She laughs. ‘I’m not good at all that family stuff. I’m from a socially repressed family of four. All that touchy-feely singing and dancing, and self-expression, makes me nervous.’
Solomon has three brothers and one sister, all of whom will be there this weekend, some with partners, wives, children. Then there are his uncles, aunts and cousins, before you even count the crazy neighbours and random people who drop in because they hear music when they’re passing. It’s noisy, it’s not easy if you’re not used to it and Bo doesn’t have the kind of easy-going nature that can take an entire weekend of banter. He feels equally uncomfortable in her suburban house. There’s too much silence, watching of words, politeness. Solomon’s family talk about everything, a lively debate encompassing politics, current affairs, sport and what’s happening between the bedsheets of the house next door. His family deplore silence. Silence is used for dramatic effect in a story only. Words, music or song were created to eradicate silences.
But truth be told, Solomon doesn’t mind in the slightest that Bo won’t be joining them. In fact, it will be easier for him with her not there, or it would have been if Laura wasn’t coming with him.
‘I don’t think Laura is going to be a completely changed person by Monday when it’s time to film. She’ll still be making those sounds,’ he says.
‘You think?’
‘Yeah. It’s part of who she is.’
‘Maybe we can help her to see someone about it. Document her therapy or something,’ Bo says, stepping back in producer mode. ‘As part of her moving on. There’s so many ways to approach this documentary, I really need to get my head straight.’
‘Why would she want to lose her sounds?’ Solomon asks.
Bo fixes him with a confused look.
Solomon hears Rachel returning and Bo gives him one final peck before stepping away.
‘You wouldn’t stay here with her?’ she asks. ‘Save all her new first times until I get back?’
Solomon’s heartbeat hastens at that comment, trying to judge her tone. He has picked her up wrong; of course she doesn’t mean that first for Laura, if in fact it would even be her first. But he’s thought about it, a lot, and his conclusion is that she must be a virgin, she’s been at the cottage since she was sixteen. And there wasn’t anybody in her life before? She would have said so. He tries to hide what Bo’s comment has done to him.
He clears his throat.
‘I’m not missing my mam’s seventieth birthday.’ He steadies his voice. ‘Laura can go with you to Dublin, if you really want. You can watch her progress for yourself.’ As soon as he’s said it he wants to take it back. His heart drums even louder in his chest as he awaits her answer, but the reverse psychology has worked. Bo looks alarmed, like a new mother at the prospect of being left alone with her baby for the first time.
‘No, she’s better with you. She prefers you.’
He shields his relief as she guards her terror. He wonders if she can see through him as easily as he sees through her.
Solomon drives Bo and Rachel to the train station. The initial plan had been for Bo and Rachel to drive to Dublin while Solomon was to catch the bus to Galway, however it was agreed that a three-hour bus journey with Laura and a packed bus full of new sounds might not be the best way for her travel. On the way to the train station, Rachel and Laura sit together getting along together amicably, their conversations simple and easy.
‘You’ve just revealed yourself to be one big softy on this one,’ Solomon teases as they unload the car, helping Rachel with her camera equipment. ‘It must be impending motherhood that’s doing it to you. Hormones.’
‘Less of the big, if you don’t mind,’ Rachel says gruffly.
‘Seriously. Laura likes you,’ Solomon says.
‘Yeah. She likes you more though,’ Rachel says, fixing him with a knowing look. A warning look. ‘Be good. See you Monday.’
12
‘Mam. It’s Solomon.’
‘Hi, love, everything all right?’
‘Yes. Fine … Em. I’m on my way to you and I’m bringing somebody with me.’
‘Bo?’ That wary tone, though of all the members of the family she tries to hide it the most, always trying to be respectful to the various other halves she has not taken a liking to.
‘No, not Bo – she’s really sorry, but she couldn’t get out of that guest lecture she has. It’s a big honour, and she can’t miss it,’ he explains, covering all angles, and doesn’t know why he bothers, always apologising to other people on other people’s behalf when none of those people ever care.
‘Of course, of course, she’s a busy woman.’