The documentary crew and Laura sit in the laboratory of David Kelly of the Irish Ornithology Society. Rachel examines the monitor beside her, a nicely lit set-up, birdcages in the background, scientific equipment placed strategically in the shot while Mr Kelly looks on feeling powerless. ‘Well, okay, but it wouldn’t ordinarily be there,’ he says, a little flustered as Bo moves his bird posters from one wall to another to fit the frame better.
He’s finally in situ with Bo off camera, seated and ready to begin the interview. Solomon is all set, boom mic extended over them both. Laura is over his left shoulder. Everyone is happy, apart from Solomon; it is a sound nightmare. Each time David Kelly speaks, a bird squawks. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Laura mimics it.
Just as Rachel loses her temper when something interferes with her shot, Solomon’s mood is severely altered when something affects his sound. While David Kelly looks at Laura, exasperated at having to begin his response again, Solomon doesn’t feel the slightest agitation. He’s just happy she’s here with him, her sounds a reminder of her presence, which is rather miraculous when it comes to his temperament.
She looks at David, wide-eyed and innocent, as if she hasn’t done anything at all.
Solomon felt before the interview even began that it was inappropriate to bring her here, he’s not sure how much she should be listening to as others speak about her or about aspects of her. Who ever needs to know what people say about them behind their backs? He’s shared this with Bo and while she agreed they don’t have many options; Laura refuses to stay in the apartment alone. She wants to be with Solomon.
‘Okay, Dr Kelly, please go again. Same question, same answer, please,’ Bo says.
‘Certainly. A lyrebird is a ground …’
‘I’m sorry, could you begin without the “certainly”.’
‘My apologies, of course.’ He leaves a silence. Rachel gives him the nod. Rolling. ‘A lyrebird is a ground-dwelling Australian bird known for its—’
‘Hold on …’ Bo interrupts. ‘Sorry, guys. Too fast,’ she stops him. And she’s right. Dr Kelly is trying to get the words out before another bird, and Laura, squawks. ‘A little slower – as you were before was perfect. Please continue.’
Headphones on. Rolling.
‘A lyrebird is a ground-dwelling Australian bird that is famous for its—’
Squawwwwk. Bird.
Squawwwwk. Laura.
‘… powerful mimicry,’ he continues. ‘It makes its home in the densely timbered …’
Squawwwwk. Bird.
Squawwwwk. Laura.
‘… mountains. Very few people see lyrebirds. Though they …’
Tap tap of a beak against the cage, which is mimicked by Laura.
Solomon looks at Bo with frustration. This is a mess. Even David Kelly is looking flustered, continuing to talk while it looks like he’s being constantly prodded in the ribs by an invisible attacker.
‘No,’ Rachel says suddenly, interrupting the entire thing. Solomon removes his headphones and tries to hide his smile. ‘This isn’t good.’
‘Maybe we should try somewhere else where there aren’t birds,’ Bo suggests perkily, keeping the energy up.
David Kelly sneaks a glimpse at his watch.
The boardroom is quiet. No traffic, no people, no phones, no hum of an air-conditioning unit. The elements are good for Solomon. There’s lots of dark mahogany and Rachel has more work to do with lighting, but it works. There are birds in the frame, birds in glass containers, standing on branches. Only problem is, they’re dead, and stuffed, which concerns Solomon.
Laura joins them. She looks at the glass case of birds. Solomon sees the confusion in her face, but she doesn’t say anything. He places the headphones on. Laura’s fingers run over the glass cabinet, trying to get to the birds inside and before David Kelly can even speak Laura’s sounds begin again; the gunshot, the hare that fell, its whimpers, Mossie’s dying sounds. A new sound, the computer gunshots from the little boy’s computer game in the hotel a few days ago, as she links the two.
Dr Kelly stands up and looks at her. ‘Goodness. That is remarkable.’
Laura looks up, sees everyone staring at her and her sounds stop. Her hand falls from the glass. ‘How did they die?’
‘Lie,’ Solomon says through a cough to him.
‘Oh. Um. Natural causes,’ he says.
Laura frowns and looks at Solomon. She imitates the cough he has made, over and over until the word lie is clearly audible. Solomon sighs.
‘Look, I think we should do this in your office. It’s the best place,’ Bo suddenly decides.
‘You said you didn’t like that room,’ David Kelly says, like he’s an offended child.
‘Now it’s perfect,’ Bo says, picking up her things and moving everyone on again.
‘I really should get going. I have a lecture …’