Page 50 of Lyrebird

‘Future,’ he says, certain. ‘Since I was a kid, I lived in my head. I wanted to be a rock star, I always thought about my future, being older, leaving school, conquering the world with my music.’

She laughs. ‘Was that your flaw?’

‘No.’ He looks at her again and her stomach flips. ‘I think we have the same one.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Not thinking about the present.’

As soon as he says it, everything feels so now. Like a spell has been cast between them, her body tingles from head to toe, feeling so alive yet faint. She has never felt this way around anyone before, in her rare experiences with people; even she knows this isn’t normal. It’s something special.

He looks away and breaks the spell. She tries to hide her disappointment.

‘Everybody loved you last night,’ he says, almost businesslike, matter-of-fact. She’s lost him again, to whatever goes on inside his head when he gets that intense distant look. ‘They think you’ve landed here from another planet. They’ve never seen such a gift.’

She smiles her thanks. ‘It is your mother who is gifted.’ She thinks of Marie, sitting at the harp, sitting so beautifully straight at the harp, and she hears the song before she realises she’s making the sound again.

‘Did you like being on stage?’ he asks her, captivated.

She can tell he has something on his mind. Like last night when he was angry with her because he found her with his brother. She has never met someone like him who seems to have so much going on in their head that isn’t spoken. It’s all in his eyes and his forehead. The thoughts seem to take shape and move around in his brow, knots of thoughts. She wishes they’d break free of his skin so she could see what they are for herself. She wants to place her hands on his forehead and say Stop. Smooth it down, give him peace. Better yet, touch her lips to his frown. He’s uncomfortable now, something has shifted in him so quickly, going from being relaxed to tense in a matter of a few seconds.

He rubs his jaw. She mimics the sound. She loves that sound. Suddenly the bubbling thoughts are gone and the beautiful straight teeth are grinning at her instead. That’s better.

‘That’s what that sound was you made earlier,’ he says, happy to have placed it, perhaps happy that it’s his sound.

Laura would make that sound all day if it meant he’d smile at her like that all the time. But it wouldn’t work, he’d grow tired of the sound, the spark would eventually wear off, she would have to keep finding new ones and this new world was ripe with new sounds for her. Sometimes too many; it was starting to give her a headache trying to process them all. She was eager at first to hear them, understand them, but then as they moved from Macroom to Galway the sounds intensified. Particularly last night. She felt exhausted by the interaction and she looks forward to returning to Cork. Wherever it is she’ll be staying, at least she’ll be spending time on the mountain, surrounded by familiar sounds.

Though no matter how many times people had sung their songs last night, the spark had never seemed to wear off them. She was hearing them for the first time and it was as though they were performing for the first time. Especially Solomon’s performance. He had brought the room alive. Laura’s heart had been in her throat the entire time at the sound of his singing voice, of the twenty things that made him so happy at seventeen.

Solomon’s concern has returned and she senses something. ‘The reason I ask whether you enjoyed performing last night is because Bo called me last night.’

Bo coming into their conversation has altered everything, the space widens between them. Who made that happen, her or him? She looks down at the sand, sees that her feet have moved from her footprints, as have his. They both have stepped away from each other.

‘She had a change of plan,’ he says, sounding strained, forced.

Laura’s heart thuds, hoping Bo won’t pull the plug on the documentary. She doesn’t care in the slightest about it, but she needs it. It’s the only bridge off her island. If she doesn’t have them, she doesn’t know what will become of her life.

‘She wants us to go to Dublin tonight. She’s lined up some interviews for the documentary there.’

Laura feels such relief that it’s still going ahead that she doesn’t care about not returning to her home. She tries to fight the grin from her face.

‘And she has a friend’ – his face darkens and his forehead bubbles – ‘who has a TV talent show, StarrQuest. They would like you to go on the show.’

He seems so conflicted, she’s unsure. The signal to understanding him is coming and going. He keeps talking while she tries to figure him out.

‘Bo showed footage of you to these TV people. Remember the coffee machine at breakfast yesterday?’

Laura makes the sound instantly as she recalls it.

‘Yeah, that one.’ His smile is tight.

‘They like that sound?’ She makes the sound again, listening to herself more carefully to see what was so special about it.

‘It’s unique, Laura. Nobody else makes that sound. Nothing other than … the coffee machine.’

‘Then that coffee machine would have a big chance of winning,’ she says, trying to ease his discomfort.

He laughs loudly and her joke seems to do what was intended.