Page 84 of Lyrebird

‘No, seriously it was.’ Over their booing and hissing he continues: ‘It was awkward. It was … to be honest, it was embarrassing, I was cringing for you. You looked uncomfortable. You’re not a dancer …’

‘No, she can’t dance,’ Lisa interrupts, agreeing. ‘But that was part of the comedy. It was funny.’

‘I don’t think she intended to be funny, did you, Lyrebird?’

They both look at her. Silence.

‘I wanted it to be entertaining and hope the people in here and at home were entertained,’ she says with a smile.

The crowd cheer.

‘No, Lyrebird. I think your strength is in what we saw you doing in your audition. Organic, earthy performances. Moving performances, where you transport the audience somewhere else. This was all wrong. This was a circus.’

Boos.

‘As you know, only one act can go through to the final. Every night this week until the final. Have you been good enough tonight? My advice, if you go through, is to stick to the heartfelt pieces. Lyrebird, you’re in trouble. I hope the public give you another chance because I fear for your place in the final.’

27

Laura sits before Jack’s desk after the show. She got through to the final. She did it. But she didn’t feel the joy that she should be feeling. Jack looks exhausted, even worse without the make-up that he’s removing with a baby wipe.

‘How am I still awake?’ he says into his hands, rubbing furiously. He smudges his mascara. Laura can’t bring herself to tell him.

‘How are you holding up?’ Jack asks her. ‘Probably doing a lot better than me, you’re twenty years younger.’

‘I’m exhausted,’ she says.

He must hear the change of tone in her voice because he looks at her, drops the tissue.

‘This is tough, isn’t it?’

She nods, feeling drained.

‘Yeah, believe me, I’ve been there. In your shoes. I was probably the same age as you when my album went to number one in fifty countries. Crazy.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know—’

Curtis enters the room, and Jack sits up straighter. Curtis places a coffee down on the desk before Jack, then goes to his usual position at the side, like a shadow.

‘Thanks, man.’ Jack takes a sip and gets into business mode, giving her feedback as he has done for all the contestants seeking reassurance. Before and after the show, they gather around Jack at every opportunity eager for his attention and praise, and over the past two days out of sheer exhaustion Laura has stood back and watched, feeling as if they’re all birds loitering at an outdoor restaurant feeding on scraps of food and leftovers. They watch and wait, ready to be thrown anything by Jack their way; a compliment, a word of advice, a tip or a thinly veiled warning or critique. They catch it and they peck, peck, peck, analysing it, clinging to it, wanting to be filled by him, but they never are. They can never be fed enough praise, analysis, or dissection of themselves and their talent from the master.

‘Look, Lyrebird, don’t worry about tonight, it’s part of the show. Everyone has their ups and downs. It’s good for you to have a journey, to show that you, like them, have a struggle. But the audience chose to save you. Look at poor Rose and Tony, their act was a disaster. She fell on her face, dressed as a hotdog.’ He starts laughing, a smoker’s chesty laugh. ‘Did you see the ketchup …?’ He stops laughing when she doesn’t join in.

‘Tonight’s performance was written for me by your show while I was in Australia,’ Laura says to him, confused. ‘I was told to learn it on the flight. I had one day to learn the dance.’

He sighs. ‘Rehearsal time was short, I understand, but believe me, the Australian trip was the chance of a lifetime. We debated it, but felt it was the best thing to do, and we needed you on the first semi-final show on the back of the Cory Cooke Show and before public interest waned. That trip was the trip of a lifetime, and any of the others would have chosen going there over a longer rehearsal.’

‘The others won’t even look at me.’

‘They’re jealous. Lyrebird, you’re going to win this show and everyone knows it.’

Her mouth drops open. ‘Jack, you said I was awkward. You said it was awful. You said I can’t dance. You were embarrassed for me – cringing, in fact …’

‘That was true,’ he laughs. ‘It was fucking awful.’ He laughs alone. ‘Oh, come on. Lighten up.’

‘I didn’t want to do that routine. I told you I wasn’t a dancer. I told you it wasn’t me. We sat right here, I told you I didn’t like the script. You told me to do it.’

‘Lyrebird.’

‘My name is Laura!’ She bangs her hand down on the table.