Lyrebird

  Laura nods.

  ‘My head is bursting with ideas right now for the semi-finals. Curt, remind me to tell you about them later at the meeting,’ he says, buzzing, chewing gum excitedly.

  ‘Sure, Jack.’ Curtis nods, never lifting his gaze from his shoes, which are navy blue suede with orange soles.

  Jack talks for a moment about the staging, technical jargon about lights and screens and staging, so fast, so many words per minute, and Curtis nods along as though catching all of it. No problem, Jack, no problem.

  Then Jack addresses Laura again. ‘Let’s make this the best damn show together, yeah?’

  He stops talking abruptly and looks around at everyone as if trying to find the source of the sound. His eyes land on Laura.

  She’s mimicking the sound of his gum-chewing. Curtis looks up and frowns, thinking she’s being disrespectful to the star of the show.

  ‘No, Curtis, she, um … don’t worry … she is … it happens. Spontaneously. It’s not, she’s not being … we can talk about it later,’ Bo says awkwardly. ‘We filmed with an anthropologist yesterday who explained what Laura does really well. If I could remember how he phrased it … Actually, Solomon explains it much better.’

  Laura coughs ‘liar’, mimicking Solomon, then his hearty laugh.

  Jack and Curtis stare at her.

  ‘If this is spontaneous, then can you plan an act for the show?’ Jack asks finally.

  ‘Good question.’ Curtis rubs his chin, staring at her intensely as though his stare will force a confession from her, as though she’s an imposter who will now be revealed.

  Laura makes the sound of Solomon scratching his chin, while she watches him. He pauses and eventually drops his hands briefly, not knowing what to do with them, before placing them on the counter again.

  ‘Did you plan what you did tonight?’ Jack asks.

  ‘No,’ Laura says quietly, sitting upright, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in where her tiny dress isn’t rising up her arse. She’s still not really sure what she did tonight.

  ‘Huh.’ He looks at Curtis, smacking his gum. Jack’s expression is unreadable, but of course Curtis seems to understand it.

  Then Curtis’ phone buzzes. He reads a message and his face changes in obvious shock, probably the first genuine look he’s had since he entered the room. ‘Jesus.’ He looks at Jack.

  ‘What?’

  ‘One hundred thousand views on YouTube already, of Lyrebird.’

  ‘What?’ Jack jumps off the counter and grabs his phone. Scrolls down. ‘It’s been, what, thirty or forty minutes since we got off air?’

  Curtis nods. Really nods. An engaged nod.

  Jack taps away at his phone for a moment, then looks at Laura.

  ‘Curt and I have a few things to discuss now but, Lyrebird, make sure they take good care of you, here, yeah? Tell me if you’ve any problems?’

  Laura nods.

  ‘Keep me in the loop,’ Bo says, standing and going for her phone immediately, her shock and excitement obvious.

  ‘As ever, Bo Peep.’ He blows her a kiss and leaves with Curt.

  Bo rolls her eyes but she grins. She takes a moment to compose herself and sits down beside Laura. ‘So …’ Instantly, she’s back to feeling how she’s felt with Laura all day: unsure of what to do or say, completely uncomfortable and unable to fill the time or form sentences. It’s not necessary, of course, for her and Laura to become best friends, she’d rather learn about her subjects when the camera is on, not off, and perhaps that’s what makes her anxious and unsettled around Laura. Like a chain-smoker who doesn’t know what to do with their hands without a cigarette, or a musician who feels naked on stage without their guitar, Bo wonders if she has lost the ability to connect with people when the camera is off, then wonders if she ever had that ability.

  Another aspect of Laura that Bo is uncomfortable with, apart from her making the sound of every dead animal on the butcher counter, is Laura’s watchful gaze. Bo hates the feeling of being observed and Laura seems to drink everything in, every single little thing. If Bo sighs, Laura can imitate it. She feels under the spotlight, claustrophobic. She is normally the observer, when with Laura she feels instead like the observed and she hates it, it causes her to look at herself too much.

  Laura looks at her now, seeing deep into her soul. She should tell her about the YouTube hits, she should talk to her about where they go from here, formulate a plan, but those green eyes make her feel so uncomfortable. They saw Jack blow her a kiss, they looked at Bo questioningly. They saw Bo grinning, Bo pleased by his attention. They seem to see everything she doesn’t want her to see, and nothing that she wants her to see.

  ‘Why don’t you go to wardrobe and get changed?’ Bo says, instead.

  22

  Solomon, Bo and Laura are restless that night after her StarrQuest performance. It’s as though they’re all on a high following the reaction. Solomon and Bo sit at computers and at their phones reading out messages on social media about Laura’s act. Laura curls up on the couch drinking one herbal tea after another, completely overwhelmed by the feedback from these strangers. By midnight there have been two hundred thousand views of Lyrebird’s performance and she leads the entertainment news online with the same simple headline on each: LYREBIRD.

  Overnight the story grows and grows, gathers speed and gains momentum. Solomon left for his flight to Switzerland before Laura had woken which sends her into a disorientated spin. The internet hits keep growing. Tucked up in the apartment with Bo, Laura watches from her quiet room as her world appears to change without anything happening to her at all.

  In the days that follow, occasionally Laura suggests to Bo that they go out, but Bo is keen to keep her out of the public eye, becomes like a paranoid minder when they’re in the open, looking over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at couples raising their phones for photos, or scowls at people sending texts because she thinks they’re taking photographs. She’s uptight, and Laura’s not sure who Bo’s protecting: her documentary or Laura. A few times a day Bo turns on the camera and tries to gain insight into how Laura is feeling about everything, but Laura hasn’t experienced this new, changed life of hers – how could she when she’s been stuck in the apartment day after day. All she knows of her supposedly changed life is what Bo reads to her – the messages on social media, the articles in the newspaper. It’s all just other people’s words.

  They go for walks along the River Liffey where it’s quiet, and on the third night Bo concedes more than accepts Laura’s invitation to see the musical in the theatre across the road from the apartment, the one that Laura has been watching people spilling out of with beaming smiles since she arrived. But when Laura unknowingly makes sounds during the show, which leads to a heated discussion between a member of security and Bo, Bo quickly ushers Laura out before the interval.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Laura says, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders as the evening breeze hits her. They return to the apartment, Laura feeling like a scolded child.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Bo says, the stress in her voice saying otherwise. ‘Do you want to get some sushi?’ she asks, looking at the restaurant near their apartment. Laura would love some, but she can tell from Bo’s tone that she’s had enough for the evening.

  ‘No, it’s okay.’ Laura’s stomach rumbles. Or maybe it’s not her stomach that makes the sound. ‘I’ll get an early night.’ Again. She’s sure that Bo will take her laptop into her bedroom for the evening. She spends all of her time in there since Solomon has been away, as though she can’t stand being alone with Laura.

  Bo looks relieved.

  Once inside the apartment, Bo does exactly as Laura expected.

  ‘Good night,’ Bo says, and closes her bedroom door softly.

  Laura goes out onto the balcony and watches the world going by.

  Five days after Laura’s audition, Lyrebird’s online viewings have reached one hundred million. The media can’t get enough of
her. They are hungry for more information about this mysterious person who has caught the world’s interest. The tabloid headlines scream GONE VIRAL BIRD.

  Bo’s self-imposed captivity in the apartment ends when StarrGaze Entertainment steps in. They set up base for Laura at the Slaughter House, and for two straight days she does short interviews with the media who have flocked to speak with her, with fans who film her and give her messages, gifts, words of support.

  Can she describe herself in five words?

  Does she have a boyfriend?

  Would she like to have children?

  What does she think about the gender pay gap?

  If she could be a food, what type of food would she be?

  What’s her favourite film?

  What are the top ten songs on her playlist?

  Twitter or Instagram?

  If she were stranded on a desert island, what would be the one book she would bring?

  What inspires her?

  What are her favourite sounds?

  Who are her favourite impersonators?

  What are her views on the American presidential race?

  Does she have any advice for young women?

  What’s the best advice anyone has ever given her?

  What is the one question she’s never been asked but would like to be asked?

  While Laura is holed up for two days in the press office of the Slaughter House, with Bianca by her side, Bo and Jack begin to argue.

  She hears them while sitting on the toilet lid between interviews, with her eyes closed and her legs tucked close to her body, anything to escape Bianca’s constant tapping on her phone. She hears the buttons in her head, they roll together, getting faster and faster, like a ticking time bomb.

  ‘Hello?’ Somebody knocks on her door, and she realises she’s been making the sound. She quietens.

  ‘Jack,’ Bo says suddenly, loud and angry, which makes Laura’s eyes fly open. Bo’s voice drifts through the bathroom vent.

  ‘Bo,’ he says playfully, ‘Good of you to visit me. As if your emails weren’t enough over the past two days, it’s nice to be abused in person.’

  ‘Jack, keeping Lyrebird here for the past two days is one thing, but your crew cannot take her to Cork.’

  A door slams. There’s a pause.

  ‘Of course we can. We need stock footage for the press and the show. It’s the best way, unless you want Lyrebird going to Cork with every single member of the press who asks for an interview? No, I didn’t think so. This is the best way of handling it.’

  ‘But I already have that footage. It’s exclusive to my documentary. In fact, for the past two days I have not even been able to proceed with that documentary because you’ve had full media control of Lyrebird.’

  ‘That’s because she’s part of the show, Bo!’ he says, exasperated. ‘This isn’t a trick. She signed a contract that said she would take part in promotional duties. You knew that, you read it.’

  ‘It didn’t say that I couldn’t be involved,’ she fumes.

  ‘Come on, babe, you’re the only person we’ve allowed filming access to Laura. You’re getting all the behind-the-scenes stuff that everybody is begging for. Curt is already breaking my balls for allowing that – how much more do you want from me?’

  ‘I am not your babe. Curt is not the director of StarrGaze Entertainment, you are. So grow a pair of fucking balls.’

  There’s a silence.

  ‘Fucking balls. Hmm. I think I have them already, and I think you know that.’

  Laura hears a light laugh from Bo and she smiles at their interaction.

  When Bo speaks again she has mellowed. ‘Jack, my documentary was never supposed to be a fly-on-the-wall documentary, not a reality show or a behind-the-scenes reveal. It will not be some StarrQuest spin-off. It’s an in-depth look at her life. From the inside, not the outside, and if you won’t let me talk to her, then I can’t gauge how she’s feeling.’

  ‘You live with her,’ he laughs. ‘You can’t gauge it from that?’

  The toilet flushes beside Laura and she’s annoyed she misses Bo’s answer.

  ‘I’ll talk to Curt,’ he says, ‘if you go to dinner with me. This would be favourable to me seeing as the giving up smoking for your attention is really hard work.’

  ‘Jack,’ Bo laughs, ‘you’re impossible. I have a boyfriend, remember?’

  ‘Ah yes, the long-haired Prince Charming with the bad temper. But isn’t he away right now?’

  ‘Jack … please … What I’m trying to say is that I make feature film documentaries. You are compromising my art – you of all people should understand that. How often have you had to fight for what you wanted in your music? I brought Laura to you. I need to be more present. You can’t cut me out of this.’

  The hand-drier blocks out the rest of what Bo is saying and then Bianca bangs on the bathroom door, giving Laura the fright of her life. Her next interview is waiting. It’s a game called Come and Have a Go If You Think You’re Hard Enough for the StarrQuest spin-off show, Execution or Freedom. Apparently it involves the contestants smashing a half-dozen hard-boiled eggs against their foreheads. The loser will be the person who discovers they drew the uncooked egg … as it smashes and dribbles down their face.

  Laura loses.

  Laura won’t appear in the semi-final until the following week. There is one more live audition show this weekend and then the following Monday will mark the start of a week of nightly semi-finals, where one of five acts who perform each night will go through to the final. The live audition show that followed Laura’s drew twice as many viewers, thanks to Lyrebird’s worldwide publicity, the viewing figures overtook the Nine O’Clock News, traditionally the most-viewed TV show on the network. However, the demand for Laura to remain in the public eye is clear, from both the media and from StarrQuest, who recognise that interest in Lyrebird means increasing viewing figures for the show. The crowd of fans gathering outside the studios grows daily; they camp out, hoping for a glimpse of Lyrebird. News stations and other media report on both Lyrebird and the public’s growing obsession with Lyrebird, which grows because of the media’s obsession. Each feeds the other. Requests pour in from the US, UK, Europe and Australia on a daily basis for an interview with Lyrebird, or an appearance of some sort. An offer comes from Japan for Lyrebird to promote a new soft drink. After lengthy negotiations, headed by Curtis, they collapse due to a fee disagreement.

  There are also requests for Lyrebird to do private events, corporate events, charity events. Agents and agencies are vying to represent her, PR agencies want to help promote her. Lyrebird needs an agent, and she has one: in accordance with the contract Jack had her sign, she falls under the StarrGaze Entertainment agency, meaning Bo has unwittingly relinquished control of her subject.

  Bo phones Solomon, who’s still away filming Grotesque Bodies, and complains, ‘I’m afraid all these ridiculous Lyrebird interviews will cheapen the documentary. I’m used to spending years on a project before displaying it to the world, taking my time, editing, researching, shaping it. But this is moving so fast. I was the one to find Lyrebird, I was the one to hear her personal story first, and I’m afraid it’s going to get out before I get to tell the story. And please don’t say I told you so, that’s not what I need to hear right now.’

  ‘Well then I’ve got nothing else to say,’ he says, fuming.

  She sighs, annoyed. Solomon’s negativity is not helping, she delayed sharing her reservations with him until now for that very reason, but now she needs help, she needs somebody to talk it through with.

  It’s only been a week since the initial audition and Lyrebird frenzy is already at fever pitch. But how long will that last? By the time Bo’s documentary is ready, Lyrebird could be old news. Worst-case scenario: there could be a Lyrebird hangover, in which case nobody would want to touch the story. Bo’s afraid that, despite the fact she found Lyrebird first, she’ll be last when it comes to telling the story. She hates that it feels lik
e a race; she has never worked this way.

  Bo feels the claws reaching in from all around, trying to tear off a piece of Lyrebird. And if this is how Bo’s feeling, what must Lyrebird be feeling? She can’t even begin to imagine. And since when has she been calling her Lyrebird?

  As Bo fills Solomon in on what has been happening since he left, his anger grows. ‘How is Laura?’ he asks.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Bo says. ‘She’s busy. I barely see her.’

  ‘Does she know that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to?’

  ‘But she does, Sol – she signed a contract.’ She keeps her voice low so that Laura doesn’t hear her next door.

  He goes silent for a moment. ‘Is she happy, Bo?’

  ‘How the fuck would I know?’ she says, tiredly. ‘She keeps everything to herself.’

  ‘Her sounds,’ he says, trying to keep calm. If he were there, he would automatically know. ‘At night, what are her sounds like?’

  ‘I haven’t noticed. I’ve been so tired, I suppose I’m so used to them now, I’ve stopped hearing them.’

  She manages to talk Solomon out of coming home. He can’t simply walk out – they’d never hire him again. Besides, things have not reached crisis point here. She also tells him that she’s sure Laura has an infatuation with him and it’s best he stays away. This is not a lie.

  Bo knows that nobody has even seen the best of Laura yet, there is so much more she has to give. She only hopes Laura can figure out how to harness it, and condense it all into a two-minute piece for live TV. It will work in Bo’s favour if Laura performs well in the semi-final. If she can’t work one-on-one with Laura, then the show can. She reaches for her phone to text Jack about some ideas for Laura’s next performance.

  As she settles down to sleep, her neighbour’s new puppy starts to howl.

  And like last night, Laura’s soft gentle sad howls join in. Bo lied to Solomon about Laura’s sounds; she couldn’t have told him that. Anyway, wasn’t it Solomon who’d told her that these sounds were merely mimicry, and not a conversation?