Lyrebird

by Cecelia Ahern

  Laura appears at the window but refuses to open the door.

  ‘Tell her I want Mossie,’ Joe says loudly, fidgeting, his hands in his pockets. He’s uncomfortable. It’s been an emotional day, having to bury his soulmate. A day spent out of his comfort zone, a break in his routine that has gone unchanged for over fifty years. His world has turned upside down. It’s taken its toll and he wants his dog and to get back to the safety of his farmhouse.

  ‘Please open the door, we just want to talk,’ Bo says.

  Laura stares at Solomon from the window.

  Then everyone looks at Solomon.

  ‘Tell her,’ Bo says to him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s looking at you to see if it’s okay. Tell her that we only want to talk.’

  ‘Joe wants the dog,’ Solomon says honestly, and Rachel chuckles.

  Laura disappears from the window.

  ‘Smooth,’ Rachel smirks. The two are now delirious from the lack of food.

  Joe is about to bang on the door when it opens. Mossie runs out and she closes the door again and locks it.

  Joe storms off while an excited Mossie dances around him, almost tripping him.

  ‘I’ll ring Jimmy,’ Joe grumbles as he passes. ‘He’ll sort her out.’

  ‘Wait, Joe,’ Bo calls after him.

  ‘Let it go,’ Rachel snaps. ‘I’m starving. Let’s head over to the hotel. Eat. Actual food. I need to call Susie. Then you can make a plan. I’m serious.’

  Rachel rarely loses her temper. The only time she flares up is when something is disturbing her shot – people in the background making faces, or Solomon’s mic boom appearing in the frame – but when she does lose her temper everyone knows she means it. Bo knows she’s pushed them too far.

  She gives in, for now.

  Back at Gougane Barra Hotel, Solomon and Rachel dig into their dinners, not uttering a word, while Bo thinks aloud.

  ‘Tom must have known about this girl, right? He was the one who checked that area, that was part of his responsibility, checking the well a few times a week. You can’t check the well without noticing the cottage. Or the vegetable plot, or the goat and chickens. It would be impossible. And there’s the extra items of food on the shopping list, the bookshelves and the book from Bridget. Plus, Mossie knows her, so Tom must have brought him to visit her.’

  ‘He’s a dog,’ Solomon speaks for the first time since he started eating ten minutes ago. ‘Dogs wander. He could have met her himself.’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘Met her,’ Rachel says. ‘Do dogs meet people? I guess they meet people who speak dog,’ she jokes, then stops laughing when the others don’t join in; Bo because she’s not listening, Solomon because he’s sensitive about mocking Laura. ‘Whatever. I’m going to call Susie.’ Rachel takes her plate of food with her to another table.

  ‘What is that thing she was doing? The noises?’ Bo asks Solomon. ‘Is it a Tourette’s thing? She growled and barked and chirped.’

  ‘As far as I know, people with Tourette’s don’t bark at people,’ Solomon says, licking the sticky sauce from his fingers before taking a bite of his pork ribs.

  The sauce is all over his face. Bo looks at him in disgust, not understanding his absolute inability to function without food. She stops picking at her green salad.

  ‘You have your food now, why are you still snapping at me?’

  ‘I don’t think you handled today well.’

  ‘I think you’ve been jet-lagged, moody and irritable all day,’ she says. ‘Extra sensitive – which, for you, is saying a lot.’

  ‘You scared Laura.’

  ‘I scared Laura,’ she repeats, as she always does, as if saying the words again will help her to process them. She does the same during interviews with interviewees’ responses. It can be unsettling for them, as though she doesn’t believe them, but really it’s her trying to grasp what they’ve just said.

  ‘You could tell she was frightened. You could see a young woman, surrounded by four people in a forest. Three of us dressed in black for a funeral, like we’re ninjas. She was terrified, and you were filming.’

  That set-up seems to occur to her suddenly. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yes, shit.’ He sucks his fingers again and studies her. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘What we saw today was remarkable. What that girl did—’

  ‘Laura.’

  ‘What Laura did, those sounds she made, it was like magic. And I don’t believe in magic. I’ve never heard anything like that before.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘I got excited.’

  ‘You got greedy.’

  Silence.

  He finishes his rib, watches the news on the TV in the corner.

  ‘You know everyone keeps asking me what I’ve got coming out next,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, they’re asking me too.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing. Nothing like The Toolin Twins. All these awards we’re getting – people are interested in my work now, I have to be able to follow it up.’

  He’s known she’s been feeling the pressure, and he’s glad she’s finally admitting it.

  ‘You should be happy you made one thing that people like. Some people never get that. The reason you were successful in the first place is because you took your time. You found the right story, you were patient. You listened. Today was a mess, Bo. You were rushing around like a headless chicken. People would rather see something authentic and worthy, than something that’s been thrown together.’

  ‘Is that why you’re doing Fat Fit Club and Grotesque Bodies?’

  The anger bubbles inside him as he tries to remain calm. ‘We’re talking about you, not me.’

  ‘I’m under pressure, Solomon.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘You can’t tell someone not to feel pressure.’

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘Solomon …’ She doesn’t know whether to laugh or be angry.

  ‘You lost yourself in the forest,’ he says. He hadn’t planned on saying it, it just popped out.

  She studies him. ‘Who are you talking to? Me, or yourself?’

  ‘You, obviously,’ he says, then throws the rib down, it makes a louder sound than he intended, as the bone hits the ceramic plate, and he starts a new one.

  Bo folds her arms, studying him for a moment. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t say a word.

  ‘We both saw something fascinating in the forest. I jumped into action, you … froze.’

  ‘I didn’t freeze.’

  ‘What were you doing there, all that time, while I was at the cottage? Was she there the entire time?’

  ‘Fuck off, Bo.’

  ‘Well, it’s a valid question, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. We had sex. In the two minutes I was away from you, we had sex. Up against the tree.’

  ‘That’s not what I fucking mean and you know it.’

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘I’m trying to figure her out and you’re not giving me anything. You must have had a conversation but you keep ignoring the question. She told you her name. You were alone with her before I got there, I want to know what you talked about …’

  He ignores her; the desire to yell at the top of his lungs in front of everybody is too great. He buries the anger, buries it, buries it deep, until a simmer is all that remains. It’s as much as he can manage. He looks at Sky News but doesn’t see it.

  Bo eventually leaves the table, and the room.

  He could think about what Bo said, analyse it, understand it, look within himself for the answers. He could think about what he said and why, he could think about all of it. But he’s jet-lagged, hungry and pissed off, so instead he concentrates on the news on the TV, starting to hear the words coming from the presenter’s mouth, starting to see the words that scroll by at the bottom of the screen. When he finishes his last rib, he sucks his fingers dry of the sticky sauce and leans back in his chair, feeling bloated and satisfied.

>   ‘Happy now?’ Rachel calls across the empty restaurant.

  ‘A night’s sleep and I’ll be grand.’ He yawns and stretches. ‘How’s Susie?’

  ‘A bit pissed off. Weather’s too hot. She can’t sleep. Feet and ankles are swollen up. Baby has a foot in her ribs. Think we’re going home tomorrow?’

  Solomon takes a toothpick out of its packet and picks at the meat between his front teeth. ‘Hope so.’

  He does want to go home, he knows that much is true. Because he feels spooked. Because he did lose himself in that forest. And Bo saw it happen. And just like Joe wanted to go back to his farmhouse, Solomon wants to return to Dublin, to the Grotesque Bodies show that he despises, to his apartment that constantly smells of curried fish wafting up from his neighbours. He wants normality. He wants to go where he’s used to not thinking about how he’s feeling, where no confusion or analysis is necessary, where he’s not drawn to people he knows he shouldn’t be, or to doing things he knows he shouldn’t do.

  ‘Are you asleep? Because your eyes are open,’ Rachel says, waving a rib across his eyeline, sending sauce flying on the table and floor. ‘Fuck.’

  Bo comes running into the bar, with that look on her face, and her phone in her hand.

  ‘That was Jimmy – the garda we met earlier. He’s at the Toolin farm. Joe called him to go talk to that girl, but his car hit Mossie on the way up the track. The girl took Mossie into her cottage and she’s doing that crazy voice thing. She’s locked herself in and won’t let anyone near her or let anyone look at Mossie.’

  Solomon looks at her in a ‘so what?’ kind of way. It’s all he can summon up, but inside his heart is beating wildly.

  Bo fixes him with an intriguing look. ‘She’s asking for you, Sol.’

  5

  Jimmy is standing by his patrol car, doors open, garda radio on, car directed straight towards the trees at the bat house. It’s still daylight on this summer evening.

  He lifts his arms in an apologetic way as they approach. ‘Mossie was running around the car, I didn’t see him.’

  ‘Where’s the girl now?’ Bo asks.

  ‘She grabbed the dog, carried it to the cottage, and now she won’t come out or let anyone in. She’s in a hysterical state. Joe said to call you.’

  He looks as stunned as they had been when they first witnessed Laura’s vocal outburst.

  ‘She asked for Solomon?’ Bo asks, eager to move things along.

  ‘She asked for Tom first. Kept demanding I get him, that he could tell me who she is. I told her that he was dead and she went even more doolally. Then she mentioned Solomon.’

  They were in the forest, both unable to break their gaze.

  ‘Hi,’ he said gently.

  ‘Hi,’ she said softly.

  ‘I’m Solomon.’

  She’d smiled. ‘Laura.’

  Bo is looking at him in that same uncertain way.

  ‘I told her my name before we had sex,’ he snaps. Jimmy prickles, Bo glares at him.

  ‘Are you going to get her?’ she asks.

  ‘Not if he’s going to arrest her.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to arrest her for. I need to talk to her, find out who she is and why she’s on Joe’s property. If she’s a squatter, those laws are complicated, and if Tom gave her permission, there’s not much we can do. I’m only here to put Joe’s mind at ease. And I went and hit the feckin’ dog,’ he says guiltily.

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’ Solomon asks, feeling the pressure build.

  ‘Go to the cottage and see what she wants,’ Bo says.

  ‘Okay, Jesus,’ he curses, running his fingers through his hair, retying it in a knot on the top of his head. He walks up the trail to the cottage; the other two follow him but stay close to the bat house when he goes to the cottage.

  Solomon’s heart pounds as he approaches the door and he has no idea why. He wipes his clammy hands on his jeans, and prepares to knock but before he even lifts his hand, the door opens. He can’t see her, assumes she’s behind the door and so he steps inside. As soon as he’s in, the door closes. She locks the door and stands with her back to it, as if to reinforce it.

  ‘Hi,’ he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  ‘He’s by the fire,’ Laura says, eyes barely able to settle on him. She seems nervous, worried.

  Even though she introduced herself earlier, Solomon is almost surprised to hear her speak. In the woods she had a wild girl feeling about her; here in her home she seems more real.

  Mossie is lying on his side on a sheepskin rug before the log-burning stove, his chest rising and falling with his slow breaths. His eyes are open, though he seems unaware of what’s going on around him. The fire blazes beside him, a bowl of water and a bowl of food sit untouched by his head.

  ‘He’s not eating or drinking anything,’ she says, getting on the floor beside Mossie, arms over him, protecting him.

  Solomon should be looking at the dog but he can’t take his eyes off her. She looks up at him, lost, worried, beautiful enchanting green eyes.

  ‘Is he bleeding?’ He goes to Mossie and slides beside him, opposite Laura, the closest they’ve been. ‘Hiya, boy.’ He places a hand on his fur and gently rubs.

  Mossie looks at him, the pain obvious from his eyes. He whimpers.

  Laura echoes Mossie’s whimper in an astonishing likeness that forces Solomon to study her again. ‘He’s not bleeding. I don’t know where his pain is, but he can’t stand.’

  ‘He should see a vet.’

  She looks at him. ‘Will you take him?’

  ‘Me? Sure, but we could ask Joe, seeing as he’s his dog.’ And then, at the look on her face, he adds, ‘Too.’

  ‘Joe doesn’t like me,’ she says. ‘None of them like me.’

  ‘That’s not true. Joe isn’t used to change, that’s all. Change makes some people angry.’

  ‘Change with the change,’ she says, but her voice has drastically altered. It’s lower, deeper, Northern England, someone else’s.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Gaga. My grandmother. That’s what she used to say.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Will you come with me to the vet?’ he asks. He wants her to come with him.

  ‘No. No. I stay here.’

  It is a general statement. Not, I will stay here. But I stay here. Always.

  Her clear skin is illuminated by the firelight. It’s so calm and serene in this room, despite Mossie’s struggle to survive and Laura’s quiet panic.

  She strokes Mossie’s belly, which moves up and down slowly.

  ‘When is the last time you left the mountain?’ he asks.

  She hides her face behind her hair, uncomfortable with the question.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ he asks.

  She takes a while to answer the question. ‘Since I was sixteen. Ten years ago,’ she replies, stroking Mossie.

  ‘You haven’t left since then?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I’ve had no reason to.’

  He’s staggered by this. ‘Well, you have one now. Mossie would probably prefer it if you came with him,’ he says.

  And as if in agreement Mossie breathes out, his body shuddering.

  Bo is outside with Jimmy, pacing, making awkward conversation, watching the flickering fire in the windows, the scent of chimney smoke pumping from the cottage.

  ‘Interesting Joe never noticed the smoke.’ She looks up at the plume of smoke rising from the chimney.

  Jimmy looks up, ‘I suppose farms are always burning something or other.’

  Bo nods, good point. ‘So you don’t know who this girl is?’

  ‘I’ve never seen her before,’ he shakes his head. ‘And I’d know everyone around here. In a rural town like ours with a population of a few hundred, all spread around the mountains. It’s a mystery. My wife reckons she’s a tourist, not from around here, one of those hikers who stumbled across the cottage and stayed. We get a lot of them. Over the years a few have stayed. They
fall in love with the place, or someone in the place, decide to put down roots here. She might not be here very long.’

  Bo ponders that but his wife’s conclusion does nothing to quell Bo’s curiosity, only further fuels her multiplying questions. Why would Tom lie about renting the cottage? Was it for his own financial gain? She doubted that. She filmed on this mountain three years ago and Tom never brought them here, never even mentioned it. She guesses the girl has been there at least that long or they would have filmed here. ‘Why the secret?’ she asks, confused.

  Jimmy looks thoughtful, but doesn’t reply.

  The door to the cottage opens and Solomon appears. He fills the tiny doorframe with his physique. The firelight is behind him, he is a dark large shadow. He looks like a hero, carrying a dog from a blazing fire.

  Bo smiles at the image.

  Solomon turns and speaks to the girl behind him, encourages her to come outside.

  ‘Come on, Laura, it’s okay.’ And there’s something in the way that he says that, or looks as he says that, that causes Bo’s smile to freeze.

  And then the girl appears, in a belted checked shirt-dress, with Converse and a chunky cardigan over it, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

  ‘We’re going to take Mossie to the vet,’ Solomon tells them. ‘Where do we go?’

  ‘Patrick Murphy, in the main street. Surgery will be closed now, but I’ll give him a call,’ Jimmy says, studying Laura. ‘Hello, Laura,’ he says kindly, wanting to make up for his earlier approach.

  Laura stares down at her Converses. She looks terrified. She reaches out and holds on to Solomon’s arm. She grips him so tightly, he can feel her body shaking.

  ‘We should go quickly, Garda.’ Solomon starts to move. ‘Mossie isn’t doing very well. I’m sure Joe would want him seen to first before anything else.’

  ‘Right so,’ Jimmy says, stepping back. ‘Laura, we can arrange to have an informal chat over the next few days. This lad can be here with you if you like.’