Lyrebird. Cecelia Ahern
Читать онлайн книгу.
can’t think straight.’
They watch as she knocks again.
‘If Bo was looking for a new story, then she sure as fuck found one. This is a whole new brand of crazy,’ Rachel says.
‘She won’t agree to an interview,’ Solomon says, watching the door.
‘You know Bo.’
He does. Bo has a way of convincing people who are so sure about not wanting to appear on camera into eventually speaking with her. When she really wants them, that is; the three interviews at the graveyard weren’t important so she hadn’t pursued them. Solomon and Rachel aren’t usually this listless when it comes to a project, but Bo’s typical filming style has severely altered today. She’s jumpy, grabbing at things, obviously without a plan.
Laura appears at the window but refuses to open the door.
‘Tell her I want Mossie,’ Joe says loudly, fidgeting, his hands in his pockets. He’s uncomfortable. It’s been an emotional day, having to bury his soulmate. A day spent out of his comfort zone, a break in his routine that has gone unchanged for over fifty years. His world has turned upside down. It’s taken its toll and he wants his dog and to get back to the safety of his farmhouse.
‘Please open the door, we just want to talk,’ Bo says.
Laura stares at Solomon from the window.
Then everyone looks at Solomon.
‘Tell her,’ Bo says to him.
‘What?’
‘She’s looking at you to see if it’s okay. Tell her that we only want to talk.’
‘Joe wants the dog,’ Solomon says honestly, and Rachel chuckles.
Laura disappears from the window.
‘Smooth,’ Rachel smirks. The two are now delirious from the lack of food.
Joe is about to bang on the door when it opens. Mossie runs out and she closes the door again and locks it.
Joe storms off while an excited Mossie dances around him, almost tripping him.
‘I’ll ring Jimmy,’ Joe grumbles as he passes. ‘He’ll sort her out.’
‘Wait, Joe,’ Bo calls after him.
‘Let it go,’ Rachel snaps. ‘I’m starving. Let’s head over to the hotel. Eat. Actual food. I need to call Susie. Then you can make a plan. I’m serious.’
Rachel rarely loses her temper. The only time she flares up is when something is disturbing her shot – people in the background making faces, or Solomon’s mic boom appearing in the frame – but when she does lose her temper everyone knows she means it. Bo knows she’s pushed them too far.
She gives in, for now.
Back at Gougane Barra Hotel, Solomon and Rachel dig into their dinners, not uttering a word, while Bo thinks aloud.
‘Tom must have known about this girl, right? He was the one who checked that area, that was part of his responsibility, checking the well a few times a week. You can’t check the well without noticing the cottage. Or the vegetable plot, or the goat and chickens. It would be impossible. And there’s the extra items of food on the shopping list, the bookshelves and the book from Bridget. Plus, Mossie knows her, so Tom must have brought him to visit her.’
‘He’s a dog.’ Solomon speaks for the first time since he started eating ten minutes ago. ‘Dogs wander. He could have met her himself.’
‘Good point.’
‘Met her,’ Rachel says. ‘Do dogs meet people? I guess they meet people who speak dog,’ she jokes, then stops laughing when the others don’t join in; Bo because she’s not listening, Solomon because he’s sensitive about mocking Laura. ‘Whatever. I’m going to call Susie.’ Rachel takes her plate of food with her to another table.
‘What is that thing she was doing? The noises?’ Bo asks Solomon. ‘Is it a Tourette’s thing? She growled and barked and chirped.’
‘As far as I know, people with Tourette’s don’t bark at people,’ Solomon says, licking the sticky sauce from his fingers before taking a bite of his pork ribs.
The sauce is all over his face. Bo looks at him in disgust, not understanding his absolute inability to function without food. She stops picking at her green salad.
‘You have your food now, why are you still snapping at me?’
‘I don’t think you handled today well.’
‘I think you’ve been jet-lagged, moody and irritable all day,’ she says. ‘Extra sensitive – which, for you, is saying a lot.’
‘You scared Laura.’
‘I scared Laura,’ she repeats, as she always does, as if saying the words again will help her to process them. She does the same during interviews with interviewees’ responses. It can be unsettling for them, as though she doesn’t believe them, but really it’s her trying to grasp what they’ve just said.
‘You could tell she was frightened. You could see a young woman, surrounded by four people in a forest. Three of us dressed in black for a funeral, like we’re ninjas. She was terrified, and you were filming.’
That set-up seems to occur to her suddenly. ‘Shit.’
‘Yes, shit.’ He sucks his fingers again and studies her. ‘What’s going on?’
‘What we saw today was remarkable. What that girl did—’
‘Laura.’
‘What Laura did, those sounds she made, it was like magic. And I don’t believe in magic. I’ve never heard anything like that before.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I got excited.’
‘You got greedy.’
Silence.
He finishes his rib, watches the news on the TV in the corner.
‘You know everyone keeps asking me what I’ve got coming out next,’ she says.
‘Yeah, they’re asking me too.’
‘I’ve got nothing. Nothing like The Toolin Twins. All these awards we’re getting – people are interested in my work now. I have to be able to follow it up.’
He’s known she’s been feeling the pressure, and he’s glad she’s finally admitting it.
‘You should be happy you made one thing that people like. Some people never get that. The reason you were successful in the first place is because you took your time. You found the right story, you were patient. You listened. Today was a mess, Bo. You were rushing around like a headless chicken. People would rather see something authentic and worthy, than something that’s been thrown together.’
‘Is that why you’re doing Fat Fit Club and Grotesque Bodies?’
The anger bubbles inside him as he tries to remain calm. ‘We’re talking about you, not me.’
‘I’m under pressure, Solomon.’
‘Don’t be.’
‘You can’t tell someone not to feel pressure.’
‘I just did.’
‘Solomon …’ She doesn’t know whether to laugh or be angry.
‘You lost yourself in the forest,’ he says. He hadn’t planned on saying it, it just popped out.
She studies him. ‘Who are you talking to? Me, or yourself?’
‘You, obviously,’ he says, then throws the rib down. It makes a