Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird

Alan and Mabel was a worthy winner of StarrQuest , a likeable act, an act you cheer for, chuckle at, cannot help to be moved by with its veiled desperation, but Lyrebird stole the nation’s heart – correction, the world’s heart. I was transported, in that one performance, to my childhood… not something that happens often. Usually it is escape we desire, to get away from what we know so well. Lyrebird brought me to the core of me.

Lyrebird’s sounds came so swiftly, in waves, sometimes overlapping one another wondrously, that it’s impossible for everybody to have heard everything, even in playback. Each sound speaks to every person differently. While dealing with the repercussions of one, another arrives. Doors opened inside of me, feelings came in surprising bursts, here, there everywhere. A flutter in my heart, a pop in my stomach, a lump in my throat, a prick in my tear ducts. I heard my childhood, my adolescence, my youth, my womanhood, my marriage, my motherhood – all in two minutes. It was so great, so overwhelming I held my breath and my tears fell while I watched a still creature on a swing, in a cage, tell us the story of her life. A life in sounds, her sounds, but parts of life that we all share. We came together, it brought us together, a collective gathering of hearts and minds.

It may have lacked the razzle-dazzle of other finals; no doubt the absence of pyrotechnics is something that others will attack, but its subtlety was its strength, its majesty. It took great power to be so refined, and of course with Benoît Moreau at its helm, aided by documentary maker Bo Healy, there should be no surprise. Yet there is. It was filled with humanity, emotion and warmth. It was raw, it was gritty, soft and gentle. It rose and it fell before rising again. Harsh sounds during subtle images, gentle sighs of acceptance when faced with unyielding sorrow.

Lyrebird’s performance was captivating, enchanting, a real moment of not just TV magic, but the kind of magic that rarely occurs in life. Whatever happened in StarrQuest HQ, whatever conversations or alleged altercations took place, it was right, it was fair, it was necessary. Right won out. People will forget, as they usually do, what they felt in those two minutes. It dissipated perhaps in the time it took them to boil the kettle, put the children to bed, send a text message or change the channel, but the feeling was there in the moment, and that they can’t deny.

A change occurred, not just in the TV talent show: it happened within me, too. As a result, I am a TV critic, a woman, in two parts; who I was before I watched Lyrebird’s performance and who I am after.

Asking Laura Button to find the moment her skill arrived would be like asking mankind to explain the moment it was no longer an ape. It is part of her evolution. We know that Laura lived in seclusion for much of her life, ten years on her own, and sixteen years before that in relative seclusion with her mother and grandmother. What we know is that animals that live in seclusion for so long evolve in magnificent and curious ways. Laura is no different.

This lyrebird’s lore travelled far and fast, deep and wide, from a fissure, a crack, deep into the human heart and mind.

It is not the spotlight that encourages growth, it is the sunlight. Jack Starr learned that last night.

The finders found her, the devotees such as I will keep the gifts she gave, now let us leave her be and may she fly free.

Laura finishes reading the piece feeling breathless, her eyes filled with tears. She looks back at Solomon who has stopped strumming while he watches her.

He grins at her reaction. ‘Told you it was good.’

There’s a knock at the door. Ten a.m. on a Sunday morning, he’s not used to visitors.

‘Stay there,’ he says, protectively as he places the guitar down. He pads to the door and looks through the spyhole. It’s Bo.

‘Laura, Bo’s here,’ he says quickly, giving her a chance to compose herself before he answers the door.

‘Bo, hi,’ he says awkwardly, pulling the door open, tucking his hair behind his ears.

She quickly takes in his dishevelled look. ‘Hope I’m not disturbing any…’ Then she sees Laura on the balcony and she seems relieved she hasn’t walked in on anything unsavoury. ‘Can I come in? I won’t stay long.’

‘Sure, sure.’

Laura puts her cup down and goes to stand.

‘No don’t stand for me,’ Bo waves her hand dismissively, seeming awkward as a guest in what was her home only days ago.

‘Please sit,’ Laura pulls the second balcony chair closer to hers.

Bo sits and Solomon hangs back. Bo notices the review on the chair beside her.

‘Oh good, I’m glad you saw that.’

Laura smiles. ‘She mentions you too. Thank you, Bo. I appreciate everything you did for me over the past few days.’

Bo’s cheeks pink. ‘You shouldn’t be thanking me. It was the right thing to do. Finally. I should have stepped in sooner, but I didn’t know how to. Have you any idea what you’re going to do now? I’m sure there have been a lot of offers.’

Laura shakes her head. ‘I have some thinking to do. You’re right, there have been offers. Even a cooking show,’ she grins.

‘You would be great at that!’ Bo laughs.

‘I’d like to do something on foraging… outside the kitchen,’ Laura says, but trails off. ‘I don’t know, everything I want to do, that’s truly me, means going home. I feel like I can’t move forward without going there. I want to sit down with Joe. There’s so much that I want to talk to him about, ask him about, explain to him. I’m sure he’s feeling so hurt by what Tom did, there’s a lot I can tell him that will help him. And I want you to know that I’ll honour your documentary. I’ll keep my word on that, but if Joe will ever talk to me, I think we will need to be alone.’

‘Gosh, Laura, that goes without saying,’ Bo says, waving her hand dismissively. ‘I came to give you this.’ She reaches into her bag and retrieves an envelope. ‘I got this from StarrGaze Entertainment.’

Solomon eyes the envelope suspiciously. He doesn’t want anything from StarrGaze in here, though they were honourable to Laura in the end, he’s cautious of what more ‘help’ they can offer.

Bo senses his wariness. ‘You still don’t trust me,’ Bo says quietly, sounding betrayed and resigned.

‘Bo,’ he says gently. ‘It’s not you, it’s them. I’m sorry. Of course I trust you, especially after everything you did for the final.’

Bo seems relieved. ‘You liked it?’

‘Loved it, but you used your documentary footage.’

She shrugs. ‘Well, I still own it, it’s not exclusive any more but I think I can live with that. It was the right thing to do. Look, they didn’t exactly give this to me, okay? So…’

‘We won’t say a word,’ Solomon agrees, watching Laura turn the envelope over and her eyes go wide when she reads the writing.

‘What is it?’ he asks concerned.

‘From Joe Toolin, Toolin Farm, Gougane Barra,’ Laura reads, quickly taking the letter out.

Solomon looks at Bo in surprise.

They watch as Laura unfolds the letter, note the light tremble of the paper in her shaking hands. She reads aloud.

To Whom It May Concern:

Laura Button was born in Gougane Barra, Co. Cork, Ireland. Her mother was Isabel Button (Murphy) and her father was Tom Toolin. She lived with Hattie Button and Isabel Button until she was sixteen years of age and then on my property, Toolin Cottage, Toolin Farm, Gougane Barra, Co. Cork, until recently.

I am her uncle. I hope this is all that you need for the passport.

Good luck to her.

Joe Toolin

Laura looks up at Bo, her eyes filled with tears.