The Lion Tamer Who Lost

by Louise Beech

  ‘Come on now, lad,’ says his dad.

  ‘Better out than in,’ says Mike, gripping his shoulder. ‘Isn’t that what they say?’

  ‘Yes, about farts,’ mumbles Will.

  Ben smiles through the tears.

  At the graveside, the flowers wilt in the heat. Leo stands far away from the small group, eyes lowered, hands trembling. Ben’s phone buzzes. He should have turned it off altogether. Stig has been ringing him the last few days, and he kept missing them. But the messages he left were good news. Lucy is continuing to improve. Her stitches are healing well, and she is apparently up and about like her old self. There is a part of Ben that is angry that Andrew did not recover so well. But it passes.

  After the burial, when they all get into the cars, Ben tells his dad he won’t be a moment and catches up with Leo on the path as he departs.

  ‘Leo, wait,’ he calls.

  Leo turns. His weathered face is pale, his eyes sad.

  ‘I had to…’ Ben doesn’t know what to say now.

  ‘I just can’t believe he’s gone,’ says Leo.

  ‘I know. It was so…’ Ben wants to say something about Andrew being his brother, to explain. But he can’t find the right words.

  ‘I know,’ says Leo.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I know,’ he repeats. ‘About you and Andrew. What happened.’

  Ben has come to terms with Andrew being his brother, but Leo’s words bring a surge of shame.

  ‘How?’ asks Ben, despite his sinking heart.

  ‘I was at an awards ceremony in London with Andrew.’ He pauses, admits, ‘Not with him with him. But there as a competitor. He let it slip. I wouldn’t let it go and, in the end, he told me about the test.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ben looks around, as though others might hear, but Mike and his dad are in the car.

  ‘It was quite a shock,’ says Leo.

  ‘It was for us,’ says Ben.

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asks Leo.

  ‘Well, my family have no idea. They think we were mates. My dad doesn’t even…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ sighs Ben.

  ‘Doesn’t know you’re gay?’ Leo shrugs. ‘I wondered. You’re only young. I didn’t come out to my family until I was thirty. Hardest thing I ever did. My mum was fine. My dad … well, he’s okay now, but it took a while.’

  ‘Shit.’ Ben says this more to himself.

  ‘Look,’ says Leo. ‘You guys didn’t know when you … you know. I’m not gonna say anything. At first, I admit I was like, wow, this could make a great story. I told Andrew that I might write something. But I know that was awful. I was insensitive. So I’m not going to. And I won’t say anything more on it. I’m glad he found his family. I always felt for him being so alone.’

  ‘Thanks.’ There’s not much more Ben can say.

  ‘You’d better get back to your family,’ says Leo. ‘I’m glad you won’t see me around and wonder how much I know or what I’ll say. You can say hi. I’ll say hi.’

  Leo continues down the path. After a few steps, he turns, says, ‘I hope you find a way to do it.’

  ‘Do what?’ asks Ben.

  ‘Say those three words. To your family.’

  As he returns to the car, Ben wonders if he can do it. Tell his dad. Tell Mike. He is tired of carrying it around, of worrying, of hiding, of secrets. Esther knows and that was hard enough. She rang him yesterday, wishing him well for the funeral, and she said she thought it was time to tell them.

  ‘I had to say some really difficult words to my family last week,’ she said. ‘I’m pregnant. Not the easiest thing to say when you’re young and they hoped you’d do more with your life. And when you’re now single…’

  Ben wonders why he still dreads the idea of saying it. Now he knows that his dad didn’t turn Uncle Jerry away, and that he wasn’t bothered about Andrew, why do the three words get lodged in his throat.

  Isn’t it time to find the happiness Andrew wants him to have?

  Ben gets in the car and it pulls away. There is no wake. No family gathering. It is over.

  ‘Let’s go to that pub,’ says Ben.

  ‘Which one, lad?’ asks Will.

  ‘Ye Olde Black Boy.’

  The last time they were there, Ben confronted him about Kimberley. How long ago it seems.

  ‘Yeah, let’s,’ agrees Mike.

  ‘Can you drop us there?’ Will asks the driver.

  Returning to the pub near the river, with its wood panelling and tobacco-stained fixtures, Ben feels so much older now. Like he is coming back after a whole decade. Will buys the beer and they go into the darker back room. It’s quiet, probably because it’s midweek. They sit around a table, silent, sipping beer. The liquid warms Ben. He lets it in.

  ‘Let’s drink to Andrew,’ says Mike eventually. ‘A brother I never knew.’ There’s a hint of bitterness to the words, but Will ignores it.

  ‘To Andrew,’ says Ben, quietly.

  ‘To Andrew,’ says Will.

  ‘He didn’t even like beer,’ says Ben, softly.

  ‘No?’ Will says. ‘What the hell was wrong with him?’

  ‘He wasn’t much of a drinker.’

  ‘Are we sure he was yours, Dad?’ Mike is joking, not being cruel.

  Ben looks around at them. ‘I chose to come here now because…’ He pales, sips his drink. ‘Because last time we were here I didn’t say everything.’

  ‘Last time?’ asks Mike.

  ‘This is where I confronted Dad about Kimberley,’ admits Ben.

  ‘Oh.’ Mike takes a huge swig of beer and feels around for his cigarettes.

  ‘But I wasn’t fully … I mean … I had other stuff I never said.’

  ‘I had this feeling,’ says Will. ‘You seemed … I dunno … not yourself.’

  Ben feels sick. He stands, legs wobbly. ‘Give me a minute.’

  He goes to the toilets. At the sink, he splashes cold water on his face. He looks at his phone. The message is from Stig. Lucy is going to go on the hunt again tonight. Ben smiles. For a split second, when he looks up, and into the mirror, Andrew is there too. Smiling. Eyes flashing gold. Ben turns but he is alone. No. He isn’t. Not really. He never will be.

  He goes back to the table.

  ‘What is it?’ asks Will, his face desperately concerned. ‘Please tell me you’re not ill too, lad?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine. I’m not ill.’

  ‘Well, did something happen in Zimbabwe? You had no appetite even before Andrew died. Son, I’m bloody worried.’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ Ben takes another swig of beer. ‘There’s something else. God, I’ve thought and thought about how to say it. The whole time I was away.’ He pauses. ‘Andrew knew something about me. He always said I should tell you. That I wouldn’t truly be happy until I did.’ Ben looks at Will. ‘I almost did. Almost have. But … Dad…’

  Mike puts his glass down carefully. ‘I think I know,’ he says quietly.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘You are my brother, Ben.’

  ‘Christ, what is it?’ demands Will. ‘I’m worried sick now.’

  ‘You’ll never know how hard this is,’ says Ben. ‘I thought it was something you’d disown me for. Thought the whole family would follow your lead. And I promised Mum before she died that I’d look after you all. Make you happy, Dad. I thought this would ruin everything.’

  ‘Look, unless you’ve murdered someone, I can deal with owt, lad.’ He adds, ‘And even if you’ve killed some bugger, we can get past that too.’

  It’s just three words. Say them.

  ‘Okay.’ Ben closes his eyes. He opens them; says, ‘I’m gay.’

  Will laughs. ‘Is that it?’

  Ben is stunned. ‘Yes. That’s it.’

  ‘Christ, we can deal with that.’ Will swigs the rest of his beer. ‘Jesus, I thought you were gonna say you were leaving ag
ain. Thank God you’re not. There’s a shirt-lifter comes in here on a Friday. He’s a boring bastard but he does no harm to no one.’

  Ben laughs. ‘Dad, you’re the most unbigoted bigot I know.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ says Mike.

  ‘But Esther?’ Will frowns. ‘If you’re … you know…’

  ‘Yes, that was something I thought might … well, help me continue the lie. I thought I could be with her. I really did. It was stupid of me. She’s the most incredible girl. She didn’t deserve to be treated so badly, and I’ll have to live with that.’ Ben pauses. ‘The thing is … she’s pregnant.’

  ‘Bloody hell, lad. You don’t waste your time!’ Will looks pleased. ‘What are you gonna do?’

  ‘Be a dad,’ says Ben. ‘I guess we’ll just … work it out. Find a way. I’m gonna be there for them both.’

  ‘I guess that’s congratulations then, bro,’ says Mike. ‘Lola gets a cousin. Kimberley will be chuffed.’

  ‘I’m going up to Newcastle in a few days,’ says Ben. ‘Going to meet Esther’s family. It’ll be tough facing them, but I guess it’s what I deserve.’

  ‘Look, I just wanna say…’ Will raises his glass. ‘I know I’ve been an arse. An idiot. Yes, worse,’ he adds at Mike’s glare. ‘But I’m so proud of you. Of both of you.’ This he says with a pointed glance at Ben. ‘Can’t say I won’t be a dick again. Can’t say I’ll stop drinking. My love of it is a bit like your love of the fellas – can’t help it or change it.’

  Ben starts to interrupt, outraged at the comparison.

  ‘I’m teasing, lad,’ says Will. ‘But, like you two, I am what I am. And I do love you.’

  Neither of his sons says anything. After a while, Ben picks up the newspaper on the next table. He opens it at the sudoku puzzle.

  ‘You wanna start or shall I?’ he says.

  The day after the pub, Ben goes to Andrew’s flat. He stands at the dust-coated desk and touches the soft butterfly there. He knows it used to hang rigid in a frame, that Andrew’s mum inherited it from her mother. Through his childhood, Andrew said he had touched the glass, hoping to rouse the sleeping creature. When his mum died, he smashed the frame and softened the butterfly under the tap.

  Ben holds it in his open palm and watches it curl. He goes into the kitchen, touches the fading I HEART PARIS fridge magnet. The word on the 365-new-words-a-year calendar is still sempiternal. Andrew must have forgotten to tear off another day the morning he died. Maybe he liked the word. Ben reads the definition again: eternal and unchanging, everlasting. He takes both items from the fridge door.

  Then he goes to the bedroom. He sits on the bed. He can smell Andrew. He closes his eyes and it is as though he’s still here. They both had a fascination for numbers, a love of creatures that roamed free of gilt-edged frames and cages, and a wonderful difference of opinion over wishes. They ended up sharing DNA. Now Ben is the only one in their family who can share his memories, and he’ll make sure they never forget him.

  He leaves the flat with the little trinkets he wants to keep, knowing he will put them with the Wish Box and keep them forever.

  49

  Love Goes with Us

  Because we all want to stay in the place we’re loved.

  Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost

  Ben opens the book and recites the words.

  The reading aloud he has done all his life is now perfectly right for this moment. He doesn’t stumble over the sentences. Doesn’t say any mis-words. He has read it so many times that he can almost repeat it from memory. But he likes to look at the pages, at the occasional pictures, and the tiny lion cub in the top corner of each page. He likes to have the book in his lap this way.

  Ben reads The Lion Tamer Who Lost to his daughter.

  Heidi lies contented in his arm. At two weeks, she’s far too young to understand the words, but Ben learned in a parenting magazine that reading to a child from birth increases intelligence and creativity. So, in the soft orange light of her nursery, he has done this every night since they brought her home from the hospital.

  He is staying at Esther’s for these early weeks, and then he will visit every weekend. The thought of not being here every day is painful. Not seeing Heidi wake or seeing her feed or bathing her … how will he do it? He knows he won’t want to leave on a Sunday night and go back to Hull. He looks down at Heidi and smells the sweet odour of her forehead as though to fortify himself for the looming departure.

  You’ve dealt with harder separations, Ben thinks. And you keep Andrew alive simply by imagining him.

  Though he hasn’t spoken to Esther about the idea yet, Ben has been thinking about using the money from Andrew’s continuing royalties to open some kind of domestic animal sanctuary. Two film companies have expressed an interest in The Lion Tamer Who Lost, too, and if that happens Ben wants to do something Andrew would like with the income. What could be more fitting than opening somewhere that cares for animals between homes and then places them with their true families?

  Ben could buy a venue up here, near Newcastle, and maybe live on the site. There is a lot to consider, but the idea won’t leave his head. Maybe he and Esther could run it, and then take turns caring for their daughter. They could each still live their own lives. Esther can find a partner, as Ben often tells her she should feel free to do.

  ‘I will,’ Esther usually says. ‘When I’m ready. I just had a bloody baby. And I’m…’

  She never finishes that sentence but Ben knows what the end is. He sees the way she still looks at him. Maybe it will be better for them both when he isn’t here all the time. He hates to think she is hurting still because of him.

  ‘You’ll find someone first, I reckon,’ Esther says often to him.

  But Ben doubts it. He once figured the odds of finding someone just like Andrew were zero. Maybe – if he wishes for it – he’ll find another somehow right. Maybe you can get lucky twice in a lifetime.

  Maybe getting lucky once is enough.

  The baby sighs, as though impatient for her bedtime story. Ben smiles tenderly at his daughter, at her soft blonde wisps of hair, her pink cheeks. She squints the way newborns do when they’re trying to focus. ‘If you get bored of it, just say so. Maybe kick me, or cry or fart. You’re good at that.’

  She doesn’t make a sound.

  Esther puts her head around the door. ‘You still reading? She’ll be hungry soon, Ben.’ She wears the fluffy white dressing gown he bought her; she looks tired, fragile as thin china, but pretty.

  ‘We won’t be long. I’ll call you when she’s hungry. Go, rest, Esther. She’s probably gonna have us both up all night again.’

  ‘Who needs sleep, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s overrated.’ Ben smiles. ‘I just wanna sit and look at her all night anyway. She’s sempiternal.’

  ‘You must be tired. You’re talking in those crazy wrong words again.’

  ‘No, it’s a real word. Means everlasting.’

  ‘Nice.’

  Esther disappears. Ben turns another page. It’s Christmas Eve. Snow has failed to fall, but ice coats the outside surfaces with festive shine. There are gifts under the tree that Heidi’s tiny fingers won’t be able to open, that they will undo for her.

  It suddenly occurs to Ben that exactly a year ago he was in a less cosy nursery with Lucy. He closes his eyes; he can still see the golden ripples of her damp fur, still smell the heat of animal. He remembers those long, sticky nights together; that curious intimacy where neither quite trusted the other, but some bond held them.

  They were somehow right too.

  The night Esther went into labour, Stig called. While Ben paced a hospital corridor, worried he was missing a new contraction or development, Stig told Ben that Lucy had been released. She was free. Untamed. Though her wilderness is still monitored by the project, the hope is that she will rear her own cubs, and that they will be truly free, and raised without any human contact at all.

  Already emotion
al, Ben had cried at the news. He pictured the closing shot of the documentary he watched with his mum when he was a kid – the two lions walking off into the sunset.

  ‘This is good,’ Stig assured him. ‘You did good. She did good.’

  Ben thought of the circus, of those tired, toothless, balding lions. Lucy would never be whipped by a lion tamer. She would never submit to the instruction of a man with a chair.

  ‘Think you’ll come back and visit us?’ asked Stig.

  ‘I hope so. One day.’

  Ben had hung up and returned to the labour suite, where nine hours later he watched his screaming, bloody daughter make her way into the world, too. He held her before anyone else. Though he had not done so with Lucy – and had had to form a bond with a three-month-old – this time he was there at the very start. He then carried Heidi, with skinny legs dangling from a blanket, from the midwife to a teary Esther.

  Now Ben turns another page.

  ‘Your mum’s going to want you soon,’ he whispers to Heidi.

  It felt like the most natural thing to name her after his mum. Esther had no complaints, said she loved it. Will nodded when Ben told him, eyes watery.

  ‘Shall we cheat a bit?’ Ben says. ‘You know the story anyway.’

  He flicks through the book and finds the last page. It’s his favourite. This paragraph is the one where he can most hear Andrew’s voice. The one he can imagine Andrew typing. The one Andrew could never have known would be his final words.

  ‘Okay, are you ready?’ Ben asks.

  He hopes that one day this book will be Heidi’s childhood favourite.

  Now she is asleep.

  ‘Did I wear you out?’ Ben smiles. ‘No worries. I’ll go it alone. So this is the bit where Book Ben – that’s what Andrew always called him – has learned to walk again and is now all grown up. He wonders if the lions ever really came to his bedroom while he was ill all those years ago.’

  Sometimes, Ben can hardly ever believe he was really in Zimbabwe.

  It seems a million years ago.

  And yet Andrew seems like only yesterday.

  Heidi snorts suddenly, and Ben laughs.