But it doesn’t feel like it, sometimes, that’s all, particularly now. She’s sure that’s natural too.
As for the StarrQuest idea, despite Solomon’s reservations, which she had too, she still thinks it’s a good idea. Like Laura said, sometimes you only need one person to trust. StarrQuest is Jack’s show and despite everything they’ve been through, Bo trusts him.
Solomon swears and stuffs his phone in his pocket. It’s still bright outside, the sky starting to darken as the summer evening closes in. He takes a deep breath, his mind fuming over what Bo has said to him. Bringing Laura to Dublin to enter StarrQuest seems like the tackiest, cheesiest fucking thing that Bo could come up with, but he can’t flat-out refuse. All he can do is tell Laura and see what she says. It’s her life, not his. He has to stop getting so involved in other people’s issues, he has to stop being so sensitive to every little happening around him. It’s not his job to put out other people’s fires, it’s not his job to feel other people’s problems, but he is that way, always has been. He can’t help it. He was always the lad who tried to get couples back together if there was a misunderstanding and they broke up. He was always the lad to try to cool a drunken argument between mates on a night out. Any misunderstanding that has nothing to do with him, he tries to jump in and fix. The arbitrator. The counsellor. The peacekeeper. It stresses him more than the ones directly involved; he feels the anger, the hurt, the injustice those people should be feeling multiplied in himself. He knows he does it, realises now that he probably shouldn’t, but he can’t stop.
As the anger cools, so does his body heat. The sea breeze causes goosebumps to rise on his skin. He plans on hunting for a cigarette – he only smokes when he’s highly strung, or drunk, and right now he’s feeling a little of both – but suddenly he hears a sound from inside that stops him in his tracks and sends his heart racing.
‘Carolan’s Dream’ is being played again, but he knows it’s not his mother playing. Marie wouldn’t play it twice on a night, never has before, can’t see why she’d do it now. It’s close to her version, but not quite. It’s somebody else attempting it, but he can’t pinpoint what’s wrong. There are no wrong strings being hit, nothing out of tune, but there is something removed, and there is nobody remotely as talented as his mother on the harp who could attempt that. Not in that room. He moves as if in slow motion, as if he’s standing on a camera as it tracks across the scene. He barely feels his feet move, his head is in the music, the music is in his head. He follows it as if it beckons him, as if it’s a beacon, drawing him in. From the kitchen, the kitchen door leading to the session is open again and all he can see is the crowd. All eyes forward, mouths agape, heads shaking, eyes wide and some filled with the beauty of what they’re hearing and seeing. He stands at the doorway and nobody notices him. He looks at the stage and there sits Laura on a stool, alone on the platform, her eyes closed, her mouth open, mimicking the sound of the Celtic harp.
Solomon’s mother, who is standing beside the raised platform next to Finbar, turns to see Solomon. She rushes towards him, a look of what appears to be concern on her face, hands to her mouth.
‘Oh, Solomon,’ she whispers, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling herself close to him. She turns to face Laura.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, confused. For a moment he’s afraid she’s going to throw a diva tantrum that Laura is playing her song on her special night. It would be completely out of character, but he can’t place her emotions.
She ignores him for a moment, caught in Laura’s spell. Then she turns to him. ‘I’ve never seen nor heard anyone like her in my life. She’s magical.’
Solomon smiles, relieved. Proud. ‘Now you get to hear how beautifully you play,’ he says to her.
‘Oh my,’ she says, hands to her hot cheeks.
He glances around the faces of the crowd, everybody utterly captivated, experiencing something new and astonishing for the first time in their lives.
Perhaps he was unfair to Bo. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Laura deserves an audience, and not just the kind that a documentary would provide. She needs a live audience, a real live reaction. Seeing her in person is visceral, it brings her and her skills alive. Perhaps, like the lyrebird, on a platform is exactly where she’s meant to be.
15
As soon as Laura has finished mimicking ‘Carolan’s Dream’, the crowd erupts in applause. They jump to their feet, hollering and whistling, shouting for more. Laura receives such a fright from the reception that she stands frozen on the spot, staring out at everyone.