The Lion Tamer Who Lost

by Louise Beech

  ‘Okay.’ Will drops his tab end in the sink. Faraway, the lawnmower stops. ‘So you haven’t spoken to Ben since he left?’

  Andrew shakes his head and goes to the open door. The light there softens his shadows.

  ‘How come?’ asks Will. ‘Isn’t he glad you’re brothers? I mean you’re such good mates and all.’

  Andrew steps over the threshold. ‘I think maybe it was all too much for him,’ he says.

  ‘Come back sometime if you want, lad,’ Will calls after him.

  Andrew turns. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll take you to the pub.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to be rude that Sunday,’ says Will. ‘I got my opinions, I know that, but I’m just a brusque old so-and-so. I can accept what you are. You know … being a shirt-lifter and that.’

  Andrew smiles. Will sees his eyes are teary.

  And then he is gone.

  Later, in the afternoon, Will goes upstairs and puts clean sheets on the bed.

  He thinks of Anne.

  Her sheets were fresh; covered in daisies like a meadow and yet smelling of talcum powder. She apologised for the pile of clothes by the bed end and he thought only of taking hers off, of undoing her crisp care-assistant’s smock and seeing for the first time a woman who wasn’t his mother or aunt.

  But she undressed herself; not like a stripper, not teasing but shy, back turned, still crying.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he whispered, aroused by the salty flow.

  Will sits now on the corner of his urine-soaked mattress. Anne is one of the few pure memories that’s stuck. One of the rare good memories that’s clear. Even though their union has influenced every woman he has chosen since, he hasn’t thought of her in so long. But Anne has shone in Heidi’s waved hair, in Kimberley’s sadness, in the tears of every female since.

  He had dared to touch Anne’s cheek when their cigarette lay dying in muddy water by the care-home garage; she had gasped as though cut and put her hand over his and kissed him. At the thought of that first touching of tongues, desire uncoils in Will’s groin. On a filthy bed, aroused and miserable, he weeps.

  Why didn’t he go back to Anne?

  She gave him her number afterwards. Didn’t his mother wash his trousers with that scrap of paper in the pocket? Hadn’t he wanted to go back to the care home and explain that that was why he hadn’t called? Walked past hoping to see her? Maybe.

  He isn’t sure.

  Can’t remember.

  Into sleep Will drifts; into dreams; into Anne’s bed again.

  Don’t cry, he whispers, burying his face in those thick ringlets while fingers hungrily explore her. I can’t not, she says. Anne lets him clumsily move between her legs, as eager as he is afraid. She holds his face as he does. Hers is still wet with tears. She says over and over, Don’t forget me, don’t forget me. Will promises he never will.

  They made a son.

  They created Andrew.

  After all these years, it isn’t over. Anne is still with him, through Andrew. And he is maybe here for a reason.

  But why? And why now?

  Will wakes to evening’s yellow light, knowing he must bring the family together. He must get them together, under this roof, and assure them that things will change. He will change. He has done wrong, but he can put it right. His actions forty years ago have brought them all here and can unite them. His response to Anne’s weeping has flooded the future of his own children. Ben. Mike. Lost Molly.

  And Andrew.

  PART EIGHT

  BEN

  43

  ENGLAND

  Putting the Numbers in the Right Squares

  Ben liked that his grandma found only seven candles for his tenth birthday cake. ‘Make a wish,’ she said. ‘But don’t tell anyone.’ His grandma insisted then it wouldn’t come true; Ben argued that it was more likely to if he put it in the hearts and minds of as many people as possible.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  The evening light dies.

  Ben looks through the back door at his dad. Nothing has changed. It is as though he never left. If he didn’t have luggage and aching knees from hours on the coach, Ben would feel like he’d just been to the shop for milk. Will stands by the table, studying the sudoku puzzle, cigarette in hand.

  Ben watches for what feels like minutes before going in. Will doesn’t turn straight away; Ben thinks he senses it’s him. Who else would it be? Mike probably hasn’t come by. Kimberley likely stays away now, too. Ben’s eyes are drawn to the sudoku puzzle. One of the numbers is wrong.

  Will puts the newspaper down.

  ‘You’ve got an extra nine,’ says Ben.

  Will turns, seems surprised. ‘Oh. I thought…’ The words die.

  ‘Expecting someone?’ Ben dumps his holdall on the floor.

  ‘No. Yes. Maybe.’ He pauses. ‘You’re home.’

  ‘Stating the bloody obvious, Dad.’

  ‘You never said. I’d have … well, got ready for you. I’d have got some shopping. Got nowt in really.’ Will goes to the cupboards, opens them, showing bare shelves.

  ‘You must have teabags?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Make us one then.’

  Will switches the kettle on. ‘I’m dead glad you’re here, lad.’ He hardly looks Ben in the eye. ‘I am … Bit surprised, mind. Did you fly in today? Did you get my letter?’

  Ben nods.

  ‘Was it good? You like the place?’

  ‘Yeah, loved it.’

  ‘Great. Was it hot?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  Will nods. The water in the kettle bubbles. ‘I understand,’ he says and finally looks at Ben.

  ‘Understand what?’ Ben is confused.

  ‘Why you left England. I mean, I knew it was because of me. My behaviour. Kim. The rest of it. I was an arsehole.’ Will rummages in the drawers, and failing to find what he wants, goes into the pockets of his coat hanging by the door. ‘But I know everything else, too.’

  Everything else?

  ‘I don’t…’ Ben frowns.

  ‘Andrew was here,’ says Will.

  ‘What?’

  Ben’s legs give, and he collapses into a chair at the table. The newspaper falls, scattering pages at his feet. In the black-and-white images, he sees moments he and Andrew shared: the kisses, the fights, the yes and no.

  ‘I know,’ says Will.

  ‘What do you know?’ Ben can hardly get the words out.

  Will makes tea in the old brown pot and puts the lid on with a soft clink.

  ‘Don’t look so worried. It’s fine. I had to get my head around it, too. I’ve only had a few hours to think, but trust me it’s all I’ve done, lad. It’s not s––’

  ‘A few hours? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Andrew was here this morning.’

  ‘This morning?’

  Once again, their paths almost crossed.

  Will nods. He pours tea into the mugs and adds milk.

  ‘I was pretty gobsmacked. Thought it was gonna be you, which is ironic now. Then I thought maybe something had happened to you and he was here to tell me. God, it was all going through me head. I had him standing on the step for ages. And then he came in. He told me. Now I’m just surprised he waited so long to come.’ He hands Ben a mug. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, lad?’

  Ben can’t believe his father is okay. How much does he know? What exactly did Andrew tell him? Why did he come? Andrew. Andrew was here.

  Ben can’t speak.

  So, Will does: ‘I suppose I know why,’ he says, standing at the sink with his mug and another cigarette found in his shirt pocket. ‘You saw that moment as another indiscretion of mine. But it wasn’t. Not this one. I was a young lad and she was my first. But I’ve never forgotten her.’ He sighs. ‘I still can’t believe we made a child … and that he ends up being your mate all these years later. What kind of bloody coincidence is that? I guess that’s why you two had
lots in common. Genes can be a weird thing.’

  Ben sits up. Did Will call Andrew his mate? Is he unable to say another word?

  ‘So, he just told you about Anne?’

  ‘Yes. And the test.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Ben tries to remember to breathe.

  ‘Just that he has no family and you offered.’ Will puts out his cigarette. ‘I did think it was odd you’d offer to do such a thing for a mate, but with hindsight, maybe that connection was there. That DNA link. Somehow you sensed it? Wanted to make sure he got better. Must’ve been awful seeing him ill. And then you found out. He said it seemed to be all too much for you and you left for Zimbabwe.’

  ‘That’s all he said?’

  ‘Yes. Not much more, lad.’

  Ben exhales slowly. So, Andrew mentioned nothing about their relationship. Will is still in the dark about Ben’s sexuality. But he knows they are brothers, that he has another son.

  ‘How do you feel about it all?’ asks Ben.

  ‘Still shocked. But not unhappy. No, quite chuffed.’

  ‘Even though he’s gay?’

  ‘Ah, I know I was a bugger that Sunday to him. But I’m not bothered about him being bent really.’

  ‘Don’t say it like that! Not bothered? You were fucking awful to him. Fucking awful. And what about Uncle Jerry? You never spoke to him again when you found out he was gay. And then the poor man killed himself! How bad you must have made him feel!’

  ‘What?’ Will shakes his head. ‘What the hell are you talking about, lad? Uncle Jerry was a bastard for stealing from our mother, but I didn’t care that he was gay. I know that anyone can rob off you, doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight or one of those multi-sexuals. Yeah, we ribbed him like hell as kids, cos you did that back then. It was our way. But that’s not why I never spoke to him all them years. Took thousands from our mam he did.’ Will pauses and then adds, ‘And I was devastated when he died … That’s why I can’t … don’t often talk about him…’

  ‘Oh.’ Ben’s head hurts. All this new information.

  ‘Is that what you thought?’ It seems to tickle Will; he laughs heartily.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ snaps Ben. ‘You’re a fucking bigot. You know you are! You’re always judging things and making people feel small!’

  Will studies him. ‘You’re right. What can I say? Sorry. I’ve always been that way. I guess I … I tear apart what I don’t understand. But in truth, I couldn’t care less who shags who.’

  Ben suddenly wants to cry. His dad would never have cared after all. But this is instantly followed by the realisation that, had he come out sooner, and announced Andrew as his partner, then he could never have come to the house and met his long-absent father without shame and humiliation. Somehow, Ben’s ill-judged understanding of Jerry’s banishment means things might be okay now for them all.

  ‘Look, lad,’ says his dad. ‘It’s been a funny old day. Andrew comes, then you. And I’m glad. About both. His news was a shock, yes, but it already feels … well, normal.’ He pauses. ‘You must be dead tired. Long trip, eh? How was the sanctuary place? Everything you hoped?’

  ‘Yeah, good.’

  It seems so far away already. So unreal. Like it never happened. How quickly this life grips Ben, floods his senses. What did his hut smell like? The air? The grass enclosures? All he can smell now is the old frying pan and cigarettes. What will Lucy be doing now? He remembers her injury. The horrific gash on her leg. He bought a new phone before getting on the coach. He should message Stig to find out how she is. Soon. He can’t think straight yet.

  Outside, the sun is almost gone; the garden is shrouded in shadow. Will switches the light on.

  ‘Guess you can tell me tomorrow?’ he says.

  Ben shrugs, takes the new phone from his rucksack.

  ‘Are you back for good then?’ asks Will.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What brought you home now?’

  For the first time since stepping into the house Ben remembers Esther. The baby. He sent her his new mobile number on the coach but hasn’t heard from her yet. She seems like a distant dream already. Andrew has filled his head again. Esther deserves better than a liar like him. But it’s late now; he is exhausted. He hasn’t the energy to tell his dad everything that happened in Zimbabwe now.

  ‘Another time,’ he says.

  ‘Will you stay here – or at Andrew’s place again?’

  ‘I’ll stay tonight, for now.’

  ‘I’ll have to make your bed up.’ Will collects the mugs, puts them in the sink. ‘And your room might be a bit dusty. Breakfast’ll have to just be tea cos the shop’s shut now.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ben picks up his holdall to go upstairs.

  ‘You wanna talk some more?’ asks Will. ‘Guess we’ve lots to discuss.’

  ‘Not yet. I need a shower.’ He heads for the stairs.

  ‘He didn’t look well,’ says Will.

  ‘Who?’ asks Ben, not thinking.

  ‘Andrew.’

  Ben stops. Lets his bag drop. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was thin,’ says Will. ‘Very pale. Tired looking.’

  ‘Maybe he was low? Needed Coke?’ Ben’s instinct to make sure he’s okay floods back.

  ‘No, I remembered about the diabetes and asked him. Said it wasn’t that.’

  ‘So, what was it?’ Ben’s voice is shrill.

  ‘I don’t know. It didn’t feel like the moment to ask. I was taking everything else in remember. He was ill last year though, wasn’t he? Cancer…’

  Maybe Ben’s stem-cell donation didn’t work? Maybe Andrew still has cancer? How could he not have known? Felt it? How could he have not tried even harder to find out? But Andrew ignored all his calls before he left England. Was that why?

  ‘I should go now, see how he is.’

  ‘Ben, it’s late. I bet he’s asleep. He looked so tired. Wait till morning. You can’t do anything now. You’ve been travelling all day.’

  ‘What if the cancer is worse?’

  ‘Well, you won’t help him if you go and wake him, will you?’ ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Get some sleep yourself and go tomorrow. Bet he’ll be glad to see you.’

  How little Will understands. Ben wants to say that he doubts Andrew will welcome him, that he never said goodbye when he left for Africa. But he came by today. Did he hope Ben would be here, too? Did he want to see him? Ben loves him enough to be able to be a brother to him now, but Andrew doesn’t know that.

  Everything is different now.

  ‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ says Ben. He pauses. ‘Did Andrew ask where I was?’

  ‘No, he seemed to know you wouldn’t be here.’ Then Will adds, ‘He looked for you though.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was looking around. As though imagining you here. It reminded me…’

  ‘Of what?’ asks Ben.

  ‘Of how you’d look for Mike when you were little. First thing you’d look for when you came home from school, or anywhere.’ Will sits on the stained sofa. ‘Weird that Mike isn’t the oldest now. He’s a middle brother. Should you tell him? Or should I?’

  Ben almost says that he doubts Mike will listen to Will but stops himself. He hasn’t the heart to be cruel. He isn’t angry at his dad anymore. Perhaps, in a curious twist of events, this genetic link could be the thing that unites the family. Perhaps Mike will also be able to forgive their dad.

  ‘Maybe I should tell him,’ says Ben.

  The phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, clicks the message open. Esther, asking if he got home okay, saying she misses him already. He’ll respond later when he can think what to say.

  ‘You see many lions then?’ asks Will.

  ‘One or two.’ Ben thinks of Lucy, her injury.

  ‘Are they scary buggers?’

  ‘Not really.’ Ben feels lightheaded suddenly.

  ‘Shall I order a takeaway while you shower?’ asks Will.

&n
bsp; ‘Okay.’

  ‘And we can chat some more.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Ben climbs the stairs and goes to his room. Aside from the bed having been stripped, it hasn’t changed. He sits on the mattress. Closes his eyes. Remembers afternoons spent there with Andrew. Pushes the images away. That is not who they are now. Tomorrow he will go there, and hopefully Andrew will see him.

  Ben takes The Lion Tamer Who Lost from his bag and turns to his letter at the back. He reads again the words: I’ve thought a lot about maybe telling Dad the truth about us. Telling him he’s got another son. Andrew got there first. Even with distance, their thoughts are linked. And now it is out. They can be brothers. Andrew’s wish will finally come true, how it always should have done.

  Ben responds to Esther’s text.

  I’m home, I miss you too, I’ll call tomorrow. X

  He suddenly pictures Lucy disappearing into the darkness without looking back. He sends a message to Stig, asking after her.

  If she’s okay, he thinks, then everything will be okay.

  After Ben finishes showering, Will calls up to say that the food has arrived.

  Downstairs he finds his dad opening the containers. ‘I got chicken curry and some prawn toast,’ he says. ‘Chips and rice, too. Come on, tuck in, lad.’ He pauses, chip in hand. ‘I’m Andrew’s father, I know that, but I really don’t think I’m Lola’s … No, listen. Don’t say anything. You get a feeling about such things. When Andrew told me, it made sense. With hindsight, I felt I knew him that Sunday he came for lunch. But Lola. Trust me. She’s not mine.’

  ‘Mike may want a test, to prove it,’ says Ben.

  ‘I’d do it,’ says Will. ‘That’s how sure I am.’

  ‘Even if you’re not, he may never forgive you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And when he finds out about Andrew, that might add to everything.’

  Will nods. ‘I’ll take what comes.’

  ‘I’ll try and talk to him,’ says Ben.

  They eat at the kitchen table, the newspaper between them. Without speaking they solve the sudoku. Will still has the blue pencil he’s always used for puzzles; it’s just a stub now. Ben realises that he and his dad might never put all the numbers in the right squares like that, but they are in a better place. Theirs will always be a relationship where they’ll force the numbers to fit. It will go wrong at times.