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Lyrebird: Beautiful, moving and uplifting: the perfect holiday read
Cecelia Ahern
The Sunday Times bestseller‘An emotional love story with great heart’ Sunday ExpressFollowing the death of her father, Laura Button’s secret life in remote West Cork is uncovered. When he meets her, deep in the forest that surrounds her home, Solomon Fallon feels an instant connection to a unique young woman.Nicknamed Lyrebird for her voice, and talent, Laura needs to leave her remote cottage and find a new life. But Solomon’s fear is that the world won’t set Lyrebird free. Instead, it will put her in a cage.The story that unfolds is one of a quite extraordinary love.
Copyright (#ud08f68fc-7a60-5cc7-b87a-6c70946ca5e7)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
This edition published 2017
Copyright © Cecelia Ahern 2016
Jacket design by Heike Schüssler © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Feather illustration based on Simon Cotter’s photograph
Cover images © Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (leaves)
Cecelia Ahern asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007501892
Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780007501885
Version: 2017-10-18
Dedication (#ud08f68fc-7a60-5cc7-b87a-6c70946ca5e7)
For Paula Pea
It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent. It is one that is most responsive to change.
Attributed to Charles Darwin
Table of Contents
Cover (#u2e3ab5a8-9c97-5016-9d71-cf3facc60c8c)
Title Page (#udbd3dee8-d4fa-5121-a98a-4ac6c45d2d8a)
Copyright (#u4c1c2f03-5782-5360-8d0b-8db2e50e8d78)
Dedication (#u98db4022-2d40-5a91-88c1-87cfce2986ce)
Epigraph (#u17e60d67-eabb-5d0e-8a28-a9520f9b852a)
Prologue (#u614d39fa-260f-5123-af3b-3995352e504b)
Part 1 (#uf61bb0f1-1cce-52c4-80f6-d34ac1eecd8e)
Chapter 1 (#uda7e7523-965b-5846-bc9c-9b7f2d8324f5)
Chapter 2 (#u09c63612-765e-5eb5-825b-c8d5128256f8)
Chapter 3 (#u08833427-e5a4-5ea8-a1d2-2ab0abb32c7c)
Chapter 4 (#uc2598212-0030-53ed-966c-8818fa5b43c8)
Chapter 5 (#u7294ab84-df07-5b58-83b5-c5b36b409b16)
Chapter 6 (#u9a236c82-cde6-5dda-a166-19e01ed4f48e)
Chapter 7 (#u916631fa-23c8-58e4-9d31-43c81f6a53f9)
Chapter 8 (#u5e90d07d-2e89-5b2f-a65c-79ba86b00f0d)
Chapter 9 (#u63c64e11-8608-50a3-bca5-2ae3c66a3097)
Chapter 10 (#u37a96864-cd31-5b80-91d1-6775bc6e4b70)
Chapter 11 (#ued4e5fc4-b1ac-5f7b-8cd8-ac9271abd38d)
Chapter 12 (#u0c490382-2d1d-5b85-b387-78b2b00a121c)
Chapter 13 (#u490cf21d-e367-58d3-9d15-c3ddca3b0fe6)
Chapter 14 (#u3b60c32b-2d2e-5adf-a1c0-12b032174e07)
Chapter 15 (#u8ee3ecf9-5610-51af-a672-b4269968c443)
Chapter 16 (#u00abbba9-1c97-557b-a1ca-fa45c08407e9)
Chapter 17 (#u8155e60f-2b16-5bd7-af2b-51af745a3864)
Chapter 18 (#u0123ae29-f43b-5b5c-9626-5b89c62621ac)
Chapter 19 (#u661c652b-e6ee-5c2e-b158-8e51ce1e44be)
Chapter 20 (#u3b8a3e96-900b-5b35-adab-cb8a08a80381)
Chapter 21 (#u34c3aff2-678e-5cd1-a5a1-b459902fb705)
Chapter 22 (#u0dc17f5d-385b-57ba-970e-e871060367e7)
Chapter 23 (#u2f4a6889-b270-5951-ae1b-ba88a3216b1a)
Part 2 (#ue63c317c-21a1-5366-85f1-1428aab5c7f8)
Chapter 24 (#u25890943-eb8f-5674-9d41-11b299e6a3f1)
Chapter 25 (#u9e262d90-0167-51a4-ac98-cb21d653afb6)
Chapter 26 (#ua47b49e3-d164-59cb-8f2d-2e0b034ad215)
Chapter 27 (#udff3d44a-a500-58a7-b2da-89c48aba5b88)
Chapter 28 (#ue439efda-8f6b-587e-b5ea-b8c92435fbc6)
Chapter 29 (#uf2800c47-0c86-5875-9675-5b3fde777998)
Chapter 30 (#udec27955-f086-58ff-8421-398364b46280)
Chapter 31 (#uda16b3b5-106c-52c5-b33d-0740fa7008be)
Chapter 32 (#u5e2ccf6e-db89-52d4-af03-f74609bf77b7)
Chapter 33 (#ue1f13807-a5b2-549f-94e5-d1cc4d4265e8)
Chapter 34 (#u94eef533-8413-5e12-bc09-0e044e3e3c3a)
Part 3 (#u301f1282-406d-5da4-89f6-61914658c96d)
Chapter 35 (#ub3cff3e8-e9a0-5591-9f03-804b379561a0)
Chapter 36 (#u2f3ba2fb-1811-5d80-94e9-9952d8f9a829)
Chapter 37 (#uf498b72c-163f-5dca-bc37-99178ea8c3aa)
Chapter 38 (#uf3912a3c-85a4-50eb-87b4-e1490875d5c8)
Chapter 39 (#u28b8c414-b1d2-5ce3-9e21-5a603c33bc7b)
Chapter 40 (#u8af6d7f8-d87a-5752-b8d1-1668213fc323)
Chapter 41 (#u569ce59c-122e-5c42-ae43-c759662772ed)
Chapter 42 (#u150c49bc-5598-5217-8b16-626140f98e8b)
Part 4 (#u4468a48b-0c0c-5198-a16d-f2e16e8fb806)
Chapter 43 (#u09db58ca-f691-5d3c-aa66-8c5a2e21a775)
A Summary (#u56d54960-58c2-55e1-a555-159303fac978)
Acknowledgements (#u0e0f9378-973b-5605-a8b2-77cfc8cf6b3c)
Questions & Answers (#u3bf06684-59ee-59e8-8d18-9e66cd0c7037)
Keep Reading … (#u5a2b7000-aa08-52b5-82db-cf545a591066)
About the Author (#uc48e870b-3544-531e-b044-5004b8186127)
Also by Cecelia Ahern (#uc99f53d4-1a5f-56e8-99da-f3c442c7d90c)
About the Publisher (#u1ab7d028-2da5-562f-b176-7fa813992814)
PROLOGUE (#ud08f68fc-7a60-5cc7-b87a-6c70946ca5e7)
He moves away from the others, their constant chat blending into a tedious monotonous sound in his head. He’s not sure if it’s the jet lag or if he’s simply not interested in what’s going on. It could be both. He feels elsewhere, detached. And if he yawns one more time, she’ll have no hesitation in calling him out on it.
They don’t notice him break away from them, or if they do, they don’t comment. He carries his sound equipment with him; he’d never leave it behind – not just because of its value, but because it’s a part of him by now, like another limb. It’s heavy but he’s used to the weight, oddly is comforted by it. He feels a part of him is missing without it, and walks like he’s carrying the audio bag even when he isn’t, his right shoulder dropped to one side. It might mean he’s found his calling as a sound recordist, but his subconscious connection to it does nothing good for his posture.
He walks away from the clearing, away from the bat house, the cause of the conversation, and moves towards the forest. The fresh cool air hits him as he reaches the edge.
It’s a hot June day, the sun beats down on the top of his head and is baking the naked flesh at the back of his neck. The shade is inviting, a group of midges do high-speed set-dancing in paths of sunlight looking like mythical insects. The woodland floor is cushioned and springy beneath his feet with layers of fallen leaves and bark. He can no longer see the group he left behind and he tunes them out, filling his lungs with the scent of refreshing pine.
He places the audio bag down beside him and leans the boom mic against a tree. He stretches, enjoys the cracks of his limbs and flexing of his muscles. He lifts off his sweater, his T-shirt rising up with it, revealing his stomach, then ties it around his waist. He pulls the hair bobbin from his long hair and ties it up tighter in a topknot, enjoying the air on his sticky neck. Four hundred feet above sea-level he looks out over Gougane Barra and sees tree-covered mountains extending as far as the eye can see, not a sign of a neighbour for miles. One hundred and forty-two hectares of national park. It’s peaceful, serene. He has an ear for sound, has acquired it over time and has had to. He’s learned to listen to what you don’t immediately hear. He hears the birds chirping, the rustle and crack of creatures moving all around him, the low hum of a tractor in the distance, building work hidden in the trees. It’s tranquil, but alive. He inhales the fresh air and as he does he hears a twig snap behind him. He whips around quickly.
A figure darts into hiding behind a tree.
‘Hello?’ he calls out, hearing the aggression in his voice at being caught off guard.
The figure doesn’t move.
‘Who’s there?’ he asks.
She peeks out briefly from behind the trunk, then disappears again, like she’s playing a game of hide-and-seek. An odd thing happens. He now knows he’s safe but his heart starts pounding; the reverse of what it should be doing.
He leaves his equipment behind and slowly walks towards her, the crunch and snap of the floor beneath him revealing his every move. He makes sure to keep space between them, making a wide circle around the tree she hides behind. Then she comes into full view. She tenses, as if readying herself for defence, but he holds his hands up in the air, palms flat, as though in surrender.
She would almost be invisible or camouflaged in the forest if it weren’t for her white-blonde hair and green eyes, the most piercing he’s ever seen. He’s completely captivated.
‘Hi,’ he says, softly. He doesn’t want to scare her away. She seems fragile, on the edge of fleeing, perched on her toes, ready to take off at any moment if he takes a wrong step. So he stops moving, feet rooted to the ground, hands up flat, as if he’s holding up the air, or maybe it’s the air that’s holding him up.
She smiles.
