‘Well, we’ll have a run-through and we’ll see for ourselves,’ Tommy says good-naturedly. No panic. Not yet. A few hours till they go live. ‘That’s what we’re here for.’
He explains timing issues with her, where she stands for the ruling, where she walks to when she’s finished. Finally, it’s time for the run-through. Solomon, Bo and Rachel leave the stage, as does everybody else, while the lights and music dramatically leap into action. Laura looks around, jumping slightly at the dramatic music. The ten-second countdown before she begins, while the stage is bathed in red, and then it is bathed in green, time for her two minutes to begin. The timer on the clock on the screen above her head counts down the seconds she has to convince King Jack Starr whether she will go through to the next round of semi-finals.
Laura holds the microphone to her mouth and looks around. She doesn’t say anything. Her breath is audible in the absolute silence.
Tommy stands at the edge of the stage, holds his hands up in a grand gesture. ‘Say something, anything, doesn’t matter what, we just need to hear you.’
Bo looks nervous, Solomon isn’t sure if she’s worried about Laura or about her own reputation. Rachel is biting her lip and looking down at the ground, an angry energy emanating from her. Solomon makes a note to ask her about it later.
They go through the ten-second countdown again.
Laura looks at Solomon and spends the full two minutes making the sound of the coffee machine. Solomon laughs so much Bo elbows him in the stomach, production staff glare at him, and he has to leave the studio because he can’t help himself.
Hours later, when the live show has begun, while four people have had the thumbs up and five have had the thumbs down, Solomon, Rachel and Bo film Laura’s nervous wait backstage. She can barely speak with the nerves. Bianca, her handler, doesn’t leave her side and Laura, jumpy, imitates the sound of the walkie-talkie in Bianca’s hand and just about everything Bianca does. Bianca ignores it as though it’s not happening.
Bianca counts her down to her performance. ‘We’ll go to the studio in two minutes.’
Laura’s breath catches and she moves away.
‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
‘Hold on, hold on, you can’t go now,’ Bianca says, alarm in her eyes, things no longer cool.
Solomon puts the boom mic down, and Rachel too stops filming.
‘What are you doing?’ Bo looks at them, confused.
Rachel refuses to answer. The camera is on the floor beside her, her arms are crossed, her eyes to the floor.
‘Solomon?’
He takes Laura by the arm and leads her around the corner, out of earshot from everybody else, but still just in case, he moves his lips to her ear, so close that he feels his nose brush her hair, his lips brush her soft earlobe.
‘You have the ability to take people somewhere else. Somewhere they can’t see, but somewhere they can feel. If you don’t know what to do, if nothing comes to you, close your eyes, and think of something that makes you happy. Think of your mum and Gaga.’
‘Okay,’ she says, so quietly, he feels her breath on his cheek.
He breathes her in. ‘You look beautiful.’
She smiles.
He moves away quickly, head down, eyes down, Bo and Rachel’s eyes on him.
‘You ready?’ Bianca asks, the alarm still in her eyes. The message being: you better be.
‘Yes,’ Laura says.
‘Cool.’ She lifts her walkie-talkie to her mouth. ‘Lyrebird on the move.’
Laura stands on the stage, the audience’s welcoming applause dies down and it’s silent.
‘Hello there,’ Jack says from his throne, subtly looking her up and down, and not so subtly liking what he sees.
‘Hello,’ Laura says into the microphone. Solomon couldn’t be more proud, Rachel is biting down on her nails. Jack has been generous with their access so far, but they can’t film while the show is airing live, they will have to get their footage from the show.
‘What’s your name, tell us about yourself.’
‘I’m … Lau … Lyrebird,’ she corrects herself, ‘I’m twenty-six and I’m from Gougane Barra in Cork.’
There’s a cheer from a section of the audience.
Jack big-ups the people from Cork in the house. He likes Lyrebird, you can tell. He is wearing his charming face.
‘And tell me, what are you going to do for us tonight?’
Laura is silent. ‘I’m not sure yet.’
The audience laugh. Laura doesn’t. Jack does.
‘Okay, good answer. Well, I hope you decide soon, your two minutes is about to start. Good luck, Lyrebird.’
The studio spotlights turn red and the entire stage is plunged into a blood-red light. The timer on the screen ticks down ten seconds. Then it goes green and Laura’s two minutes begin.
For the first ten seconds she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t utter one single sound. She’s looking around, almost in shock, stunned, taking everything in. Ten seconds of silence on live TV is a long time. The audience start to turn on her, they start to titter.
Someone shouts, a male voice, deep and a heavy Dublin accent. ‘Come on, Lyrebird!’