We see the travelling menagerie and she is amazed at the elephants, monkeys and a lion, the likes of which she has never seen before in her life. I watch the lion prowl before us, then sit obediently before the tamer as he commands him with his whip. I admire the bravery of the tamer, to face this majestic creature that stares at him through intelligent eyes and for some reason obeys him, whilst both lion and tamer know that at any moment, without motivation or fear of the consequence, the lion could decide to kill him and could do it in an instant. The tamer’s power over the lion is an illusion they both agree to, but who really decides? The lion chooses an easier life, to obey and be fed and not whipped, of course he does, but at what point will he change his mind? What would it take for him to decide it is not worth it? Does he remember his youth, the freedom he was taken from, the desire to hunt, procreate, kill? As I watch, I will him to have a memory, to forget the bars and cages, the whips and commands, and show us what made him the king of the animals. Miss Walker trembles as she watches, and I long for him to bite the tamer’s head off. Remind us that none of us can be contained, controlled, bullied without trying to break free. The lion tamer survives; the lion returns to his cage and is fed. I am somewhat disappointed.

After four joyous days we drive back home, watching out of the window as the gently rolling hills slowly grow in height until the familiar views loom up before us and the landscape turns dramatic. She comes with me to Shibden with no inclination to rush to her own home, which surprises me, and we settle in with the family, who are very accepting of Miss Walker’s presence. She retires early and my family rush to tell me how much better Miss Walker looks after her trip and ask what Doctor Belcome said. I wonder if they are nosy or genuinely care for her. Probably both. I see how easy it would be for her to slip into life here at Shibden.