hopes she’s okay.

‘Well?’ she asks, as he gets back into bed.

‘Nothing.’

‘What if she’s nuts, Sol?’ she whispers.

‘She’s not nuts.’

‘Like crazy psycho-killer nuts.’

‘She’s not.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t … it was your idea to bring her here.’

‘That’s helpful.’

He sighs. ‘Can’t we at least finish?’

‘No. That’s freaked me right out.’

Solomon sighs, rests his arms behind his head and stares, feeling wide awake, at the ceiling. Bo lies on top of him, her leg across his body, so he can’t even finish himself off, while she sleeps. Fully awake now, and unsatisfied.

He throws the covers off and moves so that Bo will get off him.

‘If you’re going to wank in the toilet, you better be quiet or the Lyrebird will be repeating your every sound for the next two weeks on camera,’ Bo warns, sleepily.

He rolls his eyes and gets back into bed, the mood completely killed.

At some stage he falls asleep listening to the sound of Laura listening to him.

9

Solomon wakes in the morning to an empty bed. The connecting door is open a fraction. He sits up and gets his bearings. He hears Bo’s voice drifting out to him. Gentle but organisational.

‘Joe has agreed that we can have access to the cottage for today so that we can film you there. We can see you go about your day, what you do, how you live, that kind of thing. And then I’ll ask you a few questions about how you see the future, what you’d like to do with your life. So maybe think about those kinds of things.’

Silence.

‘Do you have these answers now?’

Silence.

Solomon gets out of bed and pads naked across the room to the door. He peeks through the crack in the door and sees them, Laura sitting on the bed, the back of Bo’s head.

‘Okay, that’s okay, you don’t have to answer my questions now. But you do understand what we’re planning?’

‘I understand.’

‘We’ll film today and tomorrow, break for the weekend, and then return on Monday. Is that okay with you?’

‘I’m going to be with Solomon in Galway at the weekend.’

‘Yes.’

Awkward silence.

‘Last night, Laura …’

Silence.

Solomon closes his eyes and cringes, wishing Bo would just let it go. It was the first night in ten years that Laura had slept in a different bed, a different room. Everything was different. Bo’s sounds had been new for Laura, mimicking them was her way of understanding, that was all. He wishes Bo could get that and leave it.