‘A pair of lyrebirds, having mated, select a nesting site. Neither will wander. They’re monogamous creatures, once they’ve chosen; they do not change their mates and matehood involves each mated pair in life companionship.’

Solomon purses his lips to hide the growing smile on his face. He turns briefly to Laura and she’s staring at him, green eyes gazing at him intently.

It’s ten p.m. Early for Bo and Solomon to be in bed, even earlier to have already made love, but with Laura sharing the same tiny living space it’s easier to say good night and for everybody to retreat to their rooms for privacy.

They had made love as silently as possible again, particularly after their experience in the hotel. Solomon seemed distracted, and that was okay; Bo was too, with formulating and planning of the documentary taking shape in her head. Now they both lie on their backs, staring at the ceiling and listening to Laura’s nightly song. Bo enjoys this, she finds it relaxing. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and closes her eyes.

‘She’s going through her day,’ she whispers.

‘That’s the ATM,’ Solomon says, smiling. ‘She came with me while you and Rachel were finishing breakfast. She’d never seen one before.’

Laura beeps through the ATM. Cash is dispensed.

‘I wish she’d dispense real cash,’ Bo jokes. ‘If this documentary ends up being as good as I think it is, she will.’

‘She could probably help decipher people’s codes, by memorising those sounds,’ Solomon says. ‘She could be hired by some secret government agency with skills like that.’

Bo chuckles quietly. ‘Now that I want to film.’ Pause to listen. ‘It’s like she’s flicking through her memories of the day, like I do with the pictures on my phone.’

They listen some more. Relaxed. Calm. Peaceful.

Then they hear Solomon’s laugh. A rare hearty laugh.

‘Is that you?’ She looks at him.

‘Yeah,’ he avoids her stare. ‘Can’t remember what was so funny,’ he lies, remembering as they’d both clung to each other, unable to stop laughing, his stomach hurting, his eyes streaming. While he was getting dressed he thought Laura was cooking bacon, from the sounds coming from the kitchen, the beautiful sound of a sizzling pan, the fat as it popped and hissed. When he stepped out to the living room, Laura was standing alone in front of an empty fridge mimicking the sounds. Laura was hungry. He’d been so confused by the empty hobs, and kitchen table, then so disappointed, she couldn’t stop laughing at the look on his face. When he’d realised what happened he’d joined in with her laughter.

When finished mimicking his laughter, Laura mimics his cough with the hidden word, ‘Lie.’

Solomon cringes.

She contrasts this with the laugh. Back to the lie, then to the laugh. She does this a few times.

‘She’s trying to decide something,’ Bo says, looking at him, her heart racing now that she has understood what Laura is doing. ‘She’s trying to figure you out.’

Laura mimics his laugh again.

‘Sol,’ Bo says, concern in her voice.

‘Mmm?’ He can’t look at her. His heart is pounding in his chest, he hopes Bo can’t feel it next to her, his entire body feels like it’s thudding.

‘Sol.’

Lie. His laugh. Lie. His laugh. Back and forth she goes.

He looks at her. He sits up finally, head in his hands. ‘I know. Fuck.’

19

The following morning Laura is on the balcony, her hands cupped around a mug of tea. She’s making whistling sounds.

‘What’s she doing?’ Solomon asks, fresh out of the shower and joining Bo in the kitchen. He kisses her. He makes it his business to kiss her, no hiding it any more. Last night, he and Bo had decided that it was best he step back from Laura for the time being, try to allow Bo and Laura to bond. He has to work anyway, filming Grotesque Bodies, which requires he travel to Switzerland tomorrow for a few days to film an operation on a man they had been following for a year. And while he and Bo had decided it was healthier for Laura’s sake and the sake of the documentary that he disappear for a while, Solomon knows it’s also better for himself. He’s losing himself, he doesn’t like what he’s becoming, somebody who thinks about another woman when he’s in bed with his own girlfriend. It’s not him. Not who he wants to be. He needs to withdraw from the situation.

‘She’s talking to the bird next door,’ Bo replies. ‘Want scrambled eggs and bacon?’ she asks, placing a plate down in front of him. ‘Laura made them. She keeps asking for things I’ve never heard of. Herbs and things.’

‘You should bring her to the supermarket,’ he says, trying not to look at Laura. ‘She’d like that.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, uncertain of how she’s going to manage the next four days with Laura on her own. She’d almost change her mind about Solomon’s closeness to Laura if it meant he stayed.

Laura chirps on the balcony.

‘What bird next door?’ Solomon asks suddenly, digging in, enjoying the quality of cooking in their home since Laura has arrived.

‘The kid next door has a bird in a cage, a budgie or something. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard it.’

‘What kid?’ he asks.

She laughs and hits him playfully with a tea towel. Then she joins him with an espresso and a grapefruit and keeps her voice low.

‘Do you want to sit with me while I brief her about the audition?’

‘We talked about this last night,’ he says, concentrating on his scrambled eggs, ‘It’s time for you to get to know her better. She needs to start trusting you too.’ Laura made his breakfast, they’re the tastiest scrambled eggs he’s ever eaten. He practically licks the plate. He needs to get out of this apartment fast.

‘Yes, I know, but you really are better at handling her.’

He looks up at her, sees her nervousness. ‘You’ll be fine. Don’t think of it as “briefing” her. Talk to her as you would a friend.’

‘Probably too early for a bottle of wine at eight a.m.,’ she jokes, but her uncertainty is obvious.

He looks at Laura properly for the first time since he sat down. It had taken her a few days after the incident in Galway at the shooting range to come out of her shell again. They’d had fun, he’d enjoyed showing her new things, he’d enjoyed watching her, listening to her, hearing everyday sounds that he had long stopped hearing. The hiss of a bus as it pulled in at a stop, the whistle of the postman, the shutters being lifted on a shop beneath them, the rattle of the keys, a motorbike, the ring of a bicycle bell, high heels against the ground. Her sounds were endless and they flowed from her effortlessly, without her even noticing. Bo’s fears about Laura’s sounds disappearing over the weekend were in vain; if anything, they are more frequent. He’d had fun with Laura. He’d laughed more with her in a few days than he can remember having done in a long time. But then he kept catching himself feeling like that and he’d close up. Laura was right to question his character last night, what was he doing, who was he? One moment he was open with her, the next moment he’d shut down, hot and cold. For Laura’s good, for him and Bo, he’d have to stay away.