The Lion Tamer Who Lost

by Louise Beech

  I hope this letter never reaches you, that in years to come I ask Mrs Hardy to give it back to me. I hope I can one day tell Will who I am – perhaps with you by my side. I hope I can meet Mike. Are these hopes wishes? No. I only have one wish left to make, and that’s in the Wish Box. That belongs there whether I give it to you myself or whether you receive this parcel. And if I’m not here anymore, I want this wish even more.

  Andrew

  Ben presses the letter to his chest, as though to permanently imprint the words there. He guesses Andrew must have written it a few weeks ago, before he decided to come to their dad’s house and tell him the truth. If only Ben had known while he was away that Andrew was ill again. But what could he have done? Wouldn’t some curious accident have occurred that brought Ben home to Andrew if it were supposed to happen?

  Does he really believe this?

  Yes. He thinks he does.

  Ben folds the paper and puts it in his shirt pocket. Then he takes the Wish Box from the package, gently fingers the many ridges that are as familiar as the lines of Andrew’s face. The wonky lid falls free, as always, clanking like the chains that first held Lucy. It lands on the grass. Inside is a single folded Post-it note.

  Ben opens the yellow square. Again, he reads the words there aloud.

  ‘I wish you happiness.’

  He whispers them again. Hears Andrew’s voice over his shoulder, echoing the wish. Ben knows what he means. He remembers the day they talked about happiness, in the hours before they got the test results.

  ‘Happiness that lasts is much rarer,’ Andrew said to him then. ‘I think you need to be … honest.’

  Ben had insisted that he was going to tell his dad; said they should just get the test results and then he’d tell him about them.

  ‘Then you’ll be happy,’ said Andrew. ‘Because then you can really be yourself.’

  I wish you happiness.

  Ben finally cries. He sobs into the crook of his arm, the way children do when trying to be brave and hoping no one can see their tears. An old lady pushing a pink shopping trolley past the bench pauses, touches Ben’s sleeve. He pulls back, embarrassed.

  ‘Aw, lad,’ she says. ‘What’s to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he chokes. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Must be summat. Best to get it all out.’ She pats his head. Ben suddenly longs for his mum. ‘My grandson’s about your age and he always goes upstairs to cry. But I tell him, no need to hide it from me.’ Seeing Ben is more composed now, she nods and moves on.

  Ben watches her walk away, avoiding the cracks in the pavement.

  I wish you happiness.

  He knows what he must do.

  47

  Three Words

  Ben told Nancy they were joined forever. ‘Because you know my secret,’ he said. ‘About the lions.’

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  Ben is waiting in the station for Esther at three.

  Her train arrives promptly. There is no delay, no overturned carriage or faulty track to interrupt their meeting. He hurries to help with her the bags. She’s still tanned, and her hair is plaited. It may have only been days since they saw one another, but it feels as though it has been months. Ben half expects her pregnancy to be further on, her appearance to be different, more rounded. But she is the girl he saw every day in Africa.

  The girl he has lied to.

  His stomach turns over.

  Esther is shy, kisses his cheek modestly.

  ‘I’m sorry about your brother,’ she says.

  How much does she know? Ben realises she can only know what his dad does. He hugs her. The affection is genuine. She resists a little and can’t look him fully in the eye.

  ‘Shall we go somewhere quiet,’ suggests Ben. ‘I don’t want to go home yet.’

  ‘Whatever you want.’

  They leave the shade of Paragon Station, and head for a sun-baked Queens Gardens. Ben finds a spot by the fountains and rows of colourful flowers that seem to compete with one another for attention. Esther perches on the wall. She fans her face with a train ticket wallet, despite the occasional spray that cools them when the breeze blows their way.

  ‘Not quite our rock in Zimbabwe, is it?’ Ben says. ‘Are you too hot? We can find shade. Or I’ll go get you a drink…’

  ‘Ben, it’s okay, I’m fine.’ She pauses. ‘So, how are you?’ Finally, she looks at him, her eyes watery.

  Ben shrugs. He hurts, wants to say he’s fine. But she deserves more, so much more. This isn’t just about him.

  ‘Not good,’ he admits. ‘I haven’t slept since the hospital rang. My stomach feels like a cement mixer.’

  ‘I guess Andrew was the big thing you couldn’t tell me,’ says Esther gently. ‘The thing your dad had done that you couldn’t forgive.’

  ‘Yes. Andrew was why I was angry at him.’ Ben realises that unless Esther knows what happened between them she won’t fully understand why he was so secretive about it all. But she can never know that. He needs to make her think that it was all about his dad. ‘My dad always had affairs, but I think I was angry that one of them meant I missed having one of my brothers all my life.’

  ‘You only found out Andrew was your brother recently?’

  Ben tells Esther about the test, omitting their real relationship back then.

  ‘It wasn’t myself I was angry for. It was Andrew. He was the one who missed out on a having a family. That’s why I couldn’t forgive my dad. I’ve learned since I got home that he didn’t actually abandon Andrew’s mother. He never even knew she was pregnant. I think he would have stayed if he’d known.’

  A red ball lands at Esther’s feet. She picks it up, smiles, and Ben sees vividly the future mother. The loving and patient parent she will be.

  Moments later a little boy comes for it. ‘Soz, miss,’ he says, and returns to a game with his friends.

  Esther looks back at Ben. Maybe, like he is, she is realising the reality; they will have their own child in just six months.

  ‘Is that why you stayed with me when I found out I was pregnant?’ asks Esther. ‘Because you thought your dad hadn’t and you didn’t want to be him?’

  ‘No,’ insists Ben.

  ‘I know you’ve just had awful news, but I have to be honest with you, Ben.’

  ‘Of course. Tell me.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking the last few days. It’s the first time I’ve had space from us since we met.’ Esther fiddles with one pigtail. ‘And I don’t feel like you’re all there. I mean, not that you’re stupid, but not as into this relationship as I am. I’ve always felt it, but I just loved you so much I ignored it. Remember that day at the eclipse?’

  ‘Of course,’ says Ben.

  ‘I said it was as though you were blocked. And that’s how you seem. Half-hidden.’ Esther pauses. ‘You’ve never said you love me. I don’t want you to … if you don’t … but I guess I need to know why…’

  Ben nods. This is the moment to be honest. But he can’t speak. A stronger breeze gets up and spray wets them both. The boy with the red ball has lost it in the water and leans over the fountain wall. His mother comes and rescues him before he falls.

  ‘Your silence says everything.’ Esther’s voice wavers.

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’ Ben touches her face tenderly. ‘It’s not you. It’s never been you. Fuck, this all sounds so clichéd. But I’ve been selfish. We got deeper and deeper into this. And I wanted to but … I mean, I wanted to say…’

  ‘What?’ she asks softly.

  ‘If I could love you, God, I would.’

  ‘If?’

  ‘Esther, I’m…’ He closes his eyes for a moment. Then he says the words he should have said the first time she looked at him with interest. ‘I’m gay.’

  When she doesn’t speak, he says, ‘You don’t realise, if I wasn’t I’d be madly in love with you. You’re my best friend. You’ve been my rock these last months. And I’ve fucked this up so badly. God, if
I could…’

  Esther starts to laugh. She covers her mouth, says sorry. Laughs some more. Then she stops. Shakes her head.

  And looks desperately sad.

  ‘Ben Roberts,’ she says at last, ‘I said you were full of secrets. And this is it. And it’s so bloody obvious, it’s ridiculous. I’m so stupid.’

  ‘No, yo—’

  ‘I should have known.’ She shakes her head. ‘But why the hell didn’t you just tell me? Why sleep with me? Why not end it there? I don’t get it.’

  ‘My dad,’ says Ben simply.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought he’d disowned his brother for being gay years ago. It made sense – he’s a total bigot. But I was wrong. It was because his brother had stolen from their mum.’ Ben braces himself. Finds it hard to mention his mum when grief is so tight in his chest. ‘Also, I promised my mum when she died that I’d make my dad happy. I thought he’d be miserable if I came out.’

  ‘Oh, Ben.’ Esther touches his arm. ‘I want to be mad at you – I mean, I am for fuck’s sake … but, how can I? You’re too bloody soft. Why didn’t you tell me anyway? I’d never have shared it if you didn’t want me to. We could have still been friends, great friends. Yeah, I’d have been sad not to have you … and I’m heartbroken, I am…’

  She begins to cry. Gets up.

  ‘Oh shit, Esther,’ Ben says gently.

  ‘Just give me a minute.’

  She heads away from him. He begins to follow but senses he should give her space.

  After a while she returns and resumes her place.

  ‘You okay?’ asks Ben.

  ‘No,’ she admits. After a long pause, she says, ‘When you’re in love with someone you know doesn’t love you the same they only haunt you more. You only want them more. Ben, that is how I’ve felt in the last two days being apart from you.’

  Ben feels wretched. Maybe if he admits he was trying to put a sexual relationship with his own brother behind him by starting up with her it will somehow ease this mess. But he can never share that secret.

  ‘I was messed up’ is all he can say.

  ‘It makes sense now. Your distance. Any excuse not to sleep with me.’ Esther looks at him. Her eyes are still sad. ‘But I’m in love with you, Ben Roberts. What am I supposed to do with that, eh?’

  Ben knows so well about not being able to have the one person you want. He wants to say that with time, and with distance, it is possible to let that love change into the kind of love it is supposed to be.

  ‘I may not love you in that way,’ he says. ‘But we’re joined forever, aren’t we?’ He looks at her stomach. ‘We’ll do this together – be parents. I’ll come to all the scans and stuff and be there at the birth, and for the next eighteen years. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘But how? I live in Newcastle, you live here.’ Esther sounds angry now. ‘And we can’t live together as a couple, can we? How’s it all going to work?’

  Ben realises how exhausted he is. He longs for a sugary drink.

  ‘I could move up there. Live near to you. I’ll do whatever makes it work.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake. Whatever makes it work?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know what that is yet. But I’ll do it.’

  Perhaps realising how pale Ben looks, she says less angrily, ‘Look, we don’t have to figure it all out now. You have a lot to deal with first.’

  ‘I’m sorry for lying to you,’ he says. ‘I had no right to mess with your life like that. To get you pregnant in such a dishonest way.’

  ‘It is what it is.’ She pauses. ‘And I’m glad I’m pregnant.’

  The fountain sprays them, like a blessing of baptismal water.

  ‘So what now?’ Ben asks.

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Yes. Are you comfortable coming back to stay at my dad’s?’

  Esther shakes her head. ‘I think I’ll go home.’

  ‘Home? But you just got here. You don’t have t––’

  ‘It’s not a problem, I’ll just get the next train back. I think that’s best. You’re tired and you’re going to have stuff to sort out. I need some time. You have to give me that, Ben.’

  He nods.

  ‘We can get together in a week or two, can’t we?’

  ‘Christ, what will you tell your family?’ he asks.

  ‘The truth,’ she says. ‘They’re going to get to know you over the next eighteen years, aren’t they?’

  ‘I should have done that at the start,’ says Ben.

  ‘But then I wouldn’t be having this baby, would I?’ Esther adds softly, ‘And I want her.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘It’s just an instinct.’ Esther stretches, stands. ‘Walk me to the station.’

  Ben does. Her pink trainers match his pace. Their feet are in time, like his and Andrew’s always were. He smiles.

  The next train to Newcastle is in half an hour so they share a sandwich on the platform. When it arrives, Esther kisses Ben on the mouth as if she has forgotten.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t be.’ He hugs her.

  ‘Ben…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Did you enjoy our time in Zimbabwe? Was that real?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘That was one of the realest things that ever happened to me.’

  When the train leaves, she waves.

  And he waves back.

  48

  Sempiternal

  The lioness let her cub go. She didn’t want to. She knew what danger lurked in the shadows.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  Andrew’s funeral passes as any other; quietly, to a schedule, sun shining regardless. Ben has not been to many. His mum’s passed in a blur. This one does, too. The salt-haired priest fakes intimate acquaintance with Andrew, reading his life facts from a sheet of paper: He was a son, a brother, an uncle. Ben realises everyone present is faking intimacy with Andrew. Only he knew him. Only his tears are real.

  In the front pew, Will squeezes his arm. During the five days since Andrew’s death, Ben has spent most of time in his room, surfacing only to eat or go for walks. Esther went home, and Ben returned from the station alone, telling his dad that they were taking some time apart until the funeral was done. If Will wondered what had really happened, he didn’t ask.

  ‘I’m here if you wanna talk, lad,’ he said each time Ben went into the kitchen.

  But Ben didn’t know where to start.

  Now he sits on one side of Ben, and Mike – who managed to extend his leave – sits on the other, quietly supportive. Kim is at home with Lola. Behind them are some of Andrew’s friends, hastily located from an old address book, and his neighbour Mrs Hardy, who Ben spoke with at the start. He wonders if she ever knew about their true relationship, if she is now confused about Andrew being buried as Ben’s brother. He would never ask her outright, and she was warm and pleasant to him earlier, but he feels uneasy at the thought that she might know. After this he will probably never see her again anyway.

  That makes him sad, and he isn’t sure why.

  Halfway through, Ben spots Leo sitting at the back by the stone pillar. His heart stops. He turns quickly away, afraid to catch Leo’s eye.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Will asks Ben.

  ‘Old friend of Andrew’s.’

  ‘Ah. One of those friends?’

  ‘Dad. Seriously. Can you not?’

  Ben feels sick. Leo must be wondering why the hell Andrew is being buried as his brother. He needs to keep him away from his family. Perhaps he will just slip away at the end; after all, he is sitting discreetly at the back. Ben’s stomach turns over. He is glad that not many relatives are in attendance. Fewer questions to answer. Will and Ben agreed that the service should be modest, small, and not filled with nosy family members. There will be time for explanations later. For now, Andrew deserves a dignified send-off.

  How dignified will it be if Leo is here to cause trouble?

&nbs
p; But why would he be?

  Still, Ben keeps his eyes on the coffin. On it is a colourful casket spray – pink roses, orchids and lilies – that was sent by Andrew’s publisher, Tara, who rang with condolences last night. She said that now wasn’t the time to discuss it fully, but Andrew’s future royalties would be paid to the family as part of his will. Will said Ben should have it. But he couldn’t think of money now. Didn’t care about a penny of it.

  Yesterday, there was a piece in the newspaper about Andrew’s death. It described how he had recently achieved huge success with his third children’s novel, The Lion Tamer Who Lost, only to lose his ‘long and valiant fight with cancer’. The picture was one from his book tour, black and white, his face gaunt but eyes bright. Ben read the article numerous times at the kitchen table, touching the picture tenderly when his dad wasn’t there.

  ‘Even though you can tell he’s ill,’ he said, ‘he looks so happy.’

  Will nodded. ‘I remember how passionate he was about his writing that Sunday.’

  ‘He was. It was his life.’

  Ben took the newspaper upstairs with him. Keeps it under his pillow.

  The salt-haired priest concludes his sermon. No one has done a reading. Ben said to Will yesterday that he didn’t think he’d be able to, even though there are a few lines in Andrew’s novel he would have loved to have shared. Ben, Will and Mike, with three of the funeral home staff, carried the coffin from the hearse to the church earlier; now they must carry it out again.

  They all stand.

  Suddenly Ben doesn’t know what to do with his hands; what does he usually do with them? He used to love holding Andrew’s inside his. His left leg is slower than his right, limp, in the way, a burden. Which leg usually moves first when he walks? He can’t recall. He cries without covering his face.