Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

The following morning Laura is on the balcony, her hands cupped around a mug of tea. She’s making whistling sounds.

‘What’s she doing?’ Solomon asks, fresh out of the shower and joining Bo in the kitchen. He kisses her. He makes it his business to kiss her, no hiding it any more. Last night, he and Bo had decided that it was best he step back from Laura for the time being, try to allow Bo and Laura to bond. He has to work anyway, filming Grotesque Bodies , which requires he travel to Switzerland tomorrow for a few days to film an operation on a man they had been following for a year. And while he and Bo had decided it was healthier for Laura’s sake and the sake of the documentary that he disappear for a while, Solomon knows it’s also better for himself. He’s losing himself, he doesn’t like what he’s becoming, somebody who thinks about another woman when he’s in bed with his own girlfriend. It’s not him. Not who he wants to be. He needs to withdraw from the situation.

‘She’s talking to the bird next door,’ Bo replies. ‘Want scrambled eggs and bacon?’ she asks, placing a plate down in front of him. ‘Laura made them. She keeps asking for things I’ve never heard of. Herbs and things.’

‘You should bring her to the supermarket,’ he says, trying not to look at Laura. ‘She’d like that.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, uncertain of how she’s going to manage the next four days with Laura on her own. She’d almost change her mind about Solomon’s closeness to Laura if it meant he stayed.

Laura chirps on the balcony.

‘What bird next door?’ Solomon asks suddenly, digging in, enjoying the quality of cooking in their home since Laura has arrived.

‘The kid next door has a bird in a cage, a budgie or something. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard it.’

‘What kid?’ he asks.

She laughs and hits him playfully with a tea towel. Then she joins him with an espresso and a grapefruit and keeps her voice low.

‘Do you want to sit with me while I brief her about the audition?’

‘We talked about this last night,’ he says, concentrating on his scrambled eggs, ‘It’s time for you to get to know her better. She needs to start trusting you too.’ Laura made his breakfast, they’re the tastiest scrambled eggs he’s ever eaten. He practically licks the plate. He needs to get out of this apartment fast.

‘Yes, I know, but you really are better at handling her.’

He looks up at her, sees her nervousness. ‘You’ll be fine. Don’t think of it as “briefing” her. Talk to her as you would a friend.’

‘Probably too early for a bottle of wine at eight a.m.,’ she jokes, but her uncertainty is obvious.

He looks at Laura properly for the first time since he sat down. It had taken her a few days after the incident in Galway at the shooting range to come out of her shell again. They’d had fun, he’d enjoyed showing her new things, he’d enjoyed watching her, listening to her, hearing everyday sounds that he had long stopped hearing. The hiss of a bus as it pulled in at a stop, the whistle of the postman, the shutters being lifted on a shop beneath them, the rattle of the keys, a motorbike, the ring of a bicycle bell, high heels against the ground. Her sounds were endless and they flowed from her effortlessly, without her even noticing. Bo’s fears about Laura’s sounds disappearing over the weekend were in vain; if anything, they are more frequent. He’d had fun with Laura. He’d laughed more with her in a few days than he can remember having done in a long time. But then he kept catching himself feeling like that and he’d close up. Laura was right to question his character last night, what was he doing, who was he? One moment he was open with her, the next moment he’d shut down, hot and cold. For Laura’s good, for him and Bo, he’d have to stay away.

Through the open sliding door, Laura’s chirping drifts into the apartment.

‘She’s not talking to the bird, by the way,’ Solomon says, washing the plates in the sink.

‘Hmm?’

‘You said she was talking to the bird.’

‘Yeah. She is.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Sounds like a full-blown convo to me.’

‘No.’ He laughs, but he feels the familiar agitation rising, or maybe it’s heartburn, a burning in the centre of his chest. Is it that which causes him to pick at Bo, or is it Bo that causes the burning? He’s not sure, but he knows the two are closely related.

‘The bird thinks they’re having a chat,’ she says easily, picking up her phone to check her emails again.

‘Well I don’t know what the bird thinks. I only understand humans.’ And not so heavily disguised in that statement is the accusation that she doesn’t understand humans.

‘Fine, Solomon, she’s not having a conversation with the bird.’ Bo laughs. ‘You tell me what’s going on. You seem to have so much more understanding of her than I do.’

She’s not being sarcastic, or cynical, there’s no judgement in her tone.

‘Okay, we’re going to have a “conversation” like the one they’re having now. Right now. Starting now.’

‘You want me to whistle?’ she giggles.

‘You want me to whistle?’ he repeats and giggles too, as much like her as he can.

She laughs.

He imitates her.

‘Maybe I should chirp.’

‘Maybe I should chirp.’

Her smile starts to fade. ‘Okay, Sol, I get the idea.’

‘Okay, Sol, I get the idea.’

‘She’s not having a conversation with the bird.’

‘She’s not having a conversation with the bird.’

‘She’s mimicking the bird.’

‘She’s mimicking the bird.’

She stops talking altogether.

Outside on the balcony, though neither of them can see her, Laura smiles into her mug of tea.

Solomon stares at Bo, waiting for her to speak again, feeling like a child deliberately annoying his brothers.

‘My girlfriend Bo,’ she begins slowly, thoughtfully, ‘Is the hottest producer in the world.’

He repeats it, moving his chair closer to hers, drawing her closer, eyeball to eyeball. ‘With the hottest tits.’

She laughs. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Happy, fun. Them at their best. And then Bo ruins it.

‘I’m going to marry my girlfriend, Bo.’

He pauses. Stares at her, pulls away a little from her face to see her properly, to get the whole picture, to see if she’s joking. Her smile is gone, as is his. The tension between them is heavy. Why did she have to say that? Ruin what was a good moment, make it so intense?

‘Is that what you want?’ he asks.

She studies his face, it’s obviously not what he wants, he couldn’t even say it, not even as part of a dumb game. It’s actually not something she wanted. It wasn’t theobjective of this relationship. It had been once, with Jack, but she was younger and liked a project, and that man was a project. The ironic thing is she probably could have walked down the aisle quicker with Jack than she ever could with Solomon. It’s upsetting, not because she especially wanted it, but because it’s clear that he doesn’t. She’s not sure if being with someone who doesn’t want to marry her is an insult even if it’s not what she wants. Double standards. She has a few more of them.

She can hear Solomon’s argument without him saying a word, merely looking at her in a panic, skin shiny as though he’s broken out in a nervous sweat. She can hear his argument loud and clear; in fact, she is using it against herself, but she’d said the sentence for him to repeat nonetheless, to test him, which was unfair really.