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- Herausgeber: Orenda Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
A heartbreaking, breathtakingly beautiful love story with an unforgettable tragedy at its heart, from the critically acclaimed, award-winning author of Maria in the Moon and How To Be Brave. ***Shortlisted for the Sapere Books 'Most Popular Romantic Fiction' Award at the 2019 RNA Awards*** ***Longlisted for the Polari Prize*** 'Beech eloquently conveys their feelings and longings and sets atmospheric, vividly drawn scenes that transport the reader from grey and damp England to the searing heat of the lion reserve …The Lion Tamer Who Lost will touch the most hardhearted of readers with its persuasive, well-drawn and memorable characters' Daily Express 'A devastating, tender and powerful love story, beautifully and bravely told. You will lose your heart to this book. I adored it' Miranda Dickinson 'Vivid, passionate and exquisitely told, this love story will live on in my heart for a very long time to come. A poignant, surprising and all-consuming read' Katie Marsh _______________ Be careful what you wish for… Long ago, Andrew made a childhood wish, and kept it in a silver box. When it finally comes true, he wishes he hadn't… Long ago, Ben made a promise and he had a dream: to travel to Africa to volunteer at a lion reserve. When he finally makes it, it isn't for the reasons he imagined… Ben and Andrew keep meeting in unexpected places, and the intense relationship that develops seems to be guided by fate. Or is it? What if the very thing that draws them together is tainted by past secrets that threaten everything? A dark, consuming drama that shifts from Zimbabwe to England, and then back into the past, The Lion Tamer Who Lost is also a devastatingly beautiful love story, with a tragic heart… 'A stirring novel, beautifully written, reminiscent of the early work of Maggie O'Farrell' Irish Times 'Fans of Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine will love it' Red Magazine 'An excruciatingly passionate love story, in its surprising turns and lovely particulars … A beautiful text' Foreword Reviews 'This book really got under my skin as a beautiful portrait of love, loss and longing' Irish Independent 'An incredible, poignant piece of work. Louise Beech had cemented her place as one of Britain's finest modern storytellers' John Marrs 'A beautiful, honest and tender love story that I won't forget for a long time …Their love had me trapped in its spell, their tragic moments had me sobbing like a baby … A triumph' Fionnuala Kearney 'A beautifully crafted book' Carol Lovekin 'Louise Beech has totally blown me away with her storytelling' Madeleine Black 'I adored this beautiful and inspiring book' Kate Furnivall 'Already one of my favourites of 2018' LoveReading 'Storytelling at its finest. Louise Beech is a beguiling wordsmith. Prepare to be hooked' Amanda Prowse 'Digs deep emotionally, but is funny and feel-good, too' Fiona Mitchell 'A stunning and very brave book' Gill Paul 'The setting alone makes this book worth a read' S. E. Lynes 'Louise Beech is a natural-born storyteller with an elegance about her writing that never fails to move me' Michael J. Malone 'There are times when you finish reading a book and know that part of it will stay with you always. This will be one of those books' Claire Allan 'It put me in mind of John Irving. It's that feeling of being in the hands of a master storyteller and just trusting him or her so completely' Laura Pearson
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Seitenzahl: 472
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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PRAISE FOR LOUISE BEECH
‘I cannot remember when I was last so touched by a story. Tin Man meets Brokeback Mountain – it really is that good. This isn’t a book you just read, it’s something you absorb. An incredible, poignant piece of work. Louise Beech had cemented her place as one of Britain’s finest modern storytellers’ John Marrs
‘A beautiful, honest and tender love story that I won’t forget for a long time. With wishes, promises, betrayals, heartbreak and joy – Ben and Andrew’s story spans time and distance. Their love had me trapped in its spell, their tragic moments had me sobbing like a baby. The scenes in Zimbabwe had me right there, inhaling the heady scents and listening to the lions roar. This is Louise Beech at her very best. A triumph’ Fionnuala Kearney
‘Beech sets up the love story quietly and convincingly. And then – bang – something astonishing and completely unexpected happens to Ben and Andrew. This is where the narrative really gathers pace. I had read patiently until that point then I raced my way to the end. The book digs deep emotionally, but is funny and feel-good too’ Fiona Mitchell
‘Storytelling at its finest. Louise Beech is a beguiling wordsmith. Prepare to be hooked’ Amanda Prowse
‘The whole novel is skilfully woven together, with complex, utterly convincing characters and an impossible moral dilemma at the core. It’s a compelling read through to the emotional final pages. I love the poetry, the wisdom, and the insights into life at a lion sanctuary, so vivid that the reader can hear and smell as well as visualise them. It’s a stunning and very brave book’ Gill Paul
‘Louise Beech does it again. The setting alone makes this book worth a read, the lightly handled metaphor of a place where damaged beings go to recover provides a sumptuous backdrop that does its work on the reader’s subconscious while they enjoy the action of the story. Love, complicated families and the hurtful things people say and do to one another out of fear, love and ignorance feature here, as well as messy relationships and the mistakes flawed human beings make while trying so hard not to. A moving read’ S.E. Lynes
‘Heartfelt and wry, this will transport you into a keenly observed world; secrets are hidden, people are flawed, but humanity endures’ Ruth Dugdall
‘Louise Beech is a natural-born storyteller with an elegance about her writing that never fails to move me’ Michael J. Malone
‘This is real life, bruised, torn and coffee-stained, refusing to give up … simply stunning’ Su Bristow
‘There are times when you finish reading a book and know that part of it will stay with you always. This will be one of those books’ Claire Allen
‘It put me in mind of John Irving. It’s that feeling of being in the hands of a master storyteller and just trusting him or her so completely’ Laura Pearson
‘Nothing about this story disappoints. The African setting, the excellent writing, and above all, the immaculate storytelling. It’s a cleverly constructed book too. I loved the chapter headings which give us a glimpse of the story within the story. Another triumph. A beautifully crafted book’ Carole Lovekin
‘Again, Louise Beech has totally blown me away with her storytelling ability. I loved this beautiful but painful love story; which is also about coincidences, loss and difficult relationships. This is a story about the strength of love and what sometimes needs to be sacrificed for it’ Madeleine Black
‘Adored this beautiful and inspiring book’ Kate Furnivall
‘Already one of my favourites of 2018’ Liz Robinson, LoveReadingUK
‘There are books I love and books I will treasure forever and The Lion Tamer Who Lost by the superbly talented Louise Beech is the latter. She is the “queen” of storytelling. This novel was such a compelling and emotive read, and so beautifully written I’m not convinced anything I write will convey how truly wonderful this book was’ The Book Review Café
‘It was about the strength of love and the selfless sacrifices that people make at a time of crisis, and also having the maturity and courage to deal with life’s setbacks if things don’t go as planned … I knew this book would be a tearjerker as soon as I immersed myself in Louise Beech’s story, with her poetic words leaping off the page like little sparks of light. Each one of her books is unique – nothing like her previous ones, but just as compelling and compassionate’ Off-the-Shelf Books
‘A very emotional read. Louise Beech, what are you doing to me? Your writing is lovely and evocative and you made me care for what happened to Andrew and Ben. Did not see the ending at all!’ The Book Trail
‘I’ve loved all of her novels. However, I think this one might be my favorite yet! I love Louise’s books because I can’t help but become completely captivated by the way she tells her stories and the beauty of her characters. Her books are always beautiful, poignant, and magical’ The Misstery
‘The Lion Tamer Who Lost is beautiful from the first page right to the very last page!’ Have Books Will Read
‘Louise Beech is able to find the extraordinary in the ordinary; to take a story that could easily happen anywhere and weave it into a magical story of love, life and heartfelt emotion that is nothing less than epic. Moving, honest, and heartbreakingly tender, The Lion Tamer Who Lost had me in tears more than once. A beautiful, poignant, stand-out book of 2018. I urge you to read it’ Live and Deadly
‘This book is a love story, a tale of secrets, guilt, confusion, bigotry and shame, beautifully woven together through the narration of Ben and Andrew. I was transported to the lion sanctuary in Africa through the author’s stunning poetic and descriptive writing style’ Compulsive Readers
‘Louise’s greatest skill is in her attention to detail. Her descriptions of the Zimbabwean savanna are quite beautiful. She is a writer of great perception and acuity. She writes with sensitivity, with a sharp ear for dialogue and for creating depth of character. The Lion Tamer Who Lost is a beautiful, thought-provoking and simply wonderful book. At its heart it is a tragic love story, but dig deeper and it is so much more than that. It is a look at the issues surrounding sexuality, acceptance, deception and the emotional fall-out from dealing with an earth-shattering tragedy’ The Beardy Book Blogger
‘Louise Beech’s writing is exquisite. I’m not ashamed to say I cried. More than once. I cried at the relationship between Ben and Andrew a few times and I also cried over Will, the man who knew he had made mistakes and regretted them. An absolutely brilliant novel, told as always from the heart’ Steph’s Book Blog
‘The writing is exquisite – every word carefully chosen, capturing the open skies of Africa with the same ease and beauty as those small moments within an intense relationship. This book was total perfection, beautiful, breathtaking, heartbreaking, and one of the very best books I’ve read this – or any other – year’ Being Anne
‘Beautifully and thoughtfully written’ Trip Fiction
‘I’m finding it difficult to convey how fabulous the writing is – as Louise Beech has left me, to quote her, “speechless, full of silent words” and not a few tears. A book that will stay with readers, and listeners, for a very long time’ Linda’s Book Bag
‘A stirring novel, beautifully written, reminiscent of the early work of Maggie O’Farrell’ Irish Times
‘Quirky, darkly comic, heartfelt and original’ Sunday Mirror
‘This achingly sad story has wonderful characters’ Sunday People
‘A beautiful and compassionate read’ Prima
‘Fans of Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine will love it’ Red
‘With lilting, rhythmic prose that never falters, How To Be Brave held me from its opening lines … Wonderful’ Amanda Jennings
‘Two family stories of loss and redemption intertwine in a painfully beautiful narrative. This book grabbed me right around my heart and didn’t let go’ Cassandra Parkin
‘An amazing story of hope and survival … a love letter to the power of books and stories’ Nick Quantrill
‘Louise Beech is a natural born storyteller and this is a wonderful story’ Russ Litten
‘How To Be Brave reminds us of the frailty of the human condition and champions that inner strength we all have when faced with adversity. Beautifully written and emotionally resonant, this will stay with you long after you turn the final page’ Liz Loves Books
‘Ms Beech has written an amazing story … of unconditional love, the best cure for every pain and disease’ Chick Cat Library Cat
‘An exquisite novel. Darkly compelling emotionally charged. And I LOVED it!’ Jane Isaac
‘The Mountain in My Shoe is cleverly laced with a chilling and gripping storyline about a controlling, possibly psychotic husband. I couldn’t put it down. Louise Beech is an author who writes with her heart on her sleeve’ Fleur Smithwick
‘Louise Beech proves with this incredibly moving story that the success of her debut, How To Be Brave – a 2015 Guardian Reader’s Pick – was no flash in the pan … A fabulous, exquisitely written novel that will stay with you for a long time after you turn the final page’ David Young
‘This gripping story is the kind of book to put your life on hold for … I was in flood of tears by the end and know that the characters will stay with me for a very long time. A worthy successor to the brilliant How To Be Brave’ Katie Marsh
‘It is a brilliantly creative work of fiction, and a beautiful thank-you letter to the magic of stories and storytelling’ We Love This Book
‘This book will make you feel a plethora of emotions. It’s funny, sad, dark, warm, chilling, moving, but above all, it is beautifully written. This will stay with me for ages. Pure class’ Michael Wood
‘Beautiful, poignant, funny, heart-rending, dark … this book will stay with me for a very long time’ Claire Douglas
‘Captivating and haunting’ Louisa Treger
‘A story of pain and love … moving and real’ Vanessa Lafaye
‘A dark, wonderful novel of self-discovery, of the things we hide inside ourselves and the bravery it takes to face them’ Melissa Bailey
‘Louise Beech effortlessly captures the grind of real life and infuses it with flourishes of subtle poetry to create a wonderful story’ Matt Wesolowski
‘Reading a book by Louise Beech is like a visit to the wrong side of the tracks with a friend to hold your hand. As you pick your way through an unfamiliar and unnerving landscape, she is forever saying “Look – here is beauty; look, there is goodness”’ Richard Littledale
‘Maria in the Moon is part psychological thriller, part love story and fans of Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine will love it’ Red Magazine – recommended as one of September’s best pulse-quickening page-turners
‘Some books seem to fly under the radar and catch you completely by surprise, which is exactly what Louise Beech’s Maria in the Moon did. Brilliantly written and incredibly moving, Beech captures the nature of memory and truth with an honest poignancy’ Culture Fly
‘Catherine has a gap in her memory. It’s a mystery until she loses her home in a flood and a horrifying memory emerges’ Daily Express – Maria in the Moon is recommended as a must read
‘This is not a book to be rushed, but rather one to be savoured. Each word is important and I didn’t want to miss a thing. Sometimes I went back and reread a sentence or paragraph. I needed to absorb it all. Louise Beech has such a lovely way with words. It’s hard to describe how beautifully she puts across her characters’ thoughts, fears and feelings. Her writing is insightful … It’s a wonderful read and I absolutely loved it’ Nudge Magazine
‘Beech’s exploration of the effects of childhood trauma keeps the reader intrigued until the end’ Booklist
‘Her writing is raw, beautiful and alive with emotions, and also full of fun. The finely balanced feelings of despair, hope, optimism and community spirit set up a rich background for the analysis of how to manage forgiveness and ways of coping with a painful, overwhelming past. This is not a typical crime-fiction story as it’s quite possible to work out what terrible trauma has shaped Catherine’s life, and how it has affected those around her, but nevertheless, the personal journey of the too prickly, angry, not-always-likeable but genuine character is worth following’ Crime Review
‘This is superb writing; a story that will stay with me for a long time and is extraordinarily written and presented. There are moments of unexpected beauty from richly complicated characters. It really is quite spellbinding’ Random Things through My Letterbox
‘Maria In The Moon is an emotional charged read and I defy anyone not to feel a tug of the heartstrings as Catherine’s story reaches its climax. I cried as the book came to a close. But don’t be mistaken, among all the emotion and angst of Catherine’s life and those she listens to on the phone, there’s suspense, but that’s all I’m going to say #nospoilers. The book has been labelled as “Dark Drama” and it is definitely dark and dramatic’ Crime Book Junkie
‘The writing style is almost lyrical and you find yourself completely carried away with her words … Maria In The Moon made me cry, made my stomach knot, and made me realise the power and strength of the human spirit. An unbelievable read’ Books of All Kinds
‘Maria in the Moon is lyrical, magical, beautifully painful and filled with hope. It is emotions wrapped in paper, feelings trapped in the ink, life seen through the clearest eyes. Open the book and fall in love with a voice and a masterpiece’ Chocolate ‘n’ Waffles
‘Louise Beech has an instinctive understanding of her characters and delivers a story that will haunt you for weeks, maybe months after you finish it. Told with remarkable sensitivity and though difficult to read in places, needs to be read, if we are have any hope of understanding the frail hold Catherine and others like her, have on the reality of events long since buried … If you have not read her novels, then I recommend you do. Dark, poignant and moving, this new release will without doubt garner her many more fans and well deserved that will be’ Books are my Cwtches
‘This book portrays the power that memories can have, the good and the bad. Although quite dark in nature, there is always an underlying thread of hope … The author has a natural storytelling ability’ Reflections of a Reader
‘I loved this novel, its uniqueness and how it captivated me with a whirlwind of emotions … When I read the final sentence of the novel, I did so with a smile on my face. An incredible story, beautifully constructed. 5* genius’ Anne Bonny Book Reviews
‘Incredibly moving and quite literally breathtaking, this is a book that stirs all types of emotion in the reader and leaves you with a sort of wispy feeling of magical realism, one that makes you wonder if you dreamed the entire story or really did just read it. Excellent writing and highly, HIGHLY recommended if you’re looking for a book that is many things all at once, as no single genre can confine this novel’ The Suspense Is Thrilling Me
‘This is such a beautifully written book, it’s emotional, heartbreaking, tough reading in places but it also has some humour. I tried to slowly savour every word as I was reading but this is a story that had to be devoured. It’s quite suspenseful and I just had to read on and on until I was satisfied. It was truly captivating. Maria in the Moon is definitely one of those books that will stay with me for a long, long time. It’s haunting, captivating, raw, emotional and a book I will be highly recommending’ It’s All about the Books Blog
‘This book deals with some very dark and difficult topics that are treated with great empathy and understanding. Louise Beech has a beautiful and lyrical writing style that really engages the reader, drawing them into the story and capturing their attention … Maria in the Moon is a wonderful novel, it is poignant, heartfelt and utterly compelling. A real page-turner that will leave you with a book hangover, I highly recommend it’ Book Literati
‘It’s an absorbing tale of loss and family, with the predominant theme being loss. Loss of your sanctuary, loss of your identity and loss of your innocence. I can see exactly why so many people adore Beech’s novels’ Damp Pebbles
‘Filled with emotion and exquisite prose in Louise Beech’s inimitable style, Maria in the Moon left me speechless and completely thunderstruck. Louise Beech hasn’t just aimed for the stars, she’s shot past them … the very pinnacle of perfection’ The Book Magnet
‘I adored this novel; it is simply stunning and so powerful! I found I could really identify with Catherine. There are parts of her story that were really hard for me to read, coming a bit too close to my own experiences, but the writing is so beautiful that I had to keep reading through my tears … This is one of those very rare and very special novels that will make you feel all of the feelings, it will take hold of you and it won’t let you go’ Rather Too Fond Of Books
‘Maria in the Moon is stunning and has so many qualities that any review I write will never fully convey the beauty within its pages. I could simply just say “read it, you won’t regret it” but that wouldn’t be enough … take the time to read it slowly in order to fully appreciate its exquisiteness and for the emotions to take hold but, when all is said and done, just make sure you read it’ Bloomin Brilliant Books
‘This is such a sumptuous, beautifully written book packed full of emotion and one that tugged at my heart strings as soon as I realised where the story was heading … I loved being taken out of my comfort zone by such an extraordinary young woman. A breathtakingly beautiful story that deserves to be praised far and wide so that everyone can experience it’ My Chestnut Tree Reading
‘As Maria in the Moon progresses it becomes increasingly difficult to put the book down. While the reasoning behind the missing year may become apparent it is without doubt the skill of Louise’s prose that makes this a riveting experience. I think this is a book that will take a little while to finally sink into my subconscious so I can wholly appreciate its beauty. I will probably read it again to fully savour every word because it’s one that needs to be absorbed slowly’ Ali – The Dragon Slayer
‘This novel is a rollercoaster of emotions and hard to categorise or sum up neatly. It made me smile, laugh, cry and think. I was caught up in the storyline, the characters, the relationships and the backdrop of a real event but I was also mesmerised by the writing style and the powerful prose … This book is actually very complex and multilayered in a way that is not obvious but the fact that the prose is so absorbing and captivating shows that this author has a real gift for language’ Bibliomaniac
‘It was emotional in the sense where you end up emotionally exhausted, heartbroken, powerless; all without shedding a tear. Raw, poignant and beautifully delivered, Maria in the Moon will emotionally destroy you in a way that you never thought possible. Allow yourself to feel the storyline. Allow yourself time to digest the emotion. It deserves patience and love, just like Catherine-Maria’ The Writing Garnet
‘I was moved to tears by the beautiful and sensitive writing. Maria In The Moon is a book about fear, love, hope and redemption. Louise Beech made me cry on my wedding anniversary and I love her for it; this is a very special book, insightful, empathetic, moving and so very real’ Hair Past a Freckle
‘Louise Beech writes with an emotional honesty and bravery that elevates her work from the crowd … Very highly recommended’ Mumbling About
‘A novel that will test your senses through the very last page. A dark psychological thriller with complex and damaged characters. So beautifully written, this is a novel that will linger long after you have finished reading’ The Last Word Review
The Lion Tamer Who Lost
Louise Beech
This is dedicated to my husband, my friend, my one and only Joe.
And to my dear friend Michael Mann, who said when I went to him for research help that I should change nothing because ‘love is love, no matter who it’s between’.
‘Destiny has two ways of crushing us – by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them.’
Henri Frederic Amiel
Contents
Bruises
Make a wish
on my latest bruise.
Boys like us
have nothing to lose.
Kiss them please,
every last one.
Will you still love me
when they are gone?
I’m not religious,
but if I were,
I’d kneel at your feet
and say a little prayer.
Here comes another,
to add to all the rest.
Count them please and choose
the one that suits me best.
Dean Wilson
PART ONE
BEN
1
ZIMBABWE
Home Is Always Near
Ben’s Grandma said she had never forgotten Jenny, her best friend at school, even though she disowned her in favour of Linda Palmer. She said the friends who turned you away are often the most irreplaceable.
Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost
Morning is Ben’s favourite time in Zimbabwe.
He has been here five days. Each of the mornings so far, he wakes before the other volunteers and stands on his hut’s wooden decking in shorts, surveying what he secretly calls his: his sunrise, his land, his refuge. With only the hum of his roommate Simon’s snoring, and the buzz of insects, at this moment it is his. No one else rises this early to watch the colours come to life; no one else witnesses the sky turning from ash into flame, or the trees from shadow into textured browns, like a tray of different flavoured toffees.
Ben enjoys the solitude of dawn more than the merriment of evening, when the volunteers prepare food and discuss the day’s events around a roaring campfire pit, eyes orange in the glow. He enjoys it more than the two walks he has done with the lions in the enclosures.
The lions here look nothing like those he has seen in the circus or watched on TV documentaries. The first time Ben saw one pacing the enclosure fence five days ago – when he was dropped off with other new volunteers in a rickety bus – he thought it must have been the sun that lit his orangey fur with fire, or that the deep shadows had somehow inflated his size. But as he warily approached the high fence for the first time to look more closely, he realised that it was probably contentment that so increased him; being in a more natural environment than a circus ring gave him beauty.
Now Ben stretches, offers his skin to this new day, scaring a skittish split-lipped hare loitering by a thorny scrub. He laughs. The hare freezes for a second and then lollops off. Beyond them both, black against the dawn, tepee-shaped lodges zigzag like teeth. Behind it are the fenced grassy enclosures where cubs live before they are moved to the surrounding ten-thousand-acre park to learn how to hunt and return to the wild.
This is the Liberty Lion Rehabilitation Project. It is the kind of place Ben has wanted to visit since he was eleven. The kind of place about which he read endlessly before signing up. Just forty miles from Victoria Falls, the project site is parallel to the Zambezi River. The area was a hunting ground once, where warthogs and wildebeest were shot by cross-border trophy hunters. Now a national park, its riverbanks are a catwalk for elephant, buffalo herds, and lone antelope, which amble in the heat and dust, safe now from those guns.
This land is a temporary asylum for Ben.
He closes his eyes. The musky smell of hot animal fur drifts on the air. The muggy morning breeze seems to whisper something to him. He won’t listen. He didn’t come here to listen. Or to think. Or to remember. But the breeze tugs at his shorts, whispers in his ear. It sounds like home, home, home.
Suddenly the smells of England that have faded since he got here come alive in the air, merging with lion shit and heat. His father’s cigarette smoke seems to rise from the parched ground. The stench of old beer has Ben opening his eyes again, sure there will be a pint sitting in front of him. He lets it in, just for a moment. He pictures the tiny bedroom; he sees the kitchen sink where he and his dad often argued; where they occasionally stood looking at the garden quietly; where Ben once dried dishes and talked about a future.
No. Shut it out.
He came here for the now. For this. He surveys again the new and beautiful land. Every day, every moment, he tries so hard not to think about…
The door creaks and Ben turns.
Simon emerges from the hut. Sniffing the air, he says, ‘I slept like a corpse,’ just as he has every morning since their arrival, and then breaks wind heartily. A solicitor from Essex, he’s on a break from his tricky divorce. He said on the first day that he would stay here until the mess was sorted out.
Ben’s ownership of the dawn is over.
‘How long you been up?’ Simon asks.
‘A while. It’s so hot I just toss and turn.’
‘I noticed.’ Simon breaks wind again. ‘You’re bloody lucky I don’t knock you out of your bed, all the noise you make.’
‘What do you mean? Do I snore?’ Ben never has before.
‘No. You shout out all kinds of crap.’
‘Do I?’ Ben’s heart feels tight. ‘Like what?’
‘Can’t tell. Doesn’t make any bloody sense.’
Ben exhales.
Simon narrows his eyes at him. ‘Might be something about…’ he whispers, ‘…bury the bodies … hide the evidence…’
Ben tuts. ‘Yeah, right.’
Simon laughs. ‘I’m off for a shower.’
Ben is sure he has never cried out in his sleep before. Certainly no one has ever told him he does. Shit. Time to eat. Time to forget the dawn. Time to start the day.
By the time he arrives for breakfast in the communal lodge, the thermometer reads twenty-five degrees and flies have begun their constant climb. Breakfast is cold meats, fruit, and muesli, and will precede the daily enclosure cleaning, the bottle-feeding of cubs, and lion walking. Volunteers groggily exchange pleasantries at long, bare tables and, as is now habit, bemoan the early hour.
Esther Snelling carries a plate of fruit and a mug of the thick coffee served from metal jugs and joins Ben where he sits alone at the far end of a table. A Newcastle NHS nurse who arrived two months earlier, she tells anyone who asks that she has come to care for animals instead of people, who swear at her and expect antibiotics for every ailment.
She nods at Ben and starts to eat her melon.
‘Can’t get used to this,’ she says, hair unbrushed around her face, lips glossy with the juice, one hand fanning her face. ‘They said December would be about twenty-five, but it’s been thirty-five most days. A freak heatwave or something.’
‘I can’t imagine it not being hot now.’ Ben stirs his muesli.
‘To think I grumbled about the weather in England.’
‘I bet you’ll do the same again.’
‘Maybe.’ Esther pauses. ‘I guess I’m a bit homesick today.’
‘Understandable. You’ve been here…?’
‘Twelve weeks.’ Esther shrugs. ‘Isn’t it weird how quickly you forget home, though? I mean, when you first get here and it’s all really mental and new, you just don’t have room in your head for it. And then … you have one of those days…’
‘You do.’
It is as though, for the first few days, Ben has closed the door on England, but now it’s open just a crack. He can see his dad’s house today. And now – suddenly acutely vivid – the place he lived before he came here. The place that smelt of bread on Wednesdays and had a 365-new-words-a-year calendar on the fridge and books in the living room. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to push it away, but sees a flash of silver, rusted slightly. A box. A lid. Too big.
‘You okay?’
‘Huh?’ Ben realises Esther is talking to him.
‘You were miles away.’
‘Tired,’ admits Ben.
‘That all?’
He nods.
On the first night, while relaxing by the campfire, most new volunteers share their reasons for being here. It’s almost a rite of passage. Esther admitted to Ben that she had said it was to escape a nursing job she’d come to hate, but that really there was a boyfriend she had left at home. Greg. ‘A knobhead’ was her description. Most volunteers came out with clichés about wanting to make a difference. Some, like her, were more honest, and admitted they were getting over a break-up or escaping a tedious job.
When project leader Stig looked Ben’s way that night, asking the question, Ben said, ‘This place means freedom to me.’
Then he cringed. How fucking corny. Sounded like Braveheart or something. But he wanted to give a vague enough answer to avoid the truth. Maybe he should have just said that he’d promised his mum when she died twelve years before that he would do this one day. That was the truth, just not the full truth.
Stig had held his gaze, waiting perhaps for more.
No one knows Stig’s real name. He has been Liberty’s course leader for ten years and lost most of his left hand to a lion called Bertram. When he speaks, it is always as though he is addressing a full room, even when there’s only you and him. It is like he sees himself as a lion when he puffs up his chest, shakes his long hair, and bellows facts.
He turned to the circle of new volunteers that night and asked them, ‘What does freedom really mean?’
No one spoke, possibly not wanting to give a wrong answer on the first day.
‘Freedom here,’ said Stig dramatically, flinging out his arms as though to emphasise the vastness, ‘is the lions being able to hunt and mate so that the next generation of lions don’t need us at all. Some have said we’re interfering with nature. And they’re right. We are. I won’t deny that. But the lion population has dropped by fifty percent in the last two decades, and we want to rectify that.’
‘Even though we caused it,’ someone near Ben murmured.
‘As you probably all know, in the wild most lions don’t live much longer than fourteen years due to injuries from territorial fights and a lack of prey. With our help, however, they often reach twenty.’
The new volunteers nodded and applauded this.
‘So the lions know we’re their friends?’ asked a volunteer.
‘Oh, no,’ said Stig. ‘They are predators, not your friends. Never let down your guard. You’ll have to establish your position as leader of the pride; draw out the lion’s natural survival instincts while suppressing their desire to savage you. Tame them without changing what they are.’
Ben shook his head at that; surely that meant changing them.
‘You’re nodding but you don’t look sure,’ Esther is saying now.
Ben snaps back into the present.
‘I’m just tired,’ he repeats more gruffly than he means to.
She finishes her fruit wordlessly. Ben tries to think of something funny to say to lighten the mood.
‘This muesli is pure shit,’ he says after a while. ‘I reckon they use the sawdust from the enclosures.’
Esther doesn’t say anything. Ben stares at the remaining mush, glad they are no longer dry flakes that he’ll feel compelled to count.
‘I read once,’ he says, ‘that lions used to roam the entire globe.’
Esther looks thoughtful. ‘Even Newcastle?’
‘Even Hull.’
‘Jesus,’ says Esther.
‘There are a few pubs near me that they’d definitely liven up.’
Esther smiles. ‘A few near me too.’
Stig arrives and plonks himself opposite them with coffee and a plate of ham, and says, ‘Morning’, in his voice that can be heard by all. Soon he is joined by sixty-year-old Arthur, on his tenth voluntary trip, and a young florist called Jenny, who cries at night for her mum. Then John, the project vet, slides onto one of the benches.
‘We’ve had a call,’ Stig booms, his voice quietening the room. ‘One of our ex-volunteers lives not far from here and got word of two lion cubs chained inside a shack in a small village.’
A chorus of sympathetic ahhhs fill the air.
‘He’s been to investigate, and says they’re being tormented by local village children. No one has anywhere to keep them safe, or any idea where their mother is. They’re a brother and sister apparently.’
More ahhhs.
‘The female is particularly vulnerable and won’t let anyone near her.’
‘So,’ interrupts John, the vet, ‘we need two volunteers who are up for a fifteen-hour round trip to rescue the cubs and bring them back here. We’re gonna leave in an hour. Anyone?’
Somehow right, Ben thinks.
The words surprise him. They take him back to a library. To a mirror. A reflection. To a tapping foot. To the moment his life changed forever.
‘Anyone?’ repeats Stig.
The large room is surprisingly quiet. Perhaps volunteers prefer the relative safety of the project site and its daily routine. Tentatively Ben puts up his hand. This is the kind of adventure he has travelled here for, after all.
‘Great,’ booms Stig. ‘Who else?’
Esther immediately attaches her own bravery with a raised arm.
‘Nice one,’ says Stig. ‘Get a good breakfast inside you – you’ll need it.’
In silence, Esther and Ben finish their meal.
‘If this doesn’t get me right in the thick of it, nothing will,’ he says, as they carry their empty plates to the stacking area afterwards.
She nods. ‘I’m nervous though. Never left the site.’
‘Yeah. Me too.’
‘We’ll meet at the front gates in an hour,’ calls Stig, on his way out. ‘Pack whatever you might need for such a journey. We’ll bring the camping gear and food and stuff, don’t worry about that. We’ll sleep a few hours there and return in the early hours.’
‘This is it then,’ says Esther.
This is it, thinks Ben.
2
ZIMBABWE
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Ben could turn rubber balls into snow and frogs into rainbows, all from his wheelchair – but lion taming proved much more of a test.
Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost
Ben returns to his hut. For a moment, he regrets agreeing to go on the expedition. Is it too soon, after only five days, to be involved in such a huge endeavor? No. It isn’t. It is exactly what he came here for. Beneath the trepidation, his excitement grows.
But what to take? A book? He didn’t bring one, and anyway he will be too distracted to read. How about a pen and paper? Should he use the time to write his first letter home? No. He isn’t ready for that, not by a long margin. But maybe he will want to record some of his thoughts on the journey; write up what he sees and experiences.
He throws a pad, a pen, and a change of clothes into a rucksack.
At the main gates there is an ancient jeep loaded with guns, medical supplies and a rusting cage. The engine throbs with worrying volume. Esther leans against the bonnet, wearing a green vest and shorts, hair plaited tightly, a pink rucksack at her feet. She picks nervously at her fingernails. Stig puts a hamper of food into the back seat while John checks the tyres.
‘I’ll take the first shift,’ says Stig, and jumps into the driving seat.
John takes the front passenger seat, and Ben and Esther climb into the back.
They pull away.
The red soil road stretches for miles, like a lesion splitting the land, which is dotted with baobab trees and rounded mountains known as kopjes. Ben gives up tallying them after the first hour. Occasional purple jacaranda trees and scarlet poinsettias have passed their full bloom but still light the journey with occasional luster. The seasonal rains nourish the plants, drenching the jeep twice on the trip. Once the clouds pass over, the sun dries everything in moments, as though the water never even fell.
Esther sleeps at first. Ben is glad. He wants to concentrate on taking in this new land. He counts plenty of trees and mountains but only ninety-four other vehicles on the seven-hundred-mile round trip. Counting has always soothed him. The simplicity of ascertaining how many items there are – whether it is peas on a plate or cars on a road – somehow settles him.
‘What are you doing?’ Esther asks sleepily.
Ben realises he has been counting aloud, not doing it in his head. Embarrassed, he laughs it off. ‘Nothing.’ He pauses. ‘You’ve missed loads.’
‘Shall we play I Spy?’ she suggests.
‘I Spy?’ Ben glances at the mostly repetitive landscape. ‘Wouldn’t be a very long game.’
‘When I was a kid,’ says Esther, vest strap falling off her freckled shoulders, ‘we’d play it differently to how others do. Like you could spy things you can’t actually see. So, I might say I spy a telephone box or McDonalds or the Eiffel Tower…’
Games without proper rules.
Ben has played these too many times.
‘Wouldn’t it take forever to get the answer?’ he says.
Esther looks at her watch, then at the land cooking in the buttery sun, and says, ‘We’ve got five hours.’
‘Might be less,’ says Stig. The smooth stump where his hand once was doesn’t seem to stop him from doing anything. It rests easily on the wheel. John dozes beside him, occasionally burping and making them all laugh.
‘Can’t be bothered with I Spy,’ says Ben.
‘Let’s see if this radio works, shall we?’ says Stig.
It doesn’t, but there is an ancient cassette player. Buried beneath empty water bottles, the only tape is a faded Beatles album, which they listen to ten times over. ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ will forever take Ben back to the dusty road, to the smell of warm sweat and petrol and unfamiliarity.
‘What can we expect?’ Ben asks Stig.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Will these cubs be dangerous?’
‘Depends if we’ve been given the correct age,’ says Stig, ‘but at three months they will be pretty hefty – bigger than a large housecat. And they’ll certainly be able to give a nasty bite.’
‘You know the ones we rear from birth?’ says Esther. ‘I understand the intention is for them to learn to hunt and then go free – but if we kept them, you know as pets, would they be safe? Would they ever attack us, or would they always know us, and know we were the ones who brought them up so to speak?’
‘No matter what environment you raise a lion in,’ bellows Stig over the music, ‘you are never one hundred percent safe. They will still be wild and still act on their instincts. The need to hunt and kill never dies. No matter what. And if you get in the way of that…’
Ben exchanges a yikes look with Esther
‘Still don’t fancy I Spy?’ she asks after a while.
‘Jesus,’ he responds gruffly, not quite sure why he feels so irritated. ‘What’s with you and that game?’
‘Just takes me back to when I was a kid.’
‘I don’t want to play a fucking game.’
‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ snaps Esther. ‘It was only a suggestion.’
‘Nothing.’ Ben realises he sounds like a petulant child and is glad the music gives them a little privacy in the back.
‘Well, something is.’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Ben regrets his harshness but being questioned about his sudden mood irritates him beyond belief.
‘Nothing,’ she says sadly.
‘So drop it then.’
‘You can be such a dickhead,’ Esther hisses.
‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, get over yourself.’ She crosses her arms. ‘I bet half the people at the project have come away from some sort of shit back home. But none of them mope about like you do.’
Stig glances over his shoulder, so she lowers her voice, leans closer to Ben.
‘You should be grateful I even talk to you. Seriously.’
Ben doesn’t know what to say. Does he really mope? He knows he hasn’t made as many friends as some of the volunteers with whom he arrived five days ago have. He just hasn’t felt the need to. Esther is the only one whose company he enjoys and now he has been a complete bastard to her. He hates being this way. He wants to enjoy being here. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe it was too soon.
Too late. He’s here.
‘You don’t have to talk to me,’ he says quietly.
‘Okay then.’
For fifteen minutes they ignore one another, each looking out of the window. Ben tries to think of something light to say to show he knows he was a grumpy bastard.
Eventually Esther says, ‘Do you know what Greg said when I told him I might come here?’
‘What?’ asks Ben, more pleasantly.
‘He said, “What the fuck for? You’ll probably get eaten or catch AIDS.” Nice, eh?’
Sounds like my dad, Ben wants to say, but doesn’t.
Instead he laughs.
‘My family were dead happy about me coming here though,’ Esther says. ‘How about yours?’
‘Mine?’
Ben doesn’t want to think about it. He doubts Esther would believe it if he told her what happened back home. He still can’t, even after turning it over in his mind, after taking it apart and putting it back together again a different way. It’s like the stories he used to read in his mum’s discarded magazines – tales he was sure they made up to shock.
‘They weren’t bothered,’ he says eventually. After a pause, he adds, ‘Okay … I spy something beginning with … b…’
Esther scans the landscape. ‘Blackpool Tower.’
‘Shit! How’d you know?’ laughs Ben.
‘I’m a total pro at this game … Okay … I spy something beginning with A…’
The game lasts an hour.
The sun is dipping low in the sky as they arrive at their destination. At the small village they meet Chuma Hondo, the man who has the two cubs in a wooden building behind his café. Though English is the primary language in Zimbabwe, due to its status as a British colony, only a small percentage of the population speaks it. Chuma tells his story in Shona, one of the country’s dominant languages. Stig translates.
Apparently, the cubs were found after their mother was shot for stealing livestock from a local farmer, and though it’s not ideal, Chuma has been keeping them in the small hut for their safety. Even as he speaks, children steal up on the other side of the slatted wall and push sticks between the gaps and yell what are clearly insults. Chuma wipes his hands on a filthy apron and shoos them away.
‘Right,’ says Stig. ‘Let’s get those poor buggers out of there and ready for their big journey.’
Ben has never physically handled a lion cub and now he’s suddenly terrified. Perhaps sensing it, Esther puts a hand on his sunburnt arm. He looks at it and then her; she is beautiful in the golden light, almost a lioness herself.
‘You’ll have to get close to the cubs to do this,’ says Stig.
He and John lead the approach to the hut.
‘If they’re only three months old they should be manageable. But only just. And they’ll be mad as hell.’ Stig looks at them both. ‘Are you ready?’
They nod.
Stig opens the rickety door. The stench hits them all first. Clearly no one has cleaned up after the poor creatures. The two cubs are each strangled by a chain barely a metre long and make feeble attempts to climb the walls of their prison, then fall and swing their paws in rage and frustration. Ben follows Stig, with Esther close behind.
Tan-brown and gold, with flecked legs, the cubs are perhaps twice as big as a large house cat, and considerably noisier. Ben didn’t expect their roars to be so powerful yet. They growl savagely at the approach of four more strangers.
‘I reckon they are about three months old,’ Stig says, bending down near the male, who growls and yanks on his chain. ‘They’re pretty small for their age, so they’ve probably not been fed well. But at least that means the journey back in that cage won’t be too cramped for them.’
John adds that there’s enough tranquiliser if needed – to give them a more peaceful trip.
Getting them into the crate that will transport them is not easy. The pair swing their paws, clawing at whoever comes near. Stig suggests two of them restrain the boy so they can first remove the girl, but he bites John – fortunately not puncturing the skin, only leaving marks – so they try to remove him first.
‘A brother’s love, eh?’ says Esther. ‘Just looking after his sister.’
Once they are safely ensconced, Ben kneels and peers inside. The lioness stares back, wary and desperate. The boy cub’s growl is a low, rumbling warning that he will protect her, no matter what.
Ben recalls the balding lions he saw six months ago, in the circus back home. How can it be six months? They had barely responded to the lion tamer’s cruel taunts, or the crack of his sharp whip. The fight had been knocked out of them. These two still have a chance to maintain theirs though.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ says Esther, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder.
‘Huh?’
‘Look at her glaring at you.’ Esther chuckles. ‘Reckon you could tame her?’
I could be a lion. You could tame me. Think you can get me to lie down?
The words come to Ben softly, as though whispered in his ear.
The small cub growls.
‘Isn’t she best left wild?’ Ben says quietly.
‘Always so serious,’ says Esther. ‘I was only messing with you.’
‘It was easier than we thought so we’re not going to bother sleeping here.’ Stig secures the padlock on the cage. ‘John says he’s fine to drive, so we’re gonna head back. You guys ready?’
The small group departs, dust billowing like ghostly balloons in the jeep’s wake. The village people clamour to spy the cubs one last time, tapping on the windows and waving, and then cheering at a last snarl from the now-sleepy siblings.
‘What do you reckon we should call them?’ John asks after a while.
The jeep bounces over the uneven road surface, its engine juddering occasionally as though it might die. Stig snores vigorously in the front passenger seat, and Esther has curled up in the back, her mouth sagging open as she breathes softly. The spittle on her chin catches the dusk light.
‘I was thinking we should maybe call the boy Chuma after the guy who saved them,’ John says. ‘You agree?’
‘Yes,’ says Ben. ‘That’s a cool name.’ He thinks a moment. ‘Then I guess the girl has to be Lucy. You know, like in “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”.’
‘Nice one,’ says John.
Ben settles back in his seat. He notices the pen and paper in his open rucksack and for a moment considers writing a letter. Who to? He certainly doesn’t want to write to his dad. Doesn’t know if he ever will. Perhaps he could write something and never send it? Perhaps if he does his moods will stop swinging so dramatically and his sleep will be less restless?
But nothing comes to him.
He is exhausted.
Instead Ben looks up at where the stars trail their trek home – the sky is an ebony blanket that they decorate with dots of happiness and sadness. A year ago, he would never have seen things in such a poetic way. He would have merely counted the stars or pointed out all the constellations he recognised, but he looks at everything differently now.
‘Aren’t they stunning?’ says John, pulling him from his thoughts.
‘They are.’
Ben doesn’t think he has ever been as happy or as miserable as he is now. He is overjoyed to have come to the place he has always wanted to visit. He can imagine his mum watching him, knowing he fulfilled the promise he made all those years ago. But wrapped up in that is what happened back home.
When Ben thinks of the months before he came here, it makes him so sad that he is once again compelled to count the pieces of food on his plate, the maize and vegetables in his evening sadza; so sad that he once again thinks in what he has always described as mis-words; so sad that he almost wishes he had never come.
3
ZIMBABWE
A Name that Won’t Be Forgotten
Ben wasn’t sure he wanted to name his night-time lion, because then he might disappear.
Andrew Fitzgerald, The Lion Tamer Who Lost
Day seven begins as those before did and those after will; Ben on the hut decking in his shorts, watching his glorious sunrise, trying to adapt to the relentless heat, and to recover from another night of tossing and turning. This alone time he cherishes even more now because it is also the coolest time of day.
The temperature has definitely increased since he arrived and has him accidentally misnaming other volunteers and needing to shower twice daily. Even the gentlest activity results in damp clothes and a salty forehead. He is glad that this time of year is the rainy season; that the brief torrential downpour each afternoon cools the skin.
‘How long you been up?’ Simon makes Ben jump.
‘Not long,’ Ben lies.
He has become a great pretender; not so much a liar, more an evader. Since their reluctance to share that first night around the fire, even the quiet volunteers have opened up a little now. This place seems loosen them up after a few days, make them more honest about their private lives. Perhaps it is the vast space, the distance from home, or being among total strangers. Not Ben. He listens, fascinated, but says very little.
‘You’re an odd one, Roberts,’ says Simon.
‘Am I?’
‘Always in a bloody world of your own.’ He studies Ben. ‘I have my theories.’
‘You have?’
‘Yeah. I reckon you’re a serial killer. It’s always the quiet ones. You’ve come here to avoid the police, haven’t you?’
Ben laughs. ‘This heat’s making you delivious.’
‘Delivious? What the hell does that mean?’
‘I never said that…’ Ben blushes. His old habit is back, full force. Mis-words.
‘What then?’
‘Delirious,’ says Ben after a thought.
‘Whatever.’ Simon laughs again. ‘Anyway, one of these nights you’re gonna reveal all.’
‘What?’
‘In your sleep. When you talk.’
Ben’s heart tightens. He wishes he had his own room.
‘The bodies,’ laughs Simon. ‘Off for a shower, see you later.’
Simon goes into the hut and Ben heads off to the communal lodge for breakfast. Esther is already there, with a plate of fruit and a bowl of cereal in front of her. He wonders whether to sit with her or not.
The previous five mornings she has joined him as they eat the gritty muesli, and she always brings him coffee when they clean out the enclosures together. She saved him a space by the campfire last night, patting the spot on her bench. Ben sat with her. As Esther chatted about their adventure rescuing Lucy and Chuma, Ben’s attention drifted as it so often does. When he looked up, she had joined the other volunteers to play cards. Ben knew he deserved it but didn’t want to lose his one good friend. Esther looked over at him, eyes sparking in the nightly flames.
Did she seem interested in more than being just friends? Ben has never understood women very well. He wonders if his lack of interest fires her; that she thinks he’s playing a flirty game. His university friend Brandon – from what now seems like years ago – once had a theory about lack of interest being the best invitation.
Ben escaped the campfire then and walked the perimeter of the enclosure fence, the night hot with musky animal scents. Round and around he walked, until his legs ached.
‘You okay?’ It was Esther.
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re really quiet tonight.’
‘Just tired,’ Ben said, his usual lame excuse for everything.
‘Let’s sit then,’ she said, stopping at one of the many benches that line the fence. They did.
‘Are you mad that I called you a dickhead?’
‘What?’ Ben laughed. ‘When?’
‘In the jeep.’
‘God, no. I was being a dickhead.’
‘You know something funny,’ said Esther. ‘When I came here I left my boyfriend Greg in the middle of the night while he was sleeping, just to avoid the fight that would happen if I’d told him I was going.’
‘Shit. Bet he was shocked when he woke.’
‘I left him a note,’ she grinned. ‘Dear Greg, remember to put the bins out and the tea towels are in the middle drawer.’
