The Lion Tamer Who Lost

by Louise Beech

  Glancing one last time into the darkening reserve, Ben walks Esther back to her hut before returning to his. It is the last time he will ever see Lucy. And all Ben can think of is the last time he saw Andrew.

  He understands better now.

  But it still hurts like hell to remember.

  31

  ENGLAND

  Turn

  If you look back, you’ll only bump into everything.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  After the final session of the stem-cell donation, Ben wanted to say something to Andrew that would make him open up.

  But he had run out of words.

  A nurse removed the apheresis machine tubes from Ben and Andrew’s veins. Ben drank plenty of liquids to replace those he had lost, and watched while Andrew ate glucose tablets and biscuits to up his sugar levels.

  Then, together, they left the room.

  Outside, November’s breeze was full of cold promise; the airless warmth of the treatment room had ill-prepared Ben for this sudden new season. In silence, they walked along the main hospital path and then down the street, Ben dreading that different buses beckoned, different routes, different homes.

  A solitary leaf followed them like a butterfly.

  Andrew finally spoke after weeks of silence.

  Ben was delighted and turned to hang on every word.

  ‘You should go to Zimbabwe like you’ve always wanted,’ said Andrew, simply.

  ‘But I don’t want to go without you.’ Ben felt sick. ‘Come with me, please. We can go as friends. Friends travel together … friends could work…’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘Ben, I’m doing this for you. I’ve had to ignore you … or I … I’d have given in.’

  ‘So give in!’

  ‘No. To be with you now only delays the pain. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘No,’ said Ben. ‘No one needs to know.’ He knew he sounded like a child, insisting reality could change, but he still believed they could bury it if they really wanted to.

  ‘I know,’ said Andrew. ‘And how long before it would matter? When we argue? If we want kids? When you want to tell your dad we’re together? He’s my father too.’

  ‘I looked after you,’ said Ben, tears on his face.

  ‘And I’ll never forget it.’

  ‘You won’t be calling me, will you?’ Ben said it like a statement. But he wanted it to be a question. ‘When I get on that bus you’ll never get in touch with me again, will you?’

  Andrew didn’t respond.

  ‘How will I know you got better?’

  ‘You’ll know,’ Andrew said without looking at him.

  Their footsteps were in perfect unison. They always had been. Ben watched their feet. His own trainers with one lace tied differently to the other contrasted Andrew’s boots with zips like uneven teeth. They couldn’t walk out of sync; they never had. Would they still walk the same way if Ben was in Africa, hundreds of miles away?

  Ben lingered by Andrew’s bus stop; his was the next along.

  ‘This can’t be it,’ he said.

  Andrew wouldn’t look at him.

  ‘What harm is a hug?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Then hug me like a brother,’ said Andrew.

  It was an excuse to be near him one more time. An excuse to hear that lion heart beating. Andrew put his arms around Ben, and Ben put his head against Andrew’s chest. Buttons dug into Ben’s body. He snaked his hand under Andrew’s top. He moved his mouth to Andrew’s. But Andrew pulled free.

  ‘This is why we can’t.’ He held his face in despair, the amber flash in his eyes so like Ben’s own. ‘I wanted a brother. But I want you as we were, as lovers. And I can’t have either!’

  ‘You fucking wished for it,’ cried Ben.

  Andrew nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘Sorry. Please don’t go.’

  Andrew’s bus rounded the corner. He turned back to Ben before alighting; Ben felt a flush of momentary hope.

  ‘I hope one day you forgive me.’

  The door hissed shut.

  Ben watched as Andrew found a seat. He didn’t turn to look out the window as the bus departed.

  ‘Turn,’ whispered Ben. ‘Just once.’

  The bus pulled away. Ben walked to keep up with it. Andrew didn’t look.

  ‘Don’t I mean anything to you?’ cried Ben.

  The bus disappeared into the rest of the traffic.

  Ben sat on the curb and cried.

  32

  ZIMBABWE

  Goodbye Lucy

  The mother felt sad; her cub looked sad. Because we all want to stay in the place we’re loved. But love goes with us – it is light and has easy-to-grip handles and needs no passport. The mother knew this secret.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  Just as he did on his first morning in Zimbabwe, Ben stands on the wooden decking in shorts, viewing what he has secretly called his sunrise, his land, his refuge, for six months. It is June. Winter is here and it’s too chilly for shorts at this early hour. But Ben perseveres. It has been his routine to wear them and he doesn’t want to deviate from it on this last day. He missed his sunrise yesterday, but today he was up and waiting long before it rose.

  Today he and Esther go back to England.

  Simon left yesterday, so there’s no hum of snoring to contend with the buzz of insects, no breaking wind. Curiously, Ben misses him. But the moment is his alone; only he witnesses the colours come to life, the sky turning from ash into flame, the trees from shadow into textured browns.

  The skittish split-lipped hare joins him, loitering by a sparse bush. Beyond them both, the sun rises. And behind them, in the grassy enclosures, the lion cubs will play before being freed to live in the wild. Ben is going back to the wild; to England, his wilderness. This place has been a haven.

  He put the few things he brought with him into his bag last night. Then, around the campfire, he and Esther said goodbye to the volunteers they have grown close to. For Esther, it was a weepy affair. She has made many friends and promised to stay in touch, to go and visit people once home, her tears glistening in the light of their final fire. Ben has not been quite so sociable.

  Now, standing on the decking, he remembers England. He lets it all in. He sees Lola being born. Sees his conversation with Andrew about children, before watching him collapse on the kitchen tiles. Sees the room in which he gave him his stem cells. Sees the flat he can still smell. It is one year since they first met in the university library and the memories flood back as he watches the sun, hoping it will lift the chill.

  Soon Esther will be here with her luggage, and then the taxi in an hour, at ten. Then they will leave. He can’t quite believe it. The last six months has felt more like six years.

  But he is ready now.

  He turns and sees Esther approaching. Her cheeks are pink in the chill air and her hair is plaited, though one wisp flies rebelliously free. Ben’s heart sinks; his throat feels tight. He feels cruel at the reaction. So, he buries it and smiles. She is what he has chosen. This is what he has chosen. This is what he will live.

  Esther is not smiling. She looks white.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, genuinely concerned.

  ‘It’s Lucy,’ she says.

  ‘What’s Lucy?’

  ‘Last night … another hunt … later on … after we went to bed…’

  ‘What?’ Ben feels sick.

  ‘She was gored by a male buffalo. Out on the reserve. Stig just told me at breakfast. He’s coming to find you soon … but I wanted to…’

  ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘She should be, yes. Don’t worry they—’

  Esther is interrupted by Stig’s approach.

  ‘What happened?’ cried Ben. ‘Will she be okay? Where is she?’

  ‘She’s recovering in the enclosure.’

  ‘I need to see her.’

  ‘She won’t want you near her wh
en she’s hurt like that. Nor will the other lions. But you can see her through the fence.’

  Ben heads that way. Esther and Stig try and keep up.

  ‘What happened?’ demands Ben.

  ‘She went for a huge buffalo, the feisty girl, and his horn almost ripped her leg off – her lower left flank is severely injured. We called in emergency vets and they tranquilised her and cleaned and sutured the wound. It was pretty successful, only took two hours. Now we’ll just keep an eye on her, make sure it doesn’t get infected.’

  They arrive at the enclosure fence. Lucy is lying by the one tree in the grassy area. An angry red gash joined by black stitches cuts the back of her body in two. Now and again, she roars softly, and licks her wound. Chuma paces nearby.

  ‘See,’ says Esther. ‘She’s okay. She has her brother. This is definitely something he’s good at. Taking care of her.’

  But when Chuma tries to rub heads with his sister, Lucy growls at him, swings a paw at his face. He backs away and views her from a safe distance.

  ‘Shit, poor Lucy.’ Ben feels sick. ‘It looks… Jesus, it looks … How is she even okay?’

  ‘It looks worse than it is. The surgeon did a great job. It looked shocking before he fixed her up, trust me.’

  ‘What does this mean?’ asks Ben. ‘She won’t be able to hunt, will she?’

  ‘Not for a few weeks,’ says Stig.

  ‘What if it puts her off for good? What then?’

  ‘It needn’t.’

  ‘Needn’t?’

  ‘Look, you two are going home today.’ Stig pats Ben heartily on the back. ‘Go and get your breakfast. Let us do what we do here.’

  ‘How can I? How can I go home?’

  ‘Ben,’ says Esther. ‘You couldn’t do anything anyway. You heard Stig – she wouldn’t let you near her right now. Our taxi will be here soon, and we’ve got a long journey ahead of us. You should eat.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘At least let’s get you a cup of mud?’

  Ben shrugs.

  ‘Go on,’ says Stig. ‘I promise we’ll keep you updated with every bit of progress she makes for the rest of the day and once you’re back home.’

  Ben panics. ‘Shit. I don’t have a phone.’

  ‘I do,’ says Esther. ‘Message me, Stig.’

  ‘I’ll get one as soon as we land,’ says Ben, ‘and send you the number.’

  ‘Goodbye then, Chuma.’ Esther goes to the fence. Her young ward doesn’t even acknowledge the farewell.

  Ben realises this is sad for her, too. He puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he whispers.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been a pain in the arse for most of my time here,’ he admits. ‘But you’ve never complained once. You’ve put up with me, with your morning sickness, with all of it.’

  ‘I wasn’t putting up,’ she says. ‘I’ve been happy here. Haven’t you?’

  Ben doesn’t respond.

  ‘This isn’t how I wanted it to end,’ he says eventually.

  He remembers Andrew helping him fill in part of his application form before he came. One line comes to him now: I hope you’ll give me a chance to see my favourite animals, being released into the wild where they belong.

  He has not been able to see that. Lucy is only nine months old, so not ready to leave the enclosure permanently yet.

  And it’s time for him to go.

  33

  ENGLAND

  An Ideal and Restriction-Free Candidate

  Ben joined the school Chess Club and hated the new rules and that Nancy would no longer play their made-up game.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  When he got home from watching Andrew leave on the bus, Ben got out the Liberty Lion Project application form. He had kept it inside the book that Andrew had bought for his birthday. All he had to look forward to now was his dad, his drinking, the burden of secrets, and an empty future.

  Ben read through the segment about why they should consider him, a section Andrew had helped him fill out while he was ill.

  It has been my lifelong wish to see animals run free in their own habitat, something I promised my mum I’d see one day. I would love to be part of a project that helps give them back what we humans have taken away from them – freedom. I’m twenty-three, have no commitments, and hold a full passport. I hope you’ll give me a chance to see my favourite animals, being released into the wild where they belong.

  He and Andrew had argued over the no commitments part. Ben had said he did have a commitment – Andrew. Andrew insisted it was better to appear an ideal and restriction-free candidate. He won.

  And now Ben had no ties at all.

  He sent it that afternoon.

  With frost topping spiky trees like cake icing, St Mary’s Church on Sculcoates Lane wasn’t sufficiently heated for a November baptism-stroke-wedding-blessing. It was two weeks after the stem-cell transfusion; two weeks since Ben had sent off his application form. His brother Mike had been home for a week, and he and Kimberley had grabbed a cancelled slot when it came up.

  Ben wondered if Kimberley’s dress – which was as pink as a guilty face – had been influenced by her fling with Will. Her flushed face seemed to thaw the shivering guests as she trounced down the aisle, and her crimson flowers somehow added warmth to the air too. Mike had said they wanted the day to be one of joyful colour. He wore his with pride; that morning Ben had polished the Afghanistan service medal he had recently earned.

  ‘Now, polish my shoes, lad,’ Mike had joked.

  Ben did it – to avoid looking at his brother, afraid that what he knew would show in his eyes. Looking at his father was just as hard. Ben could hardly be in the same room with him, and now they must unite in celebration.

  They sat side by side in the front pew. Uncle John was on the other side, blowing his nose with gusto, and Aunt Helen next to him, sobbing into a tissue. Jodie Cartwright sat four rows behind with her parents. She had looked Ben up and down on the way in.

  Will had asked that morning the real reason why he hadn’t gone back to university.

  ‘I’m going to Zimbabwe,’ Ben had said, curt.

  ‘I understand, lad, if it’s what you really want.’

  Will had disguised his vodka with fresh orange, but Ben knew.

  ‘You’re not gonna mock it now?’ Ben said, knowing that the fact he was keeping his dad’s secret was what made him kind.

  ‘I never should’ve,’ said Will softly. ‘How come you’ve not been staying at that puff’s house these last weeks?’

  ‘Don’t call him that.’

  He had told his dad he was house-sitting while Andrew was in Spain, that when he returned he’d pay rent and stay in the spare room. Ben realised that subconsciously part of him had hoped his dad would guess what the situation really was. Now he was relieved he had never told him.

  ‘I hope you’re making the right decision.’ Will’s words were not harsh. ‘Think I’d rather you went to bloody Africa than live with some rent boy.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Dad.’

  Ben wanted to say, Do you realise who you’re talking about? He wanted to grab him by the throat. Scream that he had ruined his only relationship. He looked at his dad’s hands around his mug. Those fucking hands, he thought. Not just who they had touched, but the actual hands. The fat arch near the thumb. Like Ben’s. Like Andrew’s.

  Now the priest blessed Kimberley and Mike, and called the godparents to the altar. Because of Mike’s pleas, Ben had reluctantly agreed to be godfather. Lola wailed at the water blessing. Ben held a candle; it fluttered in the draught.

  ‘That’s that done,’ said Will afterwards.

  ‘Another tot safe from the devil,’ said Uncle John.

  ‘Too late for us,’ said Will.

  Ben stumbled for a moment as they walked outside, had to gulp so he would not sob.

  By the gravestones, Jodie joined him.

  ‘Like my ha
ir?’ It had been teased as stiff as cocktail sticks. ‘I shouldn’t talk to you after you dumped me that day, but I don’t hold grudges. Wanna ride with me to the party?’

  ‘I promised I’d look after the baby while they go in the wedding car.’ Ben was glad of this obligation. ‘I’ll see you there,’ he added.

  ‘Something’s different about you.’ Jodie squinted at Ben. ‘In a good way.’

  I’ll never be the same again, thought Ben.

  She smiled. ‘Still single?’

  Not only single, but apparently an ideal and restriction-free candidate.

  ‘See you later, Ben.’ She winked and was gone.

  In a sports-centre function room, the party commenced. Scuffed tables camouflaged with cloths and made pretty by lilies and heart-weighted balloons offered hot and cold buffet food. After an hour or so, with half-eaten food and empty cups cluttering the tables, Kimberley and Mike enjoyed their first dance. Then mismatched couples took to the floor, shuffling and swaying to the Take That tribute band.

  Ben sat with Uncle John and Aunt Helen and watched. He hated dancing; his feet were clumsy. By the speaker a girl danced on her father’s feet, giggling when he tried to jump.

  Ben would never let anyone dance on his feet again.

  ‘Don’t you fancy that Jodie lass?’ asked Uncle John. ‘I’d have snapped her up in my day, lad … Your dad’s having a good time as usual.’

  Will had his arm around Mrs Cartwright, while her husband glared. Lola slept in a buggy, oblivious to the question mark hovering over her head. Kimberley threw her bouquet. Ben drank beer to forget Andrew’s face.

  Jodie came over and put the bouquet between her and Ben on the seat, like a peace offering.

  ‘Did you manage to get the blood out?’ she asked.

  ‘The blood?’

  ‘Your T-shirt was covered in it last time.’

  ‘I threw it away.’

  Ben thought of the cheap one he and Andrew had bought; how the sales guy had stared at his naked chest. Andrew had tugged on the sleeve to straighten it after Ben slipped the T-shirt over his head. It was first time he had touched him; he could still feel it now.