Hello you. I hope you are doing well, and if you’re not doing well, I hope that what follows gives you an entertaining distraction from whatever is bothering you. Thank you for listening to this story. I hope you enjoy it, and I’m sorry I can’t be there to perform it for you in person. I normally tell it in front of an audience but I can’t second guess where you’re listening from. Maybe you’re at work. Maybe you’re at home. Where is your home? Maybe it’s where you were born, or where you lived now? Is it both? Is home more than one place for you? Do you remember leaving home? Do you remember how that felt? I remember feeling so happy. Like my life was just beginning. Have you ever left home, and found yourself having to come back sooner than you’d wanted to? That’s Kathy’s experience. Let me tell you about her. She’s 19 years old, just finished her first year of university. All her friends are in Thailand, but she couldn’t afford to go. She couldn’t even afford to stay in Glasgow, so she’s come home to her small town in the Highlands. One last question. When you have to come home, and you don’t want to be there, what method do you use to cope with it? Do you drink a lot? Take a long walk? Take something harder than alcohol? Kathy’s from the internet generation, so naturally she wants to have her cake and eat it. She’s decided to do all three. She’s spent her night on the beach, with some cans of cider and a few tabs of acid. Just by herself. On a solo mission. Where she lives is beautiful, there’s a forest right next to the beach. When you feel adventurous, do you stay on the beach or do you go into a dark forest? Naturally. In she goes. She gets a message from her friends in Thailand. One of them’s been to one of those tiger sanctuaries. As soon as the message arrives, her phone dies. That’s where this story begins.

phone dies completely alone so dark outlines in trees footsteps stick mud she nearly slips chews acid mixes in her blood before the message came the world was so cool for the first time since she’d moved back she was happy hunting frogs with the torch app on her phone she found an army camping by the vast forest pond stared and contemplated origin let her pupils make templates of their skin so happy then floating on the tide that flowed through the glen hearing summer drag the gentle ocean nothing could touch her she imagined life on earth when the land was covered by sea looked at the skin on her hands and thought of evolution undiscovered species always changing families and savagery the words of an Attenborough documentary delighted to be a mammal she heard the distant tidal sound and turned from it went deeper thicker trees elevated path the river got louder the message reawakening a world within her then snatching it away just after her phone died ten little speckled frogs jumped their warted hides into the pool leaving doubtful shapes to parlay with the thieving canopy that stole her stars her signal and her battery she’s not the sort to fear so quick but now she realises she’s tripping really hard and yes she knows the forest but it’s pitch black and her torch is fucked so all she’s got is an indistinct path and the sound of branches dredging up the river and a memory of being three years old lingering in the juice aisle bright plastic nebula of bottles sheer wonder at the colour then a fear stronger than the emptiness of space when she turned and couldn’t see her mother the panic an eternity finally when she heard the tannoy call her name it wasn’t louder than her heart it wasn’t louder than trolleys shifting apart or the thunder of the checkout lady’s laughter it’s not the drugs it’s not the dark this river’s going to flood she needs to get back to the park she needs to get out of the wood cos its cold cold dread when the moon doesn’t shine and she gets the feeling something is watching her behind laughter– definitely something on the water maybe she moves away from the river the wind whispers in her ear the voice of her father ‘Daughter, come inside. The snowman can wait. Come in we’ve lit a fire your uncle has a story just for you So come and warm your little cockles By the fire Kathy. Come on.’ She’s surprised by the strength of this memory And the anxiety it creates mirrored by fluctuating branches that look to dip in and out of the river And the path ahead vibrating like a loudspeaker a crest builds in her she holds her own hand that awful story fear she wants to turn away to drown the memory but she’s transfixed by the branches her eyes rearrange their reflection on the water the face of the tiger

Kathy! Like your PJs. Give your Uncle a kiss like, ya wee scamp. You ready? Then I’ll begin. No sae lang ago…like, just ootside a toun no sae far fae here, used tae be a sanctuary fir animals – Kiltarlin’ Wildlife Pairk. It wisnae a zoo like, nae exotic creatures tae speak of apart fae the llamas. Pure barry wi them lang necks. Fuckin bangin tae look at. Dinnae get too close though like! They spit like (spit sound) right in yer peepers. Ye’ve goat tae be careful Kath. They’re nae like us. Ye canny trust em. Here Kathy, sorry, don’t greet like, ah’ve no told ye about the folk at warkd there. They were guid folk Kathy, they cared fae the animals. Treated em better than some humans get treatit by ithers. Llamas were on their best behaviour maist ae the time. So turn that frown, upside down hen. Well, one day things were aboot windin’ doun, visitors had aw left, aw the kack was mucked oot n aw the keepers are aboot tae gang hame, when a pirple car pulls up wi’ a great big horse trailer on the back. The car stopped n a wee man ae Asian origin pops oot, begins unhookin this hing in the cair pairk. He looks terrified – you know the expression seen a ghost? Huv you seen wan Kath? You’ve gone pal hen. Aw the keepers came oot, puir polite, asked yir man whit he was dayin. My name’s Faridoon, he says. Uh’ve been roond the hail country trynae find somewan wud relieve this burden. Said there wiss an animal in the trailer but nae place wud tak it. Said yis are the last I’ve tried and yez seem like the best. I trust yeez, Faridoon says, tae dae the right thing here. He drives off, never…naw, drives back, unloads five full sides ae ham. Says ‘Should keep yir man knocked oot fir lang enough till yez figure out where tae keep him.’ Faridoon drives off, never to be seen again. Wull, the folk at the pairk were curious, so they undid the lock at the back and busted they horsetrailer doors wide, but nothing couldae prepared them fir whit they saw. Nae fuckin Tabby. It wiss a tiger Kath. A sleepin tiger but as soon as they opened that door guess what. His eyes slowly opened too. Fir 5 fill days n 5 fill nights they wark tirelessly building this enclosure, sleepin’ in shifts, feedin’ the tiger drugged ham when he shows signs ae stirrin’. When the wark’s done they shiftit the ‘hing intee a cage, pure heavy it wuz and most ae the keepers pure shitin’ themselves in case it chooses that moment tae wake. Aye so eventually the tiger comes to, sees its inside the cage, and starts roarin’, most terrifyin’ noise yes kid imagine. They distractit him and threw in massive hunks ae meat tae pacify. Word gets out, n everywin came fae even hunners o miles around tae see the great beast o Kiltarlin’, roarin’ and prowlin’ an lookin’ weird an out ae place, cos Kiltarlin or Scotland or even fuckin Europe’s no right fir tigers. Wull, wan day the keepers arrived, the morning hud ae sky o fuckin bright pink wi’ aw clouds offset like the scene ae some great battle. Like a painting it wuss. They hud preparet tae spend the morning lookin n takin pictures but as soon as they got oot the cairs, all they saw wiss death. The llamas hud hud their lang necks broken n’ chewed; one wiss disembowellt wi’ aw guts n’ gore hingin’ oot. Ither animals hud been chewed, huge bite mairks, severed airms n feet n face n blood blood blood blood fuckin everywhere, ‘n under that pink sky the the keepers greetit, then shakin’ wi fear they checkt the tiger enclosure ‘n it wiss jist metal chewed open, layers ‘n layers ae chewed metal. The beast was naewhere tae be seen. That night, the first child went missin’. Shite. Douglas! Kathy’s fuckin cryin again. Wiss jist a story like. Fuck’s sake.

the dreams started then an orange flash of fur a forest chattering a slip the tiger breathing hurricanes on her naked spine till the age of 9 she slept with the window shut like glass could stop a hunter fear does not exhaust children like adults they devote energy to it it drives them to their first acts of escapism a silver animal spouts from the hero’s wand not the wand the book drives the bad things away book over wand her patronus a stag not because that was harry’s but for the memory of waking from years of nightmres to sunlight on her face her father rushing in shouting look Kath there’s something in the garden and she looked and the deer softer than dew arching to the pond he had filled two months ago to drink and birds singing her headmaster had whiskers he made them write their patronus put it in a hat and they all repicked and did presentations after internet research she wrote stag and picked that word again scribed with sloppier handwriting and her presentation was better than his which copied sections verbatim from the Dorling Kindersley animal encyclopedia she wrote in her own words about stags how they shed antlers every spring and females they’re called Hinds choose a stag on the loudness of its roar in rutting season two Hinds are born for everyone one Stag people shoot them but they say there are too many I disagree she said it’s not fair for humans to decide that she refused venison when it was served became vegetarian earning the respect of the hippies on her mother’s side and confused looks from her Grandfather who sat in his grey house close to death only ever leaving for church and as the path lurches to an open clearing treetops bend to make a vaunting and twist themselves into seats and a pulpit before her eyes as she is swept away into family history her Grandfather shuts his eyes in the church no sin to sleep in the clearing ahead she sees him sitting with his squadron of Muslims and Sikhs

I need to explain something about Kathy’s Grandad. He was one of those men, maybe you know them, who served in the second world war but never spoke about it. She knew he had fought in Burma, which was a particularly savage theatre of conflict. Kathy had asked him questions but he made an art of evading them, or subtly practiced selective hearing. She only found out his full role in the war after she snuck into his house and looked through his old papers. She found two documents: a transcript of an interview, and an old letter. The first had been done by a Dr. Abilash Mukherjee of Aberystwyth University. Dr. Mukherjee was studying racial cohesion in the second world war. He wanted to speak to her Grandfather because he was a captain in the army – a much higher rank than her family had guessed. He was in charge of a mortar squadron. Dropping shell after shell after shell on the same Japanese position. Her Grandfather had deliberately avoided the parts of the questionnaire which dealt with violence. He must have felt responsible. The second was a letter written to his old friend, who he appeared not to have spoken to in years. The detail she remembered most vividly from that letter was the description of a marker on a military map. Point 451. The point just before Rangoon that they never reached, because their squadron was recalled just before the Indian army broke through. Her Grandfather, in compact and neat handwriting, expressed his disappointment at never having reached it. So that’s Kathy’s Grandad. Just to fill you in. in the clearing ahead she sees him sitting with his squadron of Muslims and Sikhs the army captain the forest ranger the failing father of her Dad rendered narcoleptic by his years sleeping head on shoulder of a turbaned man who locks eyes with her keeping watch he’s watching for the slightest movement in the trees man or beast he cannot tell the difference anymore she leaves the path and walks towards this warrior cast in muslin he fears no Japanese for he has defended sleeping British men from tigers in the night before and he knows his captain will assume command once more come morning light he will calibrate the mortar and they’ll shell the hill again all day until the only sound heard in the forest’s crackling wood and human screams she sits beside her Grandfather who rests before the next daily horror takes the young man’s hand he shifts his weight to her and to the moonlit canopy mouths in sleep the words of a song he never sung to her the song of point 4 -5 -1 the point he never reached before the Japanese surrendered to the bomb I’d like to sing that song for you now.

there’s a place you’ll see just past that blasted tree where rice flows heavy into bowls and the sound it makes is only sleep there’s a place my friend that you will know where bugs don’t bite and banyans grow where only gratitude and laughter will explode all it must take is a few more days of dropping shells break on through the battle line with me and we’ll be where we can unload these guns four five one four five one don’t be afraid to kill think of our dead friends will I know what you’ve seen makes it hard to dream we together walking side by side through narrow streets and smiling tide no more retreats no guilt to hide just silent peace all it must take is a few more days of dropping shells break on through the battle line with me and we’ll surpass even the rising sun four five one four five one and when we get home we won’t tell our sons four five one four five one don’t tell anyone

when he was done speaking and began lapping coos of sympathy for his ordeal she walked over with a pint of cider and tipped the lot on his head ‘I’m Peter’s sister’ she said ‘And you’re a fucking wank.’ pride rose within her she was proud to be kicked out proud of the reputation accrued and spread by town gossips one by one her friends followed her from the pub one swiped a bottle from their parents 75cl own brand supermarket vodka (!) they rode the wave of transgression into the forest up the path to the waterfall which she now turned away from for it was cold and she felt the bad thoughts welling through the static coin-marked tree another memory the waterfall and the consonance of Sam mid-spew the night they first hooked up she allowed herself to go back with him she was thirteen when Peter left her parents bought her broadband and a laptop she spent so many hours on MSN augmenting conversation with emoticons gorging herself on contact through new abbreviations these tools belonged to her to her generation she carved out her alliances with them ...

...identified herself through streaming music changed her onscreen name Nick Drake lyrics a day once dawned and it was beautiful a day once dawned from the ground the distance, artificial in the case of her small town in a school of seven hundred she got to know basically everyone moving between groups she found the boundaries were breaking down and she could be anyone she chose cinephile stoner it-girl reader PE master geek ringleader everyone got home logged in and spent their evenings in front of the computer typing to each other she first spoke to Sam that way it couldn’t have been another they first met when he smacked her ass as she walked past his friends at lunch she fixed him with fierce eyes ignored the jeers and watched his boldness wilt before her they didn’t have a class together for two years never spoke until his add came through to her account his email was avrillavigneisshit@hotmail.com she pressed accept and didn’t check the name started typing didn’t know it was him till he apologised expressed regret and she surprised herself by not holding a grudge they spoke typed late into the night the next day at school he seemed to be everywhere she was he must always have been there but she blocked him out through anger now he smiled at her across aqua-blue flooring and the corridors all turned red she logged in early just to see his name appear in her contacts then waited for him to speak to her she liked that he was unrefined but still inclined to talk about his feelings all the stuff that really mattered they disagreed on ecology he thought rare species should be allowed to go extinct she respectfully disagreed behind the scenes respective friends schemed to get them together they gathered in the forest in pretty awful weather everyone ran away so they were left alone a stolen flask of Vladivar the music on his phone he took her hand and told her he was crazy about her he wanted to kiss her he wanted to hold her she moved her face close to his till it couldn’t get closer she moved herself onto his lap arm around her shoulder it was pretty great till he threw up on her shoe so the moment she had dreamed of didn’t quite come true but he was feeling what she felt and that was pretty special too so they stuck together everything he did to demonstrate his love just made hers stronger they kept on speaking online helped each other through the shit times of standardised tests and future angst she was English, he was Maths together they amassed a bunch of unconditional offers they planned to be together they planned a holiday we deserve good weather they said I’m sick of sideways rain we’ll take a flight from Glasgow in Amsterdam touch down our love and the world is so much bigger than this forest and our town

Here’s how the trip went: in Amsterdam they got really high and laughed at a fat prostitute who showed them her vag through the window in Paris they drunk coffee every morning every evening rouge by the Seine mainly ate pizza underwhelmed by the Mona Lisa they stopped having sex it wasn’t easy to do that while staying in dorms you have to take your chances they took none she realised her feelings were decreasing when she looked out over at the Mediterranean from the Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde and caught the eye of a bearded man with scars on his face who stared at her with impassive French desire the fierceness of that boredom and restriction when Sam noticed she was looking at another man made her flare on the train to Cannes he rubbed himself against her trying to rekindle and for the first time since they’d kissed that night she craved loneliness she told him she didn’t feel like it especially not on this weird train she slept with the vibration on the tracks awoke and left the station feeling like a puritan as lukewarm rain fell on Italian flagstones Torino, Fiorenze, Roma Napoli, Trieste two weeks went by in a blur of churches wine, no sex and pizza all the architectural splendour coalesced into one dumb spine that stuck into her passion like the book in her rucksack that wouldn’t effectively pack the need to be alone and his cowardice in ignoring that fact his namby pamby affections and redundant cock nearly forced her from the night train at 3am when it stopped in Llubljana nearly they watched the Alps all the way to Vienna stayed in a good, cheap hostel made a lot of friends walked up a big hill with them drank beer at the top she saw Sam loosen up, enjoyed watching him make conversation watching him flirt with other women some of the feeling came back but not as strong as it was she started feeling like she needed to work at being with him he was a good man for these four last days in Berlin they would splash out on a hotel room and she would really try to keep on loving him tired from all the travelling they did inane things and she willed her love for him to be amplified by that city’s ugliness on their last day they both agreed to explore the history of the East they went to Prenzlauerberg to see the last remaining section of the wall read the exhibits first, then spent ten minutes on the grass just looking at it one piece of graffiti stuck out it said please don’t be angry when I’m not here for you love me like I love you, always and forever she read it a few times then turned to look at Sam who was looking intently at her he started trying to express himself the idea that something wasn’t right between them he only blamed himself incapable she kept reading the wall every word he spoke seemed to just repeat the same theme

Please don’t be angry when I’m not here for you. Love me like I love you, always and forever. When I love you please love me like I’m not here forever and don’t always be angry, for you don’t always love me. I’m not forever for you. Please be angry like I love you here and when I’m always here, be angry Love not forever please don’t like me when I love you for you love always and like forever I don’t please you be here for I’m not angry when you love me be forever here please and love always for you don’t love me when I’m not angry like you not here forever like you and when I’m angry please be you for love. I don’t always love me I don’t like me when I’m angry Love for you always love please be you forever and not here for love. Not forever here and please don’t be me I’m always angry like you when I love. Be angry please don’t love me like I love you always and forever when I’m not here for you. Please be here for me, I love you like forever always love I’m not angry when you don’t please me, I always like you here when you love me. Be angry forever, for love I don’t love you for always and forever when you don’t love me like I’m not here. Please be angry.

The speech didn’t leave her with much of a choice. She waited till she got back before she ended it. Straight to university alone but it was too close to think about now. Now she was home and all all that was left of her trip a fuzzy border round the eyes and the light before sunrise the sky shrugged off its canopy as she walked to keep her appointment with that wide expanse of sea which had elicited beautiful thoughts of biology before she started moving introspectively a kind of love a kind of relief to hear the noise of tide dragging once more on the rocks she didn’t want to leave but it was nearly five her mother would be waking soon she had to be in bed before then home another emotional restriction the acid made her free but she had spent the whole night not quite feeling freedom thinking of the people she would have to meet now she was back her watch told her she had another half hour she picked her favourite rock and sat listening to the sea the tiger came from the forest following her tracks she felt him breathe on her neck as he nuzzled her back he faced her she looked into his eye and saw herself reflected in that wilderness he yawned there was no purpose to her fear she felt it anyway he lay down beside her she rested her head on his belly which moved in time with the sound of the sea and as the sun came up they fell asleep that way –