Page 23 of Lyrebird

‘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.