is a fee, but it’s small. I have the terms here.’
Bo takes a page from her folder and hands it to her.
Laura looks at the page blankly.
‘I’ll leave this with you, for you to decide.’
Bo looks at the piece of paper, wondering if she should explain it any further, or if doing so would seem patronising. With Solomon standing behind her shoulder, judging her, maybe not deliberately but she feels the judgement, this cold air that comes from him when she does or says something. She does appreciate that he has a better way with negotiating certain situations but she also wants the freedom to be able to act as she deems appropriate, without fearing or dreading the feedback, the sensing the disapproval and disappointment. Of always letting him down. Of having to check herself. She doesn’t want any more cold air between them, but mostly she doesn’t like to have to second-guess herself at a job that she knows she’s more than capable of doing. In ways, it was easier when their relationship was platonic. She cared more about what he thought, rather than what he thinks of her.
She’s sitting on the edge of her chair, too much in Laura’s space. She pushes herself back and tries to appear relaxed, waits for a positive answer.
Laura is watching the first few minutes of video of her father and uncle on the iPad.
‘I don’t think that I’d like people to know about me,’ Laura says, and Solomon is surprised by his relief.
He would never consider their documentaries exploitive, but he’s proud of Laura for sticking to what feels right to her, not being swayed by attention and fame as so many people are. Rarely does Bo have to convince anybody to say anything on camera, she dangles a camera in front of them and they jump to attention, ready for their five minutes of fame. He likes that Laura is different. She’s normal. She’s a normal person who appreciates her anonymity, who values privacy. That, and something else.
‘You don’t have to share anything with us that you don’t want,’ Bo says. ‘Joe and Tom allowed us to follow them and see how they lived and communicated with each other but I don’t think they felt we crossed any boundaries. We had a very well understood agreement, that as soon as they felt uncomfortable, we’d stop filming.’
Like this morning, in Joe’s kitchen. It made Bo feel unwell, as though she’d had a falling out with a friend.
Laura looks relieved. ‘I like to be by myself. I don’t want –’ she looks at the iPad, and newspaper articles and magazine reviews on the table, ‘I don’t want all of that.’
She pulls the sleeves of her cardigan over her wrists and scrunches them between her fingers, and hugs herself, as if she’s cold.
‘Understood,’ Solomon says, and looks at Bo, an air of finality to it. ‘We respect your decision. But before we go, we brought you some things.’
Solomon carries the shopping bags over to her and places them on the floor beside her. He’d probably gone overboard but he didn’t want her to be left with nothing, especially if Bridget sides with Joe and doesn’t continue to provide for Laura. He’d run across to the local tourist shop, bought as many blankets, T-shirts, jumpers as he could. He couldn’t imagine how cold it got in here, wind whistling through the holes in the walls, the old windows, while bats are flying metres from her door.
Bo hadn’t commented on his purchases. She’d stayed in the car checking emails, while he’d filled the boot with shopping bags. It’s only now that Bo looks at the amount he places down, takes them in, and looks at him in surprise. He’s embarrassed but she’s impressed by his effort. In Bo’s opinion, it could go a long way to convincing Laura to work with them.
‘I thought it could get very cold up here,’ Solomon explains, awkwardly, faffing his hands over the tops of the bags and muttering about their contents.
Bo smiles, trying to hold in her laugh at her boyfriend’s discomfort.
‘Thank you so much for all of these things,’ Laura says, peering in the bags, then addressing Solomon. ‘It’s far too much. I don’t think I could eat all of this on my own.’
‘Well, there’s three people here who’d love to help you,’ Bo jokes casually, still pushing, always pushing.
‘I’ll have to give them all back to you,’ she says to Solomon and then to Bo. ‘I can’t do your documentary.’
‘They’re for you,’ Solomon says firmly, ‘whether you do it or not.’
‘Yes, yes, keep them,’ Bo says, distracted.
While Solomon is getting ready to leave, doing the thing where he doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to be seen as being rude, in the way, Bo prepares. That part of it never bothers Bo, it’s a momentary awkwardness in an overall larger picture. Bo feels it in her gut that she can’t let Laura go. She’s a fascinating, beautiful, interesting, ferociously intriguing girl, none of which she has seen the likes of before. Not only has she a personal life that is ripe for storytelling but a unique characteristic which is visually splendid. The girl is perfect. While Solomon says his goodbye to Laura, Bo lags behind, taking her time tidying her paperwork up. Placing the newspaper photocopies in a neat pile, running through her head what she can say next.
‘You go ahead, Sol, I’ll be out in a minute,’ Bo says, placing her folder in her bag, slowly.
Solomon leaves, and closes the door behind him.
Dark disapproving boyfriend gone.
Bo looks up at Laura and the girl looks so forlorn, as though she’s about to start crying.
‘What’s wrong?’ Bo asks, surprised.
‘Nothing, I … nothing,’ she says, a little breathlessly. She stands up and moves across the room, to her kitchenette. She pours herself a cup of water and drinks it down in one.
She’s a peculiar girl. Bo wants to know everything about her. She wants to see the world from her eyes, walk in her shoes, she needs Laura to say yes. She cannot lose her. Bo knows that she is passionate about her work, that it borders on obsessed, but that’s what it takes for her to fully understand her subject. She has to absorb herself in his or her life, she wants to do that. Bo was searching for something new after The Toolin Twins, and here it is, the natural birth of a new story has quite literally emerged from the first story. It’s perfect, it’s right, it has potential to be even better than The Toolin Twins. It’s Bo’s job to make other people see what she sees, to feel what she feels. She must make Laura see that.
‘Laura,’ she says gently. ‘I respect your decision not to take part, but I want to make sure you are seeing the whole picture. I want to help you think this through. This week has obviously been a big week for you, a time of huge change in your life, with the passing of your dad.’
Laura looks down, her long eyelashes brush her cheekbones. Bo notes the reaction when she refers to Tom as her dad, to Joe as her uncle, she needs to be careful when using it. They’re not terms Laura is comfortable with and she wants to know why. Why, why, why! It seems that this girl is built entirely on secrets; created on one, born on one, reared on one, exists on one. Bo wants to break the chain.
‘It’s a new beginning for you. Your life is moving on. There is uncertainty as to whether Joe will allow you to live here, and if
