Pictures of Lily

for Ben was real. It was. I’m sure of it.
    Then suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a male zookeeper with sandy blond hair come out of a hut by the kangaroo enclosure and go round the corner in the opposite direction. My heart lurches. Ben!
    Of course it isn’t!
    It was him – I know it.
    ‘Just going to nip to the loo,’ I say to the girls, and hurry off before they decide to join me. ‘Back in a tick!’
    I rush through the gates and forget to close them so I have to turn around and swing them shut before looking wildly to left and right. Where did he go?
    It’s not him. It’s not him. I chant this over and over to myself to prepare the way for my impending heartbreak.
    There he is!
    I halt on the spot. He has his back to me. He’s wearing typical keepers’ attire of beige shirt and khaki shorts.
    It’s not him. It’s really not. He looks different. Broader. His hair is shorter. No. It’s not him. My heart sinks and a lump forms in my throat, but still I can’t walk away.
    The sandy-haired keeper turns around, his head down, and then he looks up, straight at me, and my whole head spins and I feel like I’m going to faint.
    Because it is him.
    It’s Ben. I’ve found him.
    He stares at me, stunned. My head is tingling and the ripples spiral all the way down my body to my toes. I can’t look away. I can’t move. I can’t do anything except stare back in total shock.
    He’s twenty feet away from me, and when his lips mouth my name I can’t hear him, but I manage a slight nod of my head and then he’s walking towards me and my heart is pounding and my stomach is cartwheeling over and over and over again, and then he reaches me and I’m gazing up into his deep-blue eyes, unable to say anything.
    ‘Lily?’ He speaks so quietly it’s almost as though he’s scared to say it out loud.
    My voice has hidden out somewhere so all I can do is nod again, dumbstruck to my core. He looks almost the same as he did ten years ago, but more manly somehow – and I didn’t think that was possible.
    ‘I can’t believe it,’ he says, his eyes searching mine. ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘My sisters . . .’ My voice sounds husky. ‘My sisters are here on holiday.’
    ‘Do you live in Sydney?’
    ‘Yes.’ I have to clear my throat.
    A male keeper with dark hair steps out from an office to Ben’s right. ‘Ready?’ he asks.
    Ben glances at him, startled by the disruption. ‘Be there in a minute.’
    His colleague disappears behind the building.
    ‘I have the day off on Monday,’ Ben says urgently. ‘We could get a coffee – go for lunch?’
    ‘Yes,’ I manage to say.
    He’s still staring at me. Suddenly he seems to come to life. ‘Do you have a card or something? Some way for me to contact you?’
    ‘No. Do you?’
    He produces a wry smile. ‘Me? Business cards? No.’ He digs into his pocket and pulls out a scrap of paper. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a pen?’
    I rummage around in my bag and luckily can locate one. He leans the paper against his knee and scribbles on it before handing it over.
    ‘Here’s my number. Will you call me to arrange something?’
    I nod and take it. The keeper comes out from behind the building again and stands there, waiting. Ben raises his hand in acknowledgement of him before turning to me.
    ‘I’ve gotta go.’ He sounds reluctant.
    Again, all I can do is nod.
    ‘Please call me. Please,’ he implores, and then he turns away and walks off with his colleague.
    Something happens to my stomach. Or is it my heart? It feels as though someone has cut me open and is ripping out my insides. I want to scream, ‘No! Don’t go! Don’t leave me again!’ Suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe, and I’m gasping for air.
    Then, deep inside my mind, the voice of reason speaks. You have his number. You are going to see him again. You know where he works .
    Finally I remember my sisters.
    It’s this last thought that keeps me together and I manage to walk away, tightly clasping the piece of paper in my hand. When I reach the gates to the kangaroo enclosure I stand and look in, feeling a sense of relief as I see the girls feeding the kangaroo. Even Kay is kneeling on the ground. I glance down at the number in my hand and flip over the piece of paper. It’s a supermarket receipt. I scan the contents of Ben’s shop on . . . yes, there it is, 20 April. Bread, butter, milk, Vegemite, frozen pizza, beer . . .
    Wait!
    Was he wearing a wedding ring? I