Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

‘Wow,’ Laura says. She walks down the rails, her hand running along the fabric.

‘I’m Caroline. I’ll be styling you,’ she says looking Laura up and down, scrutinising her body. ‘This is Claire.’

Claire doesn’t smile and doesn’t speak. Claire is an assistant who has probably learned not to open her mouth unless asked to.

Laura grins. ‘Mum and Gaga would love this. They were dressmakers.’

Caroline doesn’t seem overly impressed. She has ten people to style, in a room with no windows, and very little time to do it in, and a frustrating production team who keep changing their mind and expecting her to be able to pick up the pieces. But Laura moves at a different pace to everybody that’s come through the door and into Caroline’s world. She closes her eyes and suddenly the room is filled with the sound of a sewing machine. It is rhythmic and soothing, like the constant chugging of a train, a sound you want to sway with.

Caroline’s eyes fill. ‘My goodness!’ She places a hand across her stomach and another over her heart. ‘You’ve just taken me right back. That’s a Singer.’

Laura opens her eyes and smiles. ‘Yes.’

‘My mother used one of them,’ Caroline says, her hard voice suddenly emotional, her face softening. ‘I used to sit underneath the sewing table and listen to the sound all day, watching the lace float to the floor beside me.’

‘I did too,’ Laura says. ‘I used to make clothes for my dolls from the scraps.’

‘So did I!’ Caroline says, the stress completely eliminated from her face.

Laura’s not finished yet. There are new sounds, the sound of scissors clipping at fabric, the snip snip, and the tearing and ripping sound of fabric pulling apart, then back to the sewing machine, which rises and falls, quickens and slows as it turns corners, manoeuvres the fabric.

‘Oh. My dear. My love. Let’s get you into something beautiful, you magical creature,’ Caroline says, completely swept away by what she has heard.

Fifteen minutes later, Laura steps out of the makeshift dressing room.

‘Well?’ Caroline looks at Rachel. Of course Rachel doesn’t respond, but her camera does the work. What she sees is Laura as she’s never seen her before, and Laura as she has never been before. Laura looks at their faces, uncertain, but with a shy smile. She likes it, she hopes others do.

Claire sets about accessorising Laura.

‘Wait until hair and make-up get their hands on you. You’ll be hot stuff,’ Caroline says. ‘I’m not sure about the shoes, though,’ she adds. ‘Your legs are shaking, you poor love.’

Laura seems relieved to take off the platforms.

‘Gladiator flats,’ Caroline says finally. ‘You have that vibe. Greek, angelic, goddess. Tall enough to pull them off too.’

By the time Laura’s hair and make-up are complete, the team have created this goddess in a very short white slip, midway up her long toned thighs. If she lifts her arms it travels up past her underwear. Her long blonde hair is tied in a tight knot on the top of her head, gold metallic gladiator flats snake their way up to her knees, and around her bicep is a gold clasp with an emerald stone. Her green eyes gleam.

Everybody is silenced as she stands there before them.

‘That will get you Jack’s thumbs up for sure,’ the make-up artist says.

‘It will get more than his thumbs up,’ Caroline says, and they all laugh before realising the camera is recording, then they quickly hush and disperse.

Solomon is waiting at the stage with Bo. He catches up with his former colleagues while he waits for Laura to arrive for the sound check and dress rehearsal. Laura enters the stage set with Bianca and is guided up the steps to the centre of the stage. Laura, unaware of all the hungry eyes on her, looks around as though she’s landed on a new planet. The lighting, the empty audience seats surrounding the stage, the enormous screen above her head that will display her thumbs up or thumbs down. The gilded throne where Jack will sit and judge her.

Solomon has his back to the stage while in discussion with crew he hasn’t seen since his fight with Jack, but he senses the change of air in the room. It may sound stupid, but he knows that she has walked in. He sees everyone look up, stop what they’re doing, he sees the looks in their eyes, the change in their expression. His friend Ted stops midway through his story, completely distracted by what’s on the stage.

‘Whoa.’

Solomon’s heart started beating faster the second he felt the change in the room. He clears his throat and readies himself. He turns.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ Ted says. ‘That’s the Lyrebird?’

‘She wins,’ Jason says in a sing-song voice as he passes the two men. Ted laughs.

Solomon clears his throat again awkwardly. He doesn’t know where to look. If he lays his eyes on her again everyone will know, absolutely everyone will know how he feels. He can’t cope with looking at her, he can’t control himself, the sudden tremble he feels, the awkwardness, the downright unsophisticated urge to take her, and have her all to himself, do all the things most men in the room are fantasising about right now.

Bo watches him, he feels her eyes on him, and he turns away from the stage, busying himself with his audio equipment.

‘What do you think?’ she asks.

‘About…’

‘Laura.’

He looks up again as if he’d barely noticed her the first time. ‘Yeah. She looks different.’

‘Different?’ she studies him. ‘She’s unrecognisable, Solomon. I mean, she’s fucking incredible. Even I want to sleep with her, but you know…’

Solomon looks at her in surprise. ‘What?’

‘It’s not what I was expecting…’ Bo studies Laura again, analyses her.

‘Yeah,’ Solomon agrees. It’s not what he was expecting either. Not at all.

While Laura is surrounded by suddenly over-helpful crew members, and Bo is busy again, he takes his time to really study her now. He can see Laura’s nerves. She looks over at him, a question on her face. She’s seeking comfort, confidence, encouragement, and yet he can’t do anything. If he goes near her, everybody will know. She will know, Bo will know. He can’t allow himself to take one step closer to her right now, under these lights and cameras, for everyone to see. He keeps his distance, he glances at her from afar, from the corner of his eye, grabbing stolen moments.

The floor manager takes her attention away and Rachel documents it all. Solomon jumps into action and hurries over, headphones on, the boom mic in his hand, trying to avoid Laura’s gaze.

‘Lyrebird, I’m Tommy.’ The manager reaches out his hand and she shakes it. ‘You’re very welcome. I know this is nerve-racking, every single person on the show tonight is feeling exactly the same way. But there’s no need, we’re a nice bunch. I’m from Cork too. Us Corkonians stick together.’

She smiles and he and she have a little chat as he succeeds in calming her nerves.

‘Your king and executioner sits up there on the throne. When you’re performing, this is your main camera. That’s Dave behind it.’

Dave waves comically and she laughs.

‘This is your place to stand. Do you think you’ll be moving around?’

Laura looks at Solomon for guidance, he quickly looks down at his audio bag, plays with the tuning.

‘Well, we’ll have a run-through and we’ll see for ourselves,’ Tommy says good-naturedly. No panic. Not yet. A few hours till they go live. ‘That’s what we’re here for.’

He explains timing issues with her, where she stands for the ruling, where she walks to when she’s finished. Finally, it’s time for the run-through. Solomon, Bo and Rachel leave the stage, as does everybody else, while the lights and music dramatically leap into action. Laura looks around, jumping slightly at the dramatic music. The ten-second countdown before she begins, while the stage is bathed in red, and then it is bathed in green, time for her two minutes to begin. The timer on the clock on the screen above her head counts down the seconds she has to convince King Jack Starr whether she will go through to the next round of semi-finals.