Cecelia Ahern - Lyrebird - Beautiful, moving and uplifting - the perfect holiday read

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publisher s 2016

This edition published 2017

Copyright © Cecelia Ahern 2016

Jacket design by Heike Schüssler © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2016

Feather illustration based on Simon Cotter’s photograph

Cover images © Shutterstock.com(leaves)

Cecelia Ahern asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007501892

Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780007501885

Version: 2017-10-18

For Paula Pea

It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent. It is one that is most responsive to change.

Attributed to Charles Darwin

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Part 2

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Part 3

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Part 4

Chapter 43

A Summary

Acknowledgements

Questions & Answers

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Cecelia Ahern

About the Publisher

He moves away from the others, their constant chat blending into a tedious monotonous sound in his head. He’s not sure if it’s the jet lag or if he’s simply not interested in what’s going on. It could be both. He feels elsewhere, detached. And if he yawns one more time, she’ll have no hesitation in calling him out on it.

They don’t notice him break away from them, or if they do, they don’t comment. He carries his sound equipment with him; he’d never leave it behind – not just because of its value, but because it’s a part of him by now, like another limb. It’s heavy but he’s used to the weight, oddly is comforted by it. He feels a part of him is missing without it, and walks like he’s carrying the audio bag even when he isn’t, his right shoulder dropped to one side. It might mean he’s found his calling as a sound recordist, but his subconscious connection to it does nothing good for his posture.

He walks away from the clearing, away from the bat house, the cause of the conversation, and moves towards the forest. The fresh cool air hits him as he reaches the edge.

It’s a hot June day, the sun beats down on the top of his head and is baking the naked flesh at the back of his neck. The shade is inviting, a group of midges do high-speed set-dancing in paths of sunlight looking like mythical insects. The woodland floor is cushioned and springy beneath his feet with layers of fallen leaves and bark. He can no longer see the group he left behind and he tunes them out, filling his lungs with the scent of refreshing pine.

He places the audio bag down beside him and leans the boom mic against a tree. He stretches, enjoys the cracks of his limbs and flexing of his muscles. He lifts off his sweater, his T-shirt rising up with it, revealing his stomach, then ties it around his waist. He pulls the hair bobbin from his long hair and ties it up tighter in a topknot, enjoying the air on his sticky neck. Four hundred feet above sea-level he looks out over Gougane Barra and sees tree-covered mountains extending as far as the eye can see, not a sign of a neighbour for miles. One hundred and forty-two hectares of national park. It’s peaceful, serene. He has an ear for sound, has acquired it over time and has had to. He’s learned to listen to what you don’t immediately hear. He hears the birds chirping, the rustle and crack of creatures moving all around him, the low hum of a tractor in the distance, building work hidden in the trees. It’s tranquil, but alive. He inhales the fresh air and as he does he hears a twig snap behind him. He whips around quickly.

A figure darts into hiding behind a tree.

‘Hello?’ he calls out, hearing the aggression in his voice at being caught off guard.

The figure doesn’t move.

‘Who’s there?’ he asks.

She peeks out briefly from behind the trunk, then disappears again, like she’s playing a game of hide-and-seek. An odd thing happens. He now knows he’s safe but his heart starts pounding; the reverse of what it should be doing.

He leaves his equipment behind and slowly walks towards her, the crunch and snap of the floor beneath him revealing his every move. He makes sure to keep space between them, making a wide circle around the tree she hides behind. Then she comes into full view. She tenses, as if readying herself for defence, but he holds his hands up in the air, palms flat, as though in surrender.

She would almost be invisible or camouflaged in the forest if it weren’t for her white-blonde hair and green eyes, the most piercing he’s ever seen. He’s completely captivated.

‘Hi,’ he says, softly. He doesn’t want to scare her away. She seems fragile, on the edge of fleeing, perched on her toes, ready to take off at any moment if he takes a wrong step. So he stops moving, feet rooted to the ground, hands up flat, as if he’s holding up the air, or maybe it’s the air that’s holding him up.

She smiles.

The spell is cast.

She’s like a mythical creature, he can barely see where the tree begins and she ends. The leaves that act as their ceiling flutter in the breeze, causing rippling light effects on her face. They’re seeing each other for the first time, two complete strangers, unable to take their eyes off each other. It is the moment his life splits; who he was before he met her and who he becomes after.