Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

She looks at Jack and he’s grinning. He winks. He looks exhausted as Harriet from make-up powders his face. He looks how Laura feels.

Laura stands in the centre of the enormous stage, the dancers getting in place, the cameras in position while Laura’s VT plays.

‘ The last week has changed my life completely. I went from a very quiet life in Cork to suddenly everyone knowing my name .’ Footage of her walking down Grafton Street, then a crowd chasing her. It’s all sped up, as though it’s an old Laurel and Hardy film. Posed, of course. Filmed yesterday – or was it this morning? And then they air the words she was unsure of saying. She had wished to phrase them differently and they had kindly allowed her to, but then they wanted one take to be said and done their way, for them to have. Naturally, that’s the take they use, each sentence sharply edited, her face zoomed in on closer for each one and made more dramatic by a booming drum to emphasise the stakes.

‘I don’t want to go back to being who I was.’ Boom.

‘This is my one chance to shine.’ Boom.

‘The whole world is watching me.’ Boom.

‘I’ll fight for my place in the final.’ Boom.

‘Watch out world.’ Boom.

‘The Lyrebird is coming.’ Boom.

Laura cringes at the sound of her own voice. It sounds as empty as she had felt while saying it. She doesn’t even like that girl. She doesn’t like the girl they’re trying to portray. Doesn’t like the girls like her that are sitting at home, thinking about the one time in their lives that they will have to prove themselves. No such thing exists. Nothing so great ever hinges on one such moment.

Suddenly the music starts, she feels the beat in her chest, the lights go up, the crowd cheer. It’s showtime.

She starts walking. She’s on a treadmill, behind her on the large screen is footage of the woods. It’s animated. And it moves so that she appears to be walking through the forest. Her long blonde hair is tied into two braids that sit on each shoulder tied with two girlish red ribbons. She’s wearing a puffy-shouldered mini dress, a blue-and-white gingham apron and she holds a straw basket. She’s not sure if she’s supposed to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz or little Red Riding Hood. She didn’t care much when they’d shown her the costume after she’d gotten off her flight from Australia.

She wears white pop socks and red Mary-Jane heels.

The music playing is ‘If You Go Down to the Woods Today’, but a kind of remixed dance version. She makes the sound of her high heels on the ground and the audience laughs. Realistically, she’d told Gloria and anyone who’d listen that her heels would not make such a sound on the earth floor, but they’d explained it was a heightened reality. Laura comes across a house in the woods, it’s made from sweets. She eats some, licks some, making appropriate sounds and the crowd laugh. She makes a knocking sound on the door, the door opens and three sexy female pigs run out, chased by a male wolf. Laura peeks inside, she sees a handsome bear man – a topless male dancer. She tries out the three different men until she finds the one that’s just right. She moves across the stage, making appropriate sound effects that she was told to make, slapstick comedy, ducking and diving in Laurel and Hardy mime, making sounds in all the right places. It is quite the production; wardrobe must have hired out every panto costume going.

After a dance routine where Laura awkwardly tries to keep up with the three sexy pigs, the three hunky bears and the others who are dressed as sexy woodland creatures, Laura ends up with the hunkiest bear of them all. He’s just right. A red heart-shaped spotlight frames them.

StarrQuest special guest judge, drafted in for the semi-finals, star of stage and screen with her own stage school, Lisa Logan is on her feet clapping, hoping she’ll make it to the viral clip which will boost her flagging career. Laura steps on the thumb mark in the centre of the stage and waits for the judges’ feedback.

‘Lyrebird, hi,’ Lisa says excitedly. ‘Out of all the contestants tonight, I, like the rest of the world, was most excited to see what you’d deliver. I must admit, despite your obvious talent, I was confused as to how that would transfer into showbusiness – how can you make sounds viable? Relevant? How can sounds be commercial? But you’ve shown us tonight that it can be done. This is exactly the kind of cabaret/Vegas-style route that you should go down. You’re young, you’re sexy, you’re talented. You have ended this show on a high. Whooo!’ she screams, punching the air. The audience join in.

Lisa Logan gives Lyrebird a gold thumbs up.

Laura is surprised by her excitable reaction. They really see her doing this as a career? Does she even want to do this?

Silence for Jack’s response.

‘Lyrebird,’ he rubs his stubble awkwardly, as if struggling with how to say it. ‘That was awful.’

Boos from the crowd.

‘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.’

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.