Goblin

by Ever Dundas

  I stared into his huge painted face and plucked one of the leaflets from his hand, holding it like it might go poof! up in flames. He blew a raspberry at me and back-flipped over to the other clowns.

  Another train was arriving and they were statues again, not moving an inch. Pigeon ushered me on to the stairs and we went up into the glare of London above.

  ‘Can we go?’

  She looked stern, then winked and grinned, a wonderful grin of brown teeth, gaping holes, and cracked lips.

  ‘Of course we can,’ she said.

  I clutched the leaflet so hard it was crushed when I came to stick it on my wall next to Jesus and Mary and the saints.

  *

  We followed the buzzing crowd and the first thing I saw was the great tent, swooping up into the sky, the light of the gloaming making it pop – bright colours, bright lights. The pigeons in Pigeon’s hair were alert and chirping and she was swarmed with kids thinking she was one of the acts. She was kind and patient and let them feed the birds. I disappeared into the crowd, wandering from one ride to another, clutching at my pennies, deciding which one to spend them on. I finally chose and climbed into the seat and wheeeeeeee! I spun round and round and it felt like flying, really like flying. I was a Martian, a plane, an eagle swooping in for the kill. I came off, dizzy and happy. I looked for Pigeon but saw a painted man and followed him through the crowd.

  ‘Oi, Mister,’ I said. ‘Oi, Mister, how come you’re painted all over? How come the paint doesn’t just come off?’

  His eyes were a pale blue so light they were almost white. He knelt down in front of me, the ships and anchors and sea rippling and shifting as he moved. He leant his elbow on his knee and I was face to face with a mermaid with faded red hair.

  ‘It’s magic paint, boy.’

  ‘I’m not a boy,’ I said, ‘I’m a goblin.’

  ‘You don’t look like a goblin.’

  ‘Well, I am. I’d like to be painted like you, ’cept I’d have a Jesus.’

  ‘Right here, little goblin.’

  He turned and showed me Jesus on his back.

  ‘Just like that,’ I said. ‘Yeah, just like that.’

  ‘You come for the show?’

  I nodded vigorously.

  ‘You got your ticket?’

  ‘Pigeon has it.’

  ‘Pigeon?’

  ‘Yeah, she has it. I’ll need to find her.’

  ‘Pigeons and goblins. You belong here, boy.’

  He stood and yelled across the crowd, ‘Roll up! Roll up! The circus is about to begin!’

  I bobbed through the streams of people, searching for Pigeon. I found her amongst a gabble of kids and we clasped hands, keeping close as we were swept along with the crowd, swept into the magical realm of a glittering aerialist, purple sequins catching the light as she flew through the air. The platform statue-clowns bumbled and tumbled into the ring and I said, Pigeon, there they are! We’ve seen those clowns. There they are! And some old man behind me hissed ssssh! through his squint teeth and some woman said keep quiet, will you? But I always talked and talked and I forgot to keep quiet and they weren’t even listening to much of anything anyway, it was all to look at so what did it matter if I said, Pigeon, that elephant, that big as a house elephant looks stupid in that tiny hat on its huge house-head. The clowns clambered and fell on its back, knocking each other like skittles. The elephant sprayed them all sodden with water and they drip drip dripped and I jumped up and laughed and cheered. Down in front! said that stupid old man but I was down anyway by then, glued to my seat mouth hanging open as a lady on a horse, balanced on one arm, went round and round the ring. Then me and Pigeon laughed and clapped like mad as the dogs all jumped through hoops and last of all out came the painted man holding a sword above his head and I squeezed Pigeon’s hand and said, I know him. I know that man! He has Jesus! Holy, Holy, Holy, I said as he walked around the ring, all great strides and flexing muscles before gripping the sword with both hands, his head back. There was a gasp from the crowd as he lowered it into his mouth and I said nothing but held Pigeon’s hand tight, waiting for the blood and the death and the panic. He swallowed it whole. There were cheers and claps and stamping of feet. Out it came, slowly, slowly, and cheers erupted into a roar as he swept it through the air. I stamped and yelled with the rest of them. All the performers came running in, swarming around him, dancing and cart-wheeling round the ring, the aerialist lady dangling from the trapeze. Everyone stood, clapping and whistling. The performers turned to us and bowed and bowed again and again. Flowers were thrown into the ring as the performers filed out, a swish of the curtain, they were gone.

  On the journey back all I could do was talk about the acts but I was tired and half-asleep, leaning on Pigeon, her arm around me. I tried to keep my eyes open, looking up at her, telling her how I wanted to be a clown, be painted and do acrobatics, but my head would droop and I’d drift. I remember hearing her say, ‘I know you, you’re mad as a bag of cats, so don’t you go trying any swallowing of swords.’ I drifted, floating on glitter and lights.

  I didn’t tell Mac and Stevie I’d been to the circus. I didn’t want them to be jealous, I didn’t want them to know about Pigeon. Instead, I made up stories about a painted man who ate swords for dinner, a troop of jesters with painted faces who entertained Queen Isabella, and a flying glittering spirit who cast mischievous spells far and wide across the city of London.

  *

  ‘What you doing, boy?’

  ‘I’m not a boy,’ I said. ‘I’m a goblin.’

  ‘You don’t look like a goblin.’

  ‘Well, I am.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Looking for Pigeon.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The old lady. I’m looking for the old lady.’

  The neighbour leaned over, looking down at me, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘What do you want with her?’

  ‘Nuthin.’

  I whistled to Devil and scuffed my way up the path. The neighbour called after me.

  ‘She’s gone, boy. She’s sick. Her family took her away.’

  I looked down at Devil. He barked at me, but all I could hear was the drone of the insects. I swayed, mesmerised by the bees tumbling amongst the weeds.

  ‘Boy?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Where’d they take her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I walked off. I felt dizzy and sat on the curb.

  ‘So what?’ I said to Devil.

  I scuffed my feet on the ground.

  ‘So what? She was a stupid crazy pigeon woman anyway.’

  It wasn’t until weeks later I thought about the pigeons. I went back, broke in through a window and there they were, all over the house, dead like the mummified things, but rotting and stinking. I’d let her birds die.

  I cleaned up the best I could, got them all together and buried them in the garden. I remembered from somewhere that people buried things with pennies, so I put pennies on the pigeons and said a lizard prayer.

  ‘Forgive me lizards, for I have sinned. Forgive me my trespasses better than I forgive those who trespass me.’

  I stuck a bit of wood in the ground and wrote, ‘Here lie Pigeon’s pigeons. May they rest with the lizards below.’

  *

  When Mackenzie was laid up with flu I kicked around with Stevie but I was bored pretty quickly. After pummelling him a dozen times and beating him at every race, I lost interest. I liked Stevie, but it didn’t work just the two of us and Devil. We needed Mac. He brought out the best in us.

  Stevie and I were just sitting on a wall, kicking our feet, and I was all wound up, like I could just shoot off into the sky like a rocket. I kicked the wall and looked at Stevie, thinking maybe I could pummel him again, but got bored the moment I thought of it.

  ‘When, Stevie? When d’ya reckon Mac’ll be better?’

  He didn’t respond, just shook his head. He was
staring over at some kids playing Buttons. He had this faraway look in his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to me that Stevie could be just as sick of me as I was of him.

  We kicked the wall some more, then he was gone. Just a vague ‘I’m just gonna—’ and he was running down the street to the Button kids.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I got down and circled them, looking all aloof and too mature for it, but then I muscled in.

  ‘You kids can’t throw for shit.’

  I got beaten by this little runt of a kid, a kid even runtier than me, with shit-hot aim. Stevie, he seemed to be enjoying himself, even won a few buttons. I just huffed and scuffed my feet and thought about pummelling the runtier-than-me kid but couldn’t really be bothered in the end. Instead, I just ruffled his hair like David did with me, but he didn’t even pay me attention.

  ‘Kid, you can’t throw for shit,’ I said, drawling it out like some cowboy in the movies, but no one was listening and Devil was all laid out in the street in the sun snoring like some old man.

  ‘When d’ya reckon Mac’ll be better, eh?’

  No one was listening and I’d had enough of these runtier-than-me kids. I left Stevie to it, winning his buttons, finally good at something. I heard later that he got really into it and cut off all the buttons on his parent’s clothes, even his dad’s Sunday best. He got a hiding for that, so he stopped playing Buttons and came back to our den like nothing had happened, bringing some scrumped apples like a peace offering and trying to tell a story about how he got captured by Martians.

  Devil and I, we just wandered down the street, leaving them to their buttons. I thought maybe I could find David and we could go see a film, but he wasn’t home. He worked fixing cameras at weekends so I took Devil along to see if David was there, but he was busy. He pressed some money into my hand and said get lost, Goblin, I’m working, and he winked at me and I left.

  ‘Just you and me, eh kid?’ I said to Devil with my cowboy drawl.

  David had given me enough for the cinema, so I thought I’d go to the matinee but it was just some romance so we went to the Underground instead.

  ‘Let’s go on an adventure, Devil. Let’s explore and find treasures.’

  We often skipped the tickets, never got caught. I could ride for hours on the Underground, hopping on and off, sitting in the station watching all the people.

  We caught a train to Kensal Green. Pigeon had told me all about the cemetery, so off we got and off we went, exploring.

  As we walked through the grand entranceway, under the arch, there was a change in the air and I felt a bit sick with the heavy smell of flowers.

  ‘This is the in-between realm.’

  I walked on, pretending like I was monarch of this in-between realm, returning after years of exile to claim my throne. Devil bound down the path, chasing shadows and squirrels.

  ‘Devil, you’re ruining it. How can I be a snooty king when you’re showing me up?’

  I followed Devil and we were lost among the gravestones, turning down one path, then another and another. I kept to the shade, the trees providing shelter from the late afternoon sun. I looked out across the gravestones with their ivy armour and wild flowers erupting between them, insects shimmering in the sunlight.

  Devil leapt across the path ahead of me, chasing a squirrel, the squirrel’s arching jumps besting Devil’s sloppy leaps. It spiralled up a tree, leaving Devil below, barking, whining.

  ‘Ssshh! You’ll wake the dead.’

  Devil lost interest in the squirrel and worried a bumble bee tumbling drunkenly on the path. I pulled him away and we walked further into the cemetery. We came to a big path that led to a pillared building. Devil cantered ahead of me and I walked towards it, feeling my skin tingle. We ran up the stairs and between the pillars, reaching the door. I pulled on it, but it was locked. We explored the outside of the building, running down a pillared corridor. I weaved my way in and out of the columns, chasing Devil who easily out-ran me. He suddenly stopped, snuffling and scratching at something. I caught up to him, ready to save him from a sting, but it wasn’t a bee, it was a foot.

  ‘You found treasure,’ I said.

  I lifted it. Devil pawed at me, before catching the sound of a leaf scuffling down the path in the breeze. He jumped on it, looking up at me with pride. I smiled at him and cradled the foot in the palm of my hand. It looked like a crow’s foot. The leg bone had been stripped clean. The foot arched neatly, each toe ending in sharp, glinting talons. I decided it was a magic thing that would protect me and give me powers. I clutched it in my hand and wandered after Devil. We left the pillared building and headed to the cemetery boundary. I pushed Devil on to the wall and climbed up after him. The canal lay below, the sunset injecting it with orange and reds.

  ‘The water runs red, Devil-dog. It’s red with the blood of the enemies of this in-between realm.’

  Devil jumped down and threw himself into the water. I stayed on the wall; I didn’t know how to swim. I watched Devil as he followed the ducks who snapped at him and launched themselves into the air, leaving him behind in seconds. Darkness fell, turning the water black.

  ‘It’s the time of water snakes, Devil-dog. We must go, or they’ll pull us down to drown in the darkness.’

  I coaxed him out and we went back into the cemetery, Devil dripping water along the paths.

  We slept there that night and many other nights. I kept a treasure box in one of the mausoleums, a box full of old coins, dried up worms, the crow foot, David’s teeth, a teddy bear, pigeon wings, an old broken doll I found in the street, and little things I had sneaked from ma; old jewellery, needles and thread, discarded make-up, a half-empty cigarette pack. We returned again and again, but never told Mac or Stevie. This was our world. We were the Goblin and Devil of Kensal Green.

  *

  After the first night we spent in Kensal Green, Groo was waiting for us in my bedroom. Groo was around one year old and belonged to Mr Fenwick, my neighbour. Mr Fenwick was from Scotland. He’d fought in The Great War and had stayed in London when he returned from the front. That’s all us neighbours knew about him, as he was a right curmudgeon and would mostly grunt at you if you asked him anything about his life. Mr Fenwick hadn’t given Groo a name, just called her The Cat. He said he got her to catch mice and rats, but she was useless. I named her. I called her Groo, short for ‘groomer’, short for ‘terror groomer’ because she terrorised Devil. She loved him, but at first I wasn’t quite sure and neither was Devil. She’d come round a lot, sneaking in a window, or brushing past you at the door so quickly and silently you weren’t even sure it was her or a mischievous breeze tickling your skin. ‘That’s sure no breeze,’ I’d say to Devil as we went into our room and found her on the bed, waiting. Devil would join her, tired from a day of adventure and they’d curl up together. I’d try to find some space to lie down and read my book, my limbs tangled up amongst paws and tails. I’d read, listening to their huffy snores and I’d drift off to the rhythm. Waking up in the middle of the night, I’d find David had put a blanket on me and Devil was sat at the end of the bed, his ears pinned back, his eyes wide with worry as Groo groomed him. If he moved an inch, she’d hiss and lash out and he’d settle back down with a whine.

  ‘You leave my Devil alone, you old bully,’ I’d say to her, scooping her up. She meowed, but was rag doll limp as I carried her down the stairs and put her in the garden.

  ‘He’s as clean as any dog should be, you terror-beast. You leave him alone.’

  She’d yawn and stretch, wandering off into the darkness. But it would repeat – night after night Devil was terror-groomed. I was about to call a stop to it, build the barricades, mark Devil’s territory, but after the first night we’d spent in Kensal Green Devil must have enjoyed the peace and decided he’d had enough. Groo was up to her usual terror grooming but this time Devil stood up, pawed her, pushed her over, barked and wandered off. She lay there, startled, before meowing and slinking over to me. I was shaking with laughte
r before I realised she was standing on my pillow, chewing on my hair.

  ‘You’re a strange one, old Groo,’ I said to her. ‘You really are.’ I fell asleep as she chewed on my hair and licked my head.

  *

  The next day I went to visit Mac. His mum let me in this time. He was still sick, but a bit better. I told him about Devil giving Groo what for and how she terror-groomed me instead.

  ‘I woke up with my hair in weird clumps from where she’d been licking and chewing, but there was no sign of her. She must have gone back to Mr Fenwick’s for her breakfast.’

  ‘She’s a strange one, just like you,’ he said, then had a coughing fit. His mum came in and shooed me out.

  ‘But I’ve only been here a minute, Mrs Mac.’

  ‘That’s right, and you’re already making him worse. Come back next week, I’m sure he’ll be better by then. Now, get.’

  I was pretty down in the dumps at the thought of another whole week without Mac. I went home and listened to some of David’s records and just stared at the ceiling. Devil pawed at me and barked, so I took him for a walk but my heart wasn’t in it and I went back home after he’d done his business. I was lying on the sitting room floor reading my book when da came back from work. He sat in the chair next to me and lit his cigarette.

  ‘Goblin,’ he said. ‘Come ’ere. I’ll tell you a story.’

  He usually didn’t talk much, so I just looked at him, not moving an inch.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, patting his knee.

  I walked over to him and just stood there. I could smell the sweat and dirt of a day’s work. He picked me up by the waist and put me on his knee. He didn’t usually touch me, so I just looked at him, confused. He held up his hand, spreading his fingers.

  ‘A man lost his finger at the factory today,’ he said.

  I looked at him, wide-eyed.

  ‘How?’

  ‘He was stupid. He used one of the machines wrong.’