Goblin

by Ever Dundas

‘Why?’ I said.

  ‘Dead things can’t die,’ she said.

  I nodded, as if I understood.

  ‘Sit,’ she said, and I sat. She shuffled off, a small troop following her even in the house. She brought me some tea and a biscuit. I inspected it for pigeon shit and shoved it in my mouth.

  ‘You got more biscuits?’

  ‘You hungry? You can stay for dinner.’

  I shrugged, sipping my tea. A pigeon scrambled up my leg, its claws digging into me. I let it be and it stood on my knee, eating seeds from my hand. It settled on my leg, falling asleep, looking up at me suspiciously anytime I moved an inch. I drank my tea and stared at Pigeon. I squinted at her, trying to see the pigeons in her hair.

  ‘They’re sleeping,’ she said, seeing me look at her head. ‘All asleep in their nest. I can feel them, their little warm bodies. He likes you,’ she said, gesturing at the sleeping pigeon on my knee.

  I stroked his head. He cooed at me. I looked up at Pigeon, not sure if he was happy or annoyed with me. She smiled and nodded.

  ‘He likes you,’ she said.

  ‘What’s that?’ I said, pointing to a mummified creature next to my chair. I leaned over and stroked its head the way I’d stroked the pigeon, almost expecting the mummy-creature to coo at me too.

  ‘A shrew,’ she said.

  I kept stroking it, willing it to coo.

  I didn’t know what to say to Pigeon, so I just sat, stroking the shrew and staring round the room. There were framed photos everywhere, of what looked like Pigeon and her family. They were in-between all the mummy creatures, but I didn’t pay much attention to them, except to notice they were the only things not covered in pigeon shit.

  ‘Do you like stories?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I’ll tell you stories. I’ll tell you all about London,’ she said. ‘Of the realm below and the realm above.’

  She paused, arching her eyebrow.

  ‘Did you know,’ she said, ‘lizard people live in the realm below?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘They hide away in the myriad of tunnels and caves in the depths of London. It’s their kingdom, where the Lizard Queen and Lizard King rule. They eat the big black insects that live there too. They’re as big as my hand.’

  Pigeon raised her hand, spreading her fingers.

  ‘And the lizard people eat them – crunch! Do you know what would happen if they didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The insects would multiply and take over the realm below and the realm above.’

  ‘Like in the bible,’ I said, ‘in Revelation – “And there came out of the smoke locusts upon the earth and unto them was given power, as the scorpions of the earth have power… And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit.”’

  ‘That’s right. You understand, don’t you?’ said Pigeon, smiling and nodding. ‘London would be ruled by these insects, but we have the lizard people. They come to the realm above, in the form of humans. But I recognise them, I know them. You can tell by their eyes. They keep their lizard eyes, and they glint emerald, all shades of blue, sometimes red. They come from below and they feed off the rays of the sun. The lizard people,’ she said, ‘are demigods. Part-god, part-divine.’

  ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.’

  ‘Shall I tell you of the realm above?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Have you heard,’ she said, ‘of the Queen of Hearts? It is said,’ she said, leaning over and raising her eyebrows, ‘that Queen Isabella walks these streets carrying the heart of her husband. But it’s not true. The heart is pinned to her dress like a brooch. It still beats, dripping blood, staining Isabella’s dress, leaving a trail on the ground. I’ve seen her,’ she said. ‘She haunts these streets.’

  *

  ‘I’ve seen her,’ I said. ‘She haunts these streets. Huge pins stab through her husband’s heart and pierce right into her own heart. She wears it like a brooch, but its alive, still beating, dripping blood.’

  Mackenzie and Stevie stared up at me, their mouths hanging open. They fell about laughing.

  ‘I’ve seen her, I have! She haunts these streets, collecting blood for her husband’s heart, to keep it fed.’

  ‘Yeah, Goblin, uh-huh, I bet you’ve seen her.’

  ‘You better watch out,’ I said.

  We poked the fire with sticks, biting into our apples, the juice dribbling down our chins. I imagined biting into a heart. Eating human flesh.

  ‘I’ll tell you another,’ I said. ‘You know Amen Court? There’s a dog that prowls Amen Court, a black dog, as big as a horse, with dripping jaws. This dog wants revenge, he wants human flesh. But he didn’t used to be a dog. He was a man called Scholler and he was a prisoner in Newgate, where the inmates were starved. They were so hungry that they turned on Scholler and ate him alive!’

  Mackenzie and Stevie were spitting out apple and rolling on the ground. Mac grabbed Stevie and barked at him, biting his leg. Devil joined in but got confused when Mac tried to bite his hind legs. He whined and sat down, licking his paws.

  ‘Lay off Devil, Mac. He doesn’t know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Jesus, he’s a dumb dog. Hey, Devil, eh? No hard feelings.’

  Devil laid his head on Mac’s knee and we poked the fire with our sticks, watching the flames in silence.

  ‘Any more stories, Goblin?’

  ‘There’s a spectre that haunts Newgate Prison,’ I said. ‘Her name is Amelia and she was a prisoner in Newgate too, just like Scholler. Do you know why she was locked away?’

  ‘She killed a man!’

  ‘She ate Scholler!’

  ‘Much worse,’ I said. ‘Much worse. She ran an orphanage. She was paid by the local Parish to take in homeless kids. They thought she was looking after them so they paid her money to house them and clothe them and feed them, but she wasn’t doing that at all, she wasn’t. She took the money but she killed them. Killed all those kids and kept the money for herself. Some of the younger ones she put in a sack and drowned in the river. She got found out and put in jail and was executed and now she haunts the streets looking for children to kill.’

  Stevie looked nervous, but Mac pretended it didn’t bother him at all. ‘She wouldn’t kill us,’ he said, poking at the fire with a stick, ‘we’d stab her with hot sticks.’

  ‘You can’t stab a ghost,’ said Stevie.

  ‘Can so,’ said Mac.

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘You can if they take corporeal form,’ I said.

  ‘What’s a corprill form?’ said Stevie.

  ‘Flesh,’ I said, leaning over and pinching Stevie’s arm.

  ‘Hey!’ he said, waving his stick at me.

  I backed off.

  ‘But you’d need a magic spell to make them flesh again.’

  ‘Told you,’ said Stevie.

  ‘I was still right, though,’ said Mac.

  ‘So was I.’

  ‘Was not.’

  ‘Was.’

  We were at the worksite everyday. Mackenzie and Stevie and me, we were like wild things. We tore through the streets with Devil, cutting down anyone in our path, scattering the Button kids, and landing in our den. The three of us played cowboys and Indians and I told stories as darkness came. We’d collect wood and make a fire in the centre of the den. Mackenzie would go scrumping before we met and him and Stevie would sit there, stuffing their faces with apples. I’d watch the juice glisten on their fingers. The light from the fire glittered in their eyes, casting shadows across their thin faces. I’d read them The Island of Doctor Moreau, a chapter each night, and the next day we’d run round the worksite pretending to be Beast Folk chasing Prendick. Sometimes I’d tell Pigeon’s stories of London, but not the lizards. They were secret. I only told stories of the realm above. I didn’t tell Mac and Stevie about Pigeon. I never told them where I got my stories from. Some nights we’d all hunch over The Phantom, a gift from my aunt in the U.S., who would cut the strip
from the newspapers, paste them together and send them to David. Pigeon had given me Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and I’d read bits out, but Stevie thought it was nonsense. Sometimes I read our favourite bits of The Time Machine or The War of the Worlds. None of us would miss our worksite meetings for anything and that summer stretched out forever.

  *

  After school I’d usually run home, pick up Devil and meet Mac and Stevie at the worksite, but Mac had to go visit some sick aunt and I wasn’t in the mood for just being with Stevie and didn’t feel like seeing Pigeon. So I went home, took Devil for a walk, and headed back again to read and listen to David’s records. When I got in, ma was in the kitchen holding a bloodied rag. She plunged it into the tub and scrubbed at it, frowning, a cigarette dangling from her mouth.

  ‘You okay, ma? You hurt?’

  She didn’t look up, she just said, ‘What’re you doing home again?’

  ‘Felt like it.’

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘You hurt yourself, ma?’

  She looked up at me.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t hurt myself.’

  She stared right at me, still scrubbing. Her eyes were too much, so I looked away.

  ‘Just going upstairs,’ I said, heading for the door.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Sit down, Goblin.’

  I turned back to her and she nodded to the kitchen table. I sat down and Devil jumped up on my lap.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, thinking over all the things I’d done the past few days, but I couldn’t think of anything that might have made her angry. Devil circled on my lap three times and flopped down, his back legs hanging over my thigh, his front legs and head dangling over the other side. I scrunched my hand into his fur, kneading at his back.

  She dropped the rag into the tub, poured herself a drink and sat opposite. She lit another cigarette and stared at me. I looked down at Devil and stroked his head.

  ‘How old are you now?’

  ‘Eight,’ I said.

  She nodded.

  ‘I didn’t want you, you know.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But you came and there I was stuck at home looking after a screaming goblin-runt. Nothing made you happy.’

  I felt my stomach go all tight and I just kept stroking Devil, trying to concentrate on how his fur felt.

  ‘Ma,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a book I need to read for school.’

  ‘You’ll sit right there until we’re done,’ she said.

  I looked up at her and she took a draw on her cigarette. She exhaled, the smoke engulfing me.

  ‘Women get the curse,’ she said.

  I stopped stroking Devil when I heard her say ‘curse’, thinking I was going to get something more interesting than the usual. I managed to look her in the eye as I waited for more and she finally said, ‘You’ll get it too when you grow up.’

  She smiled slightly, looking satisfied, and stared at me as she smoked. I couldn’t wait any longer so I said, ‘What curse?’

  ‘Women bleed. Every month. Their bellies ache and they bleed from between their legs. It hurts.’

  ‘I’ll get it too?’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘What if I’m not cursed?’

  ‘You will be. All women are. You’ll suffer like the rest of us.’

  ‘When will I get it?’

  ‘When you’re a woman.’

  ‘When’s that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anytime. It could afflict you anytime.’

  ‘Anytime?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘When were you cursed?’

  ‘Thirteen,’ she said. She must have seen my relieved expression as I thought how far away thirteen was and she added, ‘You might get it sooner.’

  She finished her drink and poured herself another glass.

  ‘Why are we cursed?’

  ‘So we can have babies.’

  ‘The blood means we can have babies?’

  ‘That’s right, but I didn’t want you. You came anyway and I was stuck here day after day with only you.’

  ‘How long does the bleeding last?’

  ‘A week. More or less.’

  ‘Don’t you die if you bleed for a week?’

  She laughed and shook her head.

  ‘But I almost died having you. Giving birth to a goblin almost killed me but you killed the midwife instead because you were so—’

  ‘I know, mum. I know the story.’

  ‘So ugly,’ she said.

  I waited for more but a few minutes passed and she said nothing. She smoked her cigarette and stared out the kitchen window. I lifted Devil off my lap and said, ‘I’m going upstairs.’

  She didn’t respond, just looked out the window.

  I went upstairs and sneaked into ma and da’s room, walking carefully, trying not to make a noise. The room was all ma – the smell of perfume and powder. I sat down at her dresser and looked at my face in her mirror, two more angles of me reflected either side. I scrunched up my nose. I bared my teeth. I leaned closer, pursing my lips like old Mrs West’s cat-arse mouth, then I puffed up my cheeks and laughed then went all serious again as I leaned forward and stared at my face right up close, looking at my brown-green eyes. I stared all wide then fluttered my lashes and did kissing noises. I went serious again and leaned in even closer, inspecting; cheeks speckled with freckles, big pink lips all dry. I stared at my small forehead but found nothing there either. I couldn’t see the goblin in me. I wasn’t ugly, I was sure of it, because I looked like ma and she was beautiful. I wasn’t beautiful, though. My face was dirty, my lips dry and cracked, my short self-cut blonde hair was greasy and sticking out at all angles. I looked like a dirty boy version of ma, but I wasn’t blue, I wasn’t goblin.

  *

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Maybe she can see under my skin and into my insides. I’m ugly inside and she can see it. Like sin.’

  David just stared at me, his mouth open slightly, then he said, ‘Fuckin ’ell, G,’ and got up off his bed and sat next to me on mine. ‘I knew all this bible stuff would be bad for you.’

  ‘She must be able to see inside because I looked in her mirror, looked really close and all I saw was that I look just like her but more like a boy and dirty. But I know I’m not ugly. I’m not,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘Am I?’

  He looked down at me and said, ‘Of course you’re not.’

  He shifted his arse on the bed until he was right next to me and he put his arm round my shoulder and squeezed so hard it hurt, but I didn’t mind.

  ‘Ma said blood makes babies come alive,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said women are cursed and every month they bleed. And the blood makes babies. But wouldn’t there be more babies if it was every month?’

  David laughed.

  ‘I don’t know much about the bleeding, G, but that’s not how babies are made. Think she’s just trying to scare you.’

  ‘I was scared at first, but I thought about it and I don’t mind blood and I don’t care if it hurts.’

  ‘Well, that’s good.’

  ‘But what about the babies?’

  David sighed.

  ‘You’re too young, G.’

  ‘Too young for what?’

  ‘To know about where babies come from.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s adult stuff.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Jesus, G. Give it a rest. I’ll tell you when you’re older, okay?’

  ‘I’ll be older tomorrow.’

  David laughed.

  ‘Just leave it be, alright? What’s the rush to grow up?’

  ‘I don’t want to grow up. Adults are stupid.’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  We sat for a bit and I leaned into him, resting my head on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat and said, ‘Why does ma hate me?’

  ‘Jesus, G. What is with you today?’

  ‘I was born blue and ki
lled that woman. Is that why?’

  ‘You didn’t kill the midwife, G. She was old, she just had a heart attack and it was hours after you were born. It’s not like ma says.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘You remember?’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘I wasn’t born blue?’

  ‘You were, but it was because the umbilical cord was tangled round your neck.’

  ‘What’s a umbila cord?’

  ‘Um-bil-ical. It’s something that keeps you attached to ma. When you’re born, they cut it. But you were all tangled up in it. You almost died. But it doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Why does she hate me then?’

  ‘I don’t know, G. It has nothing to do with you. It’s just the way it is.’

  ‘How do you know it’s not me?’

  ‘I just know.’

  I fiddled with my blanket and said, ‘I think da likes me.’

  ‘He does.’

  ‘I like fixing things with him.’

  ‘He likes it too.’

  ‘But he doesn’t really talk to me.’

  ‘That’s just the way he is. Look, G, forget about them. We have each other. And you’ve got Devil and Mac and Stevie, that’s all you need.’

  ‘And Pigeon,’ I said, without meaning to.

  ‘You befriended a pigeon now?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, blushing, not wanting to give my secret away.

  ‘Of course you have,’ he said, ruffling my hair. ‘Just don’t let ma and da’s bollocks get you down. It’s not worth it. Okay?’

  *

  Pigeon took me and Devil on long walks. For the first time I saw different parts of London. She took me on the Underground, hopping on and off, searching for lizard people. And, best of all, she took me to the circus.

  We were on one of our Underground trips and as the train pulled into the station we could see a row of clowns on the platform. They stood so still, all creepy like statues but with coloured-in faces and silly clothes and hair and hats. They stared out at nothing as Pigeon grabbed my hand, pulling me up to get off the train. Devil was the first on the platform, sniffing at them, tail wagging as they came to life, one of them throwing balls in the air and the others scrambling to catch them. Devil lay flat on his belly and growled at the mess of them that wasn’t a mess at all but clever as can be as they each caught a ball perfectly, freezing in position. Devil barked, Pigeon clapped, I gawped. I watched as a clown jerked to life again, perfectly-clumsily cart-wheeling to where we stood and offering us a fanned bunch of leaflets for the circus.