Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

‘Just wanted to see if you’re okay,’ he says.

Her eyes fill and she looks away.

‘Oh no, you’ve made her cry, you idiot,’ Mabel says.

Laura laughs.

‘And you made her laugh,’ Alan says to Mabel.

‘What would you do without me?’ Mabel says.

Laura wipes her eyes.

Alan sits down beside her.

‘I’m so embarrassed, Alan. I can barely bring myself to look anyone in the eye.’

‘There’s no need to be embarrassed. We’ve all had nights like that.’

Laura looks at him.

‘Well, I haven’t. But Mabel has.’

Mabel gives him a slow look.

Laura laughs again.

‘Look, we’re all in this together. Some of the others…’

‘Alice,’ coughs Mabel.

‘… see this as a competition. Us versus each other. But I don’t. I’m in competition with myself. Always have been. It’s up to me to be as good as I can be.’

‘And me,’ Mabel interrupts.

‘And you, Mabel. It’s life-changing stuff. I was recognised at the pharmacy yesterday. Buying a Ped Egg. Do you know what that is?’

She shakes her head.

‘A file for calluses and dry skin on your feet.’

‘Sexy,’ Mabel says.

‘Indeed,’ Alan agrees. ‘I signed my first autograph over a discussion about a Ped Egg.’

Laura laughs.

‘I’m not getting it anywhere near as much as you and I’m struggling. You’re a target for them. Two hundred million people want to know what you’re going to do next.’ He shrugs. ‘So blow them away.’

‘Thanks. The show’s going to give me another chance.’

Alan looks at her in surprise. ‘That’s what Curtis-’

‘Asshole,’ Mabel interrupts.

‘-was here to talk about?’

She nods.

He leans forward. He drops Mabel on the table and she actually says, ‘Ow.’

‘You do know that they’d be nothing without you. Just a crap Irish entertainment show that no one’s ever heard of, if it wasn’t for you?’

Laura is shocked to hear this.

‘You’ve put them on the map. Because of you they’ve sold the format to twelve more territories and counting. If you dropped out now, they’d be nothing.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Mabel says from the table, lying on her back staring at the ceiling.

Laura processes this.

‘What’s that?’ He looks at the brown envelope.

‘An article that’s going to be in the paper tomorrow. Curtis gave it to me to read.’

‘Don’t read it,’ Alan says.

‘I should.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t read any of them ever again,’ he says, not a hint of humour in him now. ‘Don’t poison yourself with that, Laura. You’re the purest, most natural person I’ve ever met. I want you to win.’

She smiles. ‘And I want you to win.’

They hold each other’s look, and Laura appreciates the support so much. When it gets awkward, Mabel pipes up.

‘And what the fuck about me?’

They both start laughing.

‘Right, I’ll get you a cup of tea. We might as well enjoy the silence before the next act arrives tonight. And I’ll make some lunch. I can’t cook, but ham and cheese sandwich okay?’

‘Perfect, thank you.’

‘I wouldn’t eat it, if I were you,’ Mabel whispers in her ear before they both leave. ‘I think he’s trying to poison me.’

Laura laughs as he leaves her alone in the dining room.

Feeling more confident, she stares at the envelope on the table. He’s right, she needs to rise above it and she’s feeling marginally stronger after their chat, but she still needs to know what people are thinking of her.

She slides the papers out of the envelope.

The opening page is a solicitor’s letter, from the newspaper, stating that they are going to run with this story tomorrow. If there is anything that Laura Button would like to respond to, please do so by end of business.

She removes the letter and starts reading.

LIARBIRD? is the headline and the story is about how a garda in Gougane Barra believed that Laura’s grandmother Hattie Button killed her husband. It was thought by the garda at the time that her fourteen-year-old daughter Isabel, who became Button after her father’s death, was also involved. Garda Liam O’Grady died years ago, but his daughter has done an interview with the newspaper. She tells them how her poor father dedicated his life to trying to bring to justice those he believed responsible for the death of his friend, Sean Murphy. The deceased’s wife was Hattie Button, an Englishwoman, who Sean met while she was minding children for a local family. Sean fell for her and they quickly married and had a daughter, but Hattie was unusual, she didn’t venture to the town much or get involved, was always considered a social outcast. Yes, Sean liked a drink, but he was a hard-working farm labourer and a good man. When asked whether Sean was violent, as bruises and cuts, old and new, were found on his wife after his death, the garda’s daughter says she doesn’t know, and anyway it doesn’t alter the fact that Hattie Button and her daughter killed Laura Button’s grandfather Sean Murphy.

Laura feels sick.

Sean was found face down in a creek on their grounds. He had drowned in shallow water. There was alcohol in his system and a blunt-force trauma to the back of his head. Sheila says her father always believed Hattie was responsible for Sean’s death, but he’d never been able to find proof that Hattie killed him. She took her daughter out of school and they became hermits, their only contact with the community was through the family business of dressmaking and alterations, which they needed to keep going. Garda O’Grady always stayed in Hattie’s life, hoping he would catch her out eventually, but it was not to be. He went to his grave feeling he had failed his friend. Laura’s mother was a simple woman, ‘something not quite right with her’, whatever she thinks about her role in Sean Murphy’s death, the garda’s daughter says it’s shameful what ‘Tom Toolin did to her, taking advantage of a sick woman. No wonder they hid the child.’ Sheila is not surprised to learn of Lyrebird’s violent behaviour in the nightclub. ‘She’s not as sweet as she makes herself out to be. She’s a liarbird, not a lyrebird. A liar like her grandmother and mother.’

Laura can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. She can’t make a sound. She reads it all over again, her precious Gaga and Mam being torn apart when they’re dead and buried. Their secrets spilling out, dirty horrible lies that they tried so hard to contain; none of their spirit captured or known, the joy and the fun, the happiness that embraced that cottage, just these cold, ugly, dark, horrible lies.

It’s Laura’s fault. She brought this on them. She should have stayed hidden in the woods.

‘I think she’s in shock,’ Selena, the opera singer, says. There’s a smell of cigarette smoke off her, as she’s just returned from the garden after having her hourly menthol cigarette that she thinks nobody notices her having.

The StarrQuest semi-finals are complete, everybody that has got through to the final is now in the house, the newest arrivals came late last night; Sparks, a nineteen-year-old magician, and Kevin, a young and hunky country and western singer. Despite the fact that only one of them could go through to the final, the votes had been split as the nation had fallen for both young men. Jack, in a moment of weakness, couldn’t bring himself to choose one of them and instead sent them both through. It was a results show of tension and tears. As a consequence of his heartfelt decision there will be six acts in the final next weekend and all have a week living together and to prepare their final performances. Now the five other acts stand around Laura’s bed, watching as she’s curled into a foetal position, staring into space, completely unresponsive.