He screws his face up, squeezes his eyes shut while thinking about an answer. ‘I used to work on it,’ he says. ‘Sound.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘Nothing gets past you.’ He smiles. ‘It’s a risk. You could do the audition and not get through to the next round. The crowd could love you, the crowd could for some unknown reason take a dislike to you. You could audition and be booed off the stage. You could audition and possibly win. If that happens, your life could go in a myriad of directions. It depends on what you want to do with your life.’
‘And if I don’t win?’
He thinks about it. ‘You’ll be forgotten almost immediately.’
She gives it careful thought. Directions, Laura thinks. Options. Different directions sound good because she can’t go back. If she makes a fool of herself she’ll be forgotten, that’s not so bad. That’s almost a perk.
‘I’ll do it,’ she says firmly, to Solomon’s surprise.
From one bridge to another.
That afternoon, when Solomon’s brothers have risen from their beds and come to life, they make their way to a clay pigeon shooting range nearby. Competition is the name of the game and always has been between the siblings and their dad, Cara excluded; she chooses to stay home and catch up with her mother. A keen poker player, Finbar always has his eye on winning and has instilled this into his children. Every year they go hunting; pheasant, woodcock, pigeon, game, whatever is available, and the amount they hit is the mark of the man. As it’s out of season for bird hunting, they have to settle for clay pigeon shooting, and already Finbar has devised a method of scorekeeping and rules.
Solomon and Laura plan to follow the others in Solomon’s car, but as they are moving out, the car door opens and Rory jumps in. Solomon feels rage but buries it. Laura’s eyes light up and she politely giggles away at the ridiculous jokes and stories Rory tells on the way in. Solomon tries to compose himself while ignoring most of the things his brother says, but he’s unable to ignore how animated Laura has become in Rory’s company.
Laura walks with Rory to the shooting range, which consists of a series of wooden cabins in a row. Solomon stays protectively beside her, though not too close. He’s not sure whether she wants him to leave but he chooses to stay regardless. Five cabins, all holding groups of six, are full. A weekend of good summer weather has brought the groups out.
Laura is content to sit on the bench and watch them fight it out. To Solomon’s irritation, Rory sits beside Laura. Solomon stands nearby feeling like a spare part, trying to hear their conversation. She likes him, he knows that much, and so as the game goes on he moves away, gives them space, feeling pushed out and resenting his brother, and himself, the whole time.
Solomon concentrates intently on hitting the clay pigeons while Rory talks behind him. He feels that Rory is doing it deliberately, a ploy to put him off his game, and then again realises the arrogance of that thought. Solomon misses the first clay.
‘Shut the fuck up, lads,’ he barks, and they quieten. Finbar shushes Rory, which pleases Solomon and he hits every one after that. Five in a row, but that’s only a warm-up round. Rory is up next and Solomon is pleased to have the bench.
Laura holds her hand up for a high-five.
Solomon smiles and meets her hand, allowing his fingers to cave in and join with hers. She smiles at him. They let their hands fall down slowly, still linked. Then he thinks of Bo and wonders what the fuck he’s doing and lets go.
Rory hits every single one.
‘That’s what you get for missing Christmas,’ Finbar teases Solomon, who missed the Christmas hunt.
‘Ah, don’t be too hard on him,’ Donal says, picking up the gun and taking his place. ‘These award-winning documentary makers are jet-setters now.’
‘It wasn’t me getting the award, lads, it was Mouth to Mouth that was receiving it.’ Solomon folds his arms and stands next to Laura. He thinks about sitting down but there’s no room on her side, and he doesn’t want to sit beside Rory, who’s taken his place again.
‘You were receiving mouth to mouth?’ Donal asks before pulling the trigger.
Solomon explains to Laura: ‘It’s the name of Bo’s production company. She sees documentaries as a way of breathing life into stories. Helping them come alive.’
Rory makes a vomiting sound.
‘Grow up, Rory.’
‘Wawwy,’ Laura says, in Solomon’s perfect impression of himself.
She’s not teasing Solomon and hopes he doesn’t feel that, but she’s assessing the atmosphere between him and Rory and puts it down to that. A simple word explains how Solomon feels. Though Rory doesn’t see it that way, neither do the others. The lads laugh thinking she’s mocking him. Solomon folds his arms and looks into the distance. ‘Come on, get a move on, we’ll be here all day.’