Page 92 of Lyrebird

Solomon ignores her.

‘So you know her real name, you read the news,’ Barry says, unimpressed.

‘Okay okay, let’s keep it calm,’ the second security guy says. ‘There’s no need to get upset.’

Solomon calms down, he likes this guy, he may see reason. ‘Step this way with me.’ He follows him, out of eyeshot of the crowd, into the security hut. Solomon feels he’s been taken seriously. ‘Now let me tell you how it works here,’ he says calmly.

‘I told him,’ Barry interrupts, behind him.

‘Barry,’ he warns, and Barry leaves the hut swearing.

‘We are given a list of people who are allowed to visit. It’s a very strict list. If you want to visit somebody in the house you’re supposed to contact the production office, who then alert us. We’re not allowed to let any Tom, Dick or Harry just waltz in. And you’re not even family. And it’s ten o’clock at night. Too late for visitors.’

‘I understand that, I appreciate that. And that’s the way it should be, but I know that Laura wants to see me. I’m not on the list because she didn’t know that I was able to visit, but I can and now if you let her know that I’m here, I promise you this won’t be a waste of time.’

He looks at Solomon like he’s trying to figure him out.

He picks up the phone and the relief floods through Solomon.

‘Simon, it’s Richie. I’ve got a visitor for Lyrebird. Yeah. He’s here right now. Not on the list but he wants to see her.’

‘Solomon Fallon,’ Solomon says, realising he hasn’t even asked him his name.

‘Solomon Fallon,’ he says down the phone. He listens. They wait. ‘They’re checking,’ he says. He looks around as he waits a little longer.

Something’s up. Solomon senses something amiss. He looks at the phone and realises that Richie isn’t even on the phone. He hasn’t made a real phone call, this is all a farce. When Solomon listens carefully he can hear the dial tone on the other end of the phone.

‘This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit.’ He swipes all the paperwork off the table and storms out and gets into his car. Barry outside salutes him, while Richie shrugs as if it was worth a try.

‘Contact the production office,’ Richie repeats firmly, tapping the hood of the car with his hand.

Solomon puts his foot down and drives away at top speed, his blood rushing, his heart racing with anger.

A knock on the door wakes Laura the following morning and Simon from StarrGaze Entertainment tells her that Curtis is here. She slips on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and an oversized cardigan that she hugs around her body for protection. It’s one that Solomon chose for her in Cork. She leaves her freshly washed hair down so she can hide her face and pads barefoot downstairs to the meeting room.

Curtis sits at the head of a dining table. The dining room faces the front of the house, Laura pauses at the door and looks at the window.

‘Sit down,’ he says.

‘Can they see us?’

He looks out the window. ‘You’re worried about being seen now?’ He stands up and closes the curtains anyway.

‘Thanks,’ she says quietly, nervously.

‘StarrGaze has done a lot for you. We welcomed you, treated you well, gave you an international platform, flew you to Australia, paid for your clothes, hair, hotels. We haven’t held back on anything.’

‘I know and I truly—’

He continues as if she hasn’t spoken. ‘We are a family show. Our demographic from sixteen to thirty-four is over seventy per cent.’ He maintains his hostile stare, as if to emphasise that she really needs to grasp this. ‘We expect you to adhere to the contract you signed, which stipulates that you will not do anything to harm the good image and brand of StarrQuest and StarrGaze Entertainment.’

He doesn’t let her get a word in edgeways.

‘We’ve talked and we reached the decision that you can proceed with the remainder of the show. We will allow you to perform in the final.’

He leaves a long pause and Laura looks at him, eyes wide. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be removed from the show.

He looks as if he’s waiting for something.