Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

Everything for her changed; life before she’d met Solomon, and life after.

She swallowed the hard lump gathered in her throat. She’s dreamt of his hands on her body, his kiss on her skin, she’s imagined his touch, what he would feel like. Would he be gentle or strong, how he would kiss? She’s watched him with Bo, from the corner of her eye, she’s seen the tenderness he’s capable of and wonders, would he be that way, or different with her? She can’t help but wonder how his skin tastes, the feel of his tongue. From the moment she saw him, she hasn’t been able to stop these thoughts.

She knew it was wrong to feel it. She’d tried to stop, but she kept being pulled back to him. She knew from her mum and Gaga that there was no place for a woman who took another woman’s man. They would have disapproved; she already disapproved of herself, even though they were only private thoughts. She’d clung to him, like a life raft, not thinking about anybody else. She’d thought being so far away from him in Australia would end it, keep her away from him, the other side of the world. It hadn’t. She’d thought meeting other men would distract her. Maybe because he was the only one she knew, that’s why her feelings were so heightened. That hadn’t been the case either. It seemed ironic, romantic and twisted that the first man she’d met would be the only one she ever wanted.

None of the distractions in the world would work. And his scent… it wasn’t just his cologne, it was his skin. Sleeping in his room, living in his home, she felt like she was embraced by him. When she turned her head to the pillow and buried her face in it, it was like burying her face in him. She’d groan lightly with frustration because it wasn’t enough. To be surrounded by him, on the outside of him, near him. It wasn’t enough. She’d moved to the couch to distract herself.

She’s afraid to breathe as she senses him behind her. She closes her eyes while the documentary plays and she imagines him coming up behind her, his lips on her neck, hands on her hips, then everywhere. Startled by her thoughts so close to him, she opens her eyes and focuses hard on the documentary, on what her uncle and father are saying. Her heart pounds, and not because she is seeing her father alive again.

Watching the documentary hasn’t provided her with any solace at all so far. If anything, she feels even more alone. She was hoping to feel connected, rooted again, stop her floating head from drifting, ground herself with what is happening in her life. Start feeling, start hearing again, start making sounds again. However, she can’t help feeling that throughout the entire documentary she was living only metres away and yet there isn’t a trace of her, a hint of her.

‘You never wanted a wife, or children?’ Bo asks, on the documentary, and suddenly Laura sits up.

Joe shakes his head, amused by the question, a little shy. A woman ? Even with his lined aged face, he looks like a schoolboy when faced with this topic.

‘I’m busy here. With the farm. Lots to do.’

‘Sure who’d have him?’ Tom teases.

‘What about you, Tom? Have you never wanted marriage or a family?’

He spends more time thinking about it than Joe did.

‘Everything I have, everything I need, is right here, on this mountain.’

Laura pauses this, her heart hammering in her chest, and yes, this time it’s because of her father. She rewinds it, then plays it again. She watches Bo ask the same question of the two men in caps bent over hay bales. Whatever about Rachel’s stunning cinematography, the sight of the identical twins alone is beautiful. They have aged in exactly the same way.

She plays it again.

Her father.

‘Everything I have, everything I need, is right here, on this mountain.’

On this mountain.

Laura’s heart is pounding so much. To stop herself getting carried away, she scans the background to make sure it’s the right mountain. Just in case. Maybe there’s another child on another mountain, another woman who came after her mum. She’s sure it isn’t true, but just in case, something so big as this, she needs to understand correctly. She rewinds it again. Plays.

By the time she has watched it for the fourth time, she’s sure. He had time to think about it, so much time that even Joe looked at him with that shy schoolboy grin on his face. His brother’s being asked about girls, he sniggers at him.

What was on Tom’s mountain? Joe, his home, his business, his sheep, his dogs, his memories and, yes, Laura. She lived on that mountain, so that meant he was including Laura too. He might not have loved her in a conventional way that fathers love their daughters, but he acknowledged her, he recognised her, he valued her. And that means the world to Laura.

Only once she has thought it all through does she remember Solomon. She turns around, a big smile on her face. He’s gone. His bedroom door is closed. Her smile fades fast, until she remembers her father’s words, then she goes to bed feeling as though he has just given her the hug she longed for but he never gave her until now.

Solomon gently raps on Laura’s door. He’s tentative at first and then he knocks with more confidence.

‘Laura, I-’

The door opens, she’s wearing his T-shirt, that’s all. She looks at him, sleepy green eyes barely open or used to the daylight. She has a sleepy smell, a warm cosy bed smell and he wants to fall into her, literally. He looks her up and down while she rubs her eyes, her long legs, lean thighs disappear beneath his T-shirt.

‘Sorry about the T-shirt,’ she apologises. ‘I should have asked you but…’ She can’t think of an excuse and he doesn’t care.

‘No, don’t apologise. It’s fine. It’s great. I mean, you’re great. It looks great on you,’ he flounders. The neck is too wide for her, there are three buttons on the top, they’re all open so that he can see the curve of her breasts, one side gapes and if he leaned forward he would probably see…

She looks down at the plate in his hand.

‘Oh. Yes. I made you a chicken salad. With pomegranate. Just because pomegranates are in everything these days.’

She smiles, touched.

‘You should eat before we go to the studio, this’ll be better than that plastic crap.’ He looks down at the dish again. ‘Or then again, maybe not.’ He feels like he’s waffling. He’s a grown man, who wants desperately to go to bed with this woman, he needs to act like it. Though he can’t go to bed with her, that’s the problem. He will ruin her. He’s already done a good job of it so far. He straightens up, takes a step backward as he realises he’s practically leering at her. ‘We need to leave in a few hours. You slept all morning.’

‘I couldn’t sleep last night.’ She looks terrified at the thought of the show tonight.

‘Me neither.’ Their eyes lock. He’d swear she has a hypnotic effect on him. He snaps out of it. ‘The show starts at eight. You’re on first. You don’t need to be there until six. Later than usual, but they said you don’t need to hang around. They’ll do the sound checks without you.’

‘What about a rehearsal?’ she asks, confused.

‘They said you don’t need one. You’ll be absolutely fine, Laura. It’s the last show. The last two minutes you’ll ever be up there. Make it count.’

‘You were making me feel better until you said that.’

‘What I mean is, you need to show them who you really are. In fact, don’t show them, just be you. And they’ll see.’ When she smiles at him, he laughs. ‘I’m shit at this, aren’t I? Last time I had a warm-up gig for an act, twenty people left before the main act arrived.’