In the days that follow, occasionally Laura suggests to Bo that they go out, but Bo is keen to keep her out of the public eye, becomes like a paranoid minder when they’re in the open, looking over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at couples raising their phones for photos, or scowls at people sending texts because she thinks they’re taking photographs. She’s uptight, and Laura’s not sure who Bo’s protecting: her documentary or Laura. A few times a day Bo turns on the camera and tries to gain insight into how Laura is feeling about everything, but Laura hasn’t experienced this new, changed life of hers – how could she when she’s been stuck in the apartment day after day. All she knows of her supposedly changed life is what Bo reads to her – the messages on social media, the articles in the newspaper. It’s all just other people’s words.
They go for walks along the River Liffey where it’s quiet, and on the third night Bo concedes more than accepts Laura’s invitation to see the musical in the theatre across the road from the apartment, the one that Laura has been watching people spilling out of with beaming smiles since she arrived. But when Laura unknowingly makes sounds during the show, which leads to a heated discussion between a member of security and Bo, Bo quickly ushers Laura out before the interval.
‘I’m sorry,’ Laura says, pulling her cardigan around her shoulders as the evening breeze hits her. They return to the apartment, Laura feeling like a scolded child.
‘It’s fine,’ Bo says, the stress in her voice saying otherwise. ‘Do you want to get some sushi?’ she asks, looking at the restaurant near their apartment. Laura would love some, but she can tell from Bo’s tone that she’s had enough for the evening.
‘No, it’s okay.’ Laura’s stomach rumbles. Or maybe it’s not her stomach that makes the sound. ‘I’ll get an early night.’ Again. She’s sure that Bo will take her laptop into her bedroom for the evening. She spends all of her time in there since Solomon has been away, as though she can’t stand being alone with Laura.
Bo looks relieved.
Once inside the apartment, Bo does exactly as Laura expected.
‘Good night,’ Bo says, and closes her bedroom door softly.
Laura goes out onto the balcony and watches the world going by.
Five days after Laura’s audition, Lyrebird’s online viewings have reached one hundred million. The media can’t get enough of her. They are hungry for more information about this mysterious person who has caught the world’s interest. The tabloid headlines scream GONE VIRAL BIRD.
Bo’s self-imposed captivity in the apartment ends when StarrGaze Entertainment steps in. They set up base for Laura at the Slaughter House, and for two straight days she does short interviews with the media who have flocked to speak with her, with fans who film her and give her messages, gifts, words of support.
Can she describe herself in five words?
Does she have a boyfriend?
Would she like to have children?
What does she think about the gender pay gap?
If she could be a food, what type of food would she be?
What’s her favourite film?
What are the top ten songs on her playlist?
Twitter or Instagram?
If she were stranded on a desert island, what would be the one book she would bring?
What inspires her?
What are her favourite sounds?
Who are her favourite impersonators?
What are her views on the American presidential race?
Does she have any advice for young women?
What’s the best advice anyone has ever given her?
What is the one question she’s never been asked but would like to be asked?
While Laura is holed up for two days in the press office of the Slaughter House, with Bianca by her side, Bo and Jack begin to argue.
She hears them while sitting on the toilet lid between interviews, with her eyes closed and her legs tucked close to her body, anything to escape Bianca’s constant tapping on her phone. She hears the buttons in her head, they roll together, getting faster and faster, like a ticking time bomb.
‘Hello?’ Somebody knocks on her door, and she realises she’s been making the sound. She quietens.
‘Jack,’ Bo says suddenly, loud and angry, which makes Laura’s eyes fly open. Bo’s voice drifts through the bathroom vent.
‘Bo,’ he says playfully, ‘Good of you to visit me. As if your emails weren’t enough over the past two days, it’s nice to be abused in person.’
‘Jack, keeping Lyrebird here for the past two days is one thing, but your crew cannot take her to Cork.’
A door slams. There’s a pause.
‘Of course we can. We need stock footage for the press and the show. It’s the best way, unless you want Lyrebird going to Cork with every single member of the press who asks for an interview? No, I didn’t think so. This is the best way of handling it.’
‘But I already have that footage. It’s exclusive to my documentary. In fact, for the past two days I have not even been able to proceed with that documentary because you’ve had full media control of Lyrebird.’
‘That’s because she’s part of the show, Bo!’ he says, exasperated. ‘This isn’t a trick. She signed a contract that said she would take part in promotional duties. You knew that, you read it.’
‘It didn’t say that I couldn’t be involved,’ she fumes.
‘Come on, babe, you’re the only person we’ve allowed filming access to Laura. You’re getting all the behind-the-scenes stuff that everybody is begging for. Curt is already breaking my balls for allowing that – how much more do you want from me?’
‘I am not your babe. Curt is not the director of StarrGaze Entertainment, you are. So grow a pair of fucking balls.’
There’s a silence.