by Ever Dundas
I got home to find ma, da, and David in the sitting room. All the neighbours had gone. The wireless burbled in the background. The windows were covered, and the light was dim. Da sat next to ma, leaning back, smoking, looking relaxed except for his hand that gripped the side of the chair, his knuckles white. Ma was perched. Her nose was red, her mascara had run and was caked across her cheeks. David was sitting opposite them with his elbows on his knees, head bowed, palms pressed to his ears, his fingers sticking up through his hair. I thought maybe he was sick.
‘David?’
Ma jerked towards me as if about to get up, but she stayed, perched. Her dark brown eyes looked black.
‘I want you home before blackout from now on. You got that?’
‘You never cared before.’
‘Don’t you answer me back, Goblin-runt. You’ve been running wild for too long, you and that Devil-dog.’
I nodded.
‘You hear me?’
‘Yes, ma.’
Da continued to smoke. David didn’t move. I went into the hall and paused, listening.
‘I’m not having a fucking conchie living in our house.’
Da wasn’t even shouting. His voice was low and I strained to hear. There was no response. Just silence. I went to my room.
‘They’re idiots, Devil. Idiots.’
We curled up in bed and I flicked through The Time Machine, reading bits of it aloud to Devil.
David came in, took off his clothes and got in bed. He had a red welt on his cheek, just below his eye. Dried blood crumbled across his temple.
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
He lit a cigarette.
‘Mind if I put on a record?’
He’d never asked before.
‘It’s fine,’ I said.
We lay there, listening to Liszt. Devil fell asleep, twitching and making little noises as he dreamt.
‘We don’t need to stay here,’ David said. ‘Do we?’
He turned on his side and looked over at me. I shook my head.
‘We’ll leave. How about that? We’ll leave together and go to the west coast. We’ll live by the sea. I’ll get a job and we’ll live by the sea.’
I nodded. I’d never been to the sea.
He turned off the record.
‘Night.’
‘Night.’
I sank into my bed and drifted, dreaming dreams of the ocean, of ships and pirates, of treasure and krakens and mermaids and adventures to shimmering glittering foreign lands.
Edinburgh, 16 July 2011
Holding the newspaper, worrying the edges, I stare at the photograph. It’s blurry. There’s very little light. At first glance, all you can really see is an indistinct mound, a jumble of old clothes maybe, rubbish, junk, just waiting to be tipped over into a pit where it would rot away. Light comes into the right of the photograph, an overexposed glare, melting, pushing back the darkness. Some of the bodies are in sacks, but others are piled on, legs in a tangled mess, heads drooping. Smoke was emerging from behind the mound and I remember the stench of burning hair and skin. Devil had been by my side, sprinting in short bursts, back and forth, barking and whining, but I’d ignored him as I stared at a dog that was pushed deep into the mound, its head sticking out. It looked comical, its front paw offered up. I’d taken the paw in my hand, feeling the pads, staring at its lolling tongue. There was a cat next to it and I’d lifted its head with the palm of my hand, pushing up the chin. I’d stroked it, poked into its strange ears, feeling the shape of the cartilage. The eyes looked fake. It was just a rag doll cat. I’d sniffed its head. It smelled cold.
I must have left the camera. Mac had picked it up. It was always round my neck. I can’t remember anymore, can’t recall why I left it. Maybe it was the shock of seeing all the dead bodies in our den.
Mac had raised the camera. At the time I didn’t know whether he’d taken a photo or if he was just playing, just pretending. And here I was, walking towards Mac, emerging from the smoke, the dead animals barely visible in the background.
I had my brother’s old shorts on. They were too big for me and I’d tied them round my waist with string. My spindly legs were covered in bruises from our violent games, from running through the streets in the blackout. I was reaching towards Mac. I didn’t like anyone else touching my camera, even him. I’m frowning, about to speak, about to demand it back. You can see the scar on my arm, from the spike. And more bruises. My gas mask was propped on top of my head, my shorn hair sticking out in tufts.
It’s a beautiful photograph.
London, 6 September 1939
I was about to snatch the camera away from Mac, but instead I was sick. It was mostly bile. Devil sniffed at my sick and I pushed him away.
‘It’s been happening all over,’ said Mac.
‘What?’
‘This,’ he gestured to the mound of dead bodies. ‘It’s been happening all over.’
‘Who’s doing it?’
‘We are. Freddy from next door took his pup to the vet yesterday and the pup just followed him all excited like it was an adventure. Freddy said it was for her own good. That she’d be afraid of the bombs, that she’d go crazy. Freddy said they’d have enough to worry about without this pup causing them trouble and being another mouth to feed.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s right there,’ Mac said, pointing to the bodies. ‘What’s there to believe?’
‘People won’t just go and kill their family for no reason.’
‘They’re pets, you idiot. They’re just pets.’
‘Don’t you think Devil’s family?’
I punched him on the arm, he punched me back and we ended up in a scrap. He gave me a bloody nose but I pinned him down, pulling his arm behind his back and sitting on him. Devil yapped and nipped at me.
‘See,’ I said. ‘Devil loves you. Devil matters.’
‘I love the little bastard too, just get off me.’
We sat in silence for a while, staring at the bodies. Mac rubbed his arm and I wiped at the blood dribbling onto my lips. Devil nuzzled into me, trying to lick me clean of blood. I took his face in both hands and snuffled just behind his ear, breathing him in, smearing blood on his fur. I kissed his head.
‘I wasn’t saying he doesn’t matter, I was just saying how it is. Yesterday I found Charlie from across the road sat in the gutter snotting all over himself and I flicked his ear and called him a cry-baby. He cried even harder so I shoved him and he fell and lay there in the road. I didn’t know what to do, he was shaking and making this godawful noise. I dragged him out the gutter and put him in his garden and just left him there. Turned out his dad had taken all three cats to the vet to be killed. You know Charlie, won’t speak to anyone except those cats, and he had that one he put on a lead, the one that would sit on his shoulder like some parrot. All the adults say it’s for the best. All the adults say, “There’s a war on.”’
‘People won’t kill all the animals just because there’s a war on.’
‘But they have.’
Devil wandered over to the mound of bodies, sniffing round them, whining. I called him but he ignored me. He got down, flat on his belly, burrowing into the mound and pulling at something. I called again but he just pulled, dragging out a cat, causing the mound to collapse. The bodies fell on top of him and we ran to the rescue. The bodies shuddered as he struggled beneath them; a monster of heads and limbs shaking and lolling, paws reaching out to us, glacial eyes staring as we scrambled through the bodies searching for him. When we found him he had the cat held firm in his mouth and he growled at me when I tried to take it from him. He jumped clear, knocking Mac, leaving us in the pile of bodies. Mac was sprawled in a cushion of fur, cat and dog legs sticking out, giving him new limbs, heads sprouting from his shoulders.
‘You look like a monster,’ I said. ‘A three headed catdogboy with belly paws like an insect.’
‘A woodpig,’ he said, kicking his
legs in the air, taking two paws in his hands and waving them, ‘a woodpig on its back.’
I laughed at him and he said, ‘You have feathers.’ I looked down and saw a dirty parrot by my knee. I picked it up, stroking it. It felt soft. Devil whined and I looked over. He’d let go of the cat and was sat flat in front of it, whining, scraping at the ground, pawing at its head. He circled it, got down flat again, pawed it, circled.
‘We should get away from here,’ I said.
I pushed myself up, feeling a crunch beneath my hand. I’d cracked a dog’s skull. I looked over at monster-woodpig-Mac and it wasn’t funny anymore. I felt sick again, drowning in bodies, no breath, no breath, trying to move, trying to get to Devil, my hands and feet crushing bodies. I couldn’t get free of them, they cracked and groaned and burst beneath me, tumbling after me as I tried to move away. I was sick again, sick onto the animals.
When I reached Devil I recognised the cat. Ruby was a year old ginger that belonged to my neighbour Mrs Summers. Devil had wanted to be friends with her, but she’d only hissed and scratched at him, until one hot summer’s day Devil was lying in our garden and Ruby came along and sat on top of him like they were best friends. Devil lay there like it was all normal, letting Ruby lick his ear.
I picked her up and Devil barked at me. She was damp and smelled of pee. She must have wet herself when she was killed.
‘It’s Ruby,’ I said to Mac. ‘I’m taking her home, giving her a proper burial.’
‘Who’s Ruby?’
‘Mrs Summers’ cat. She was friends with Devil.’
Devil stood on his hind legs and licked her dangling tail.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I said. ‘I bet it’s Nazi spies infiltrating us, telling everyone to kill the pets, telling everyone it’s for the best.’
‘Maybe.’
‘It is.’
‘Probably.’
‘It’s Nazis.’
‘Oi, you! Get out!’
I turned, spitting out of the side of my mouth. A man stomped towards us, carrying a shovel, sweat dripping.
‘What’re you up to, eh?’
I squinted up at him.
‘The Nazis have come,’ I said.
‘Get lost, boy. And you. That your dog? It’ll end up in here soon enough.’
I kicked his shin and spat at him, my saliva still mixed with sick. He took a swipe at me, but we ran, Mac swearing at him, calling him a fat German bastard. He just stood there, rubbing his leg, watching us run off.
*
‘The Germans have come.’
That’s what we told Stevie.
‘They’re spies. They’ll kill all our animals. You heard what he said about Devil, Mac. They’ll burn and bury them. They’ll release millions of rats and there won’t be any cats to eat the rats and they’ll spread a plague, like before, like back in the olden times.’
Stevie looked frightened.
‘I’m sick of your stories,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I’m just sick of them.’
‘It’s not a story,’ I said. ‘Look,’ I said.
I held out Ruby. I shook her, as if that proved something. Stevie backed off.
‘Get it away from me!’
‘It’s Ruby,’ I said. ‘The Nazis killed Ruby and all the other pets. It’s real, we saw. Eh, Mackenzie?’
Mac shrugged and said, ‘He looked like an ugly German but he didn’t sound it.’
‘I know, he’s a spy. He’ll have practiced our accent.’
‘Yeah, probably a spy.’
‘We’ll go back and we’ll take pictures and show everyone the Germans have come.’
‘I dunno,’ said Stevie.
‘They have our den. We can’t just let them kill animals and have our den and bring plague rats.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mac, ‘but who wants pictures, Goblin? We’ll capture him instead. How about that? We’ll go in and we’ll capture him!’
‘Ayaiaiaaaai!’ I yelled.
‘He sure looked a fat German bastard, a stupid rubbish German spy and we’ll get medals for finding him out, eh Goblin?’
‘For definite, Mac. Come on, Stevie, you gotta come. We’ll get medals, the three of us, and we’ll meet the king and eat in the palace, a huge feast for capturing the Germans and stopping the rat plague.’
Stevie still looked uncertain, but smiled. He joined in our war cries and bowed down before me as I laid a stick on each shoulder.
‘Sir Knight Stevie, Saviour of the Realm, Preventer of Rat Plague and Capturer of Fat German Bastards.’
He puffed out his skinny chest.
‘I salute thee,’ I said.
They both stood to attention.
‘I salute thee,’ they chorused.
‘But first we’ll leave Ruby at old Mrs Summers’ house.’
‘I thought you were going to bury her.’
‘I’m going to leave her on Mrs Summers’ step so she sees what the Nazis have done to her Ruby.’
I went into Mrs Summers’ garden, Mac and Stevie keeping Devil outside the gate so he wouldn’t make a fuss. I laid her down on the top step and said a short lizard prayer.
‘We’ll get those Nazi bastards,’ I said to Ruby. ‘I promise.’
I joined Mac, Devil and Stevie and we raised our sticks and ran for the worksite, yelling. On the way I saw my neighbour Miss Campbell in her garden with her dog Betty. I ran up to her gate.
‘Keep her safe, Miss Campbell!’ I yelled. ‘There’s Nazis killing the pets. You keep Betty safe.’
Miss Campbell looked startled as we ran by. The streets were emptying as the blackout darkness approached. By the time we reached our den we were tired out and the fat German bastard was gone. The fire had been extinguished and most of the animals had been thrown into a pit. Stevie looked sick.
‘I thought it was a story,’ he said. ‘I thought Ruby had been hit by a car or something.’
‘We told you the Germans had come,’ I said, and he nodded, looking up at me like he was just a little frightened kid. And he was. That’s all he was, all we should have been.
‘Come on, we’ll hunt the fat German bastard, we’ll hunt him down.’
I persuaded Stevie but I was deflated. I wanted to be back home, curled up on my bed, watching David smoke, listening to his records. I knew the fat German bastard must have gone and we should be gone too but I turned it into a game, another adventure story.
‘C’mon, Stevie.’
We heard voices coming from beyond the animal pit, behind a mound of rubble.
‘The Nazis,’ I said. ‘They’re still here.’
Stevie fidgeted, looking over to the worksite exit, barely visible as the sky darkened.
‘Creep,’ I said. ‘We’ll creep and sneak! Like spies, we’ll sneak up on the Nazis and we’ll capture them.’
Mac nodded, clasping his stick.
‘Ssssshhh!’ I said to Devil. ‘We’re being spies.’
He got down on his belly, mimicking us.
I knew Stevie wouldn’t come, so I said, ‘Stevie, you be lookout, okay? You just stay right here and you be lookout.’
He nodded, and we hunched down flat, creeping along the ground, Devil huffing by my side. We crept past the animal pit and round the mound and there they were, five Nazis.
I raised the camera and we fell like Alice down the rabbit hole tumbling in the darkness hail thee O lizards in the darkness in the depths hail thee who art in the darkness. In a moment, in a second, with a click, it was over.
Edinburgh, 16 July 2011
The phone rings and rings and rings and there’s Queen Isabella but she isn’t there she’s in London you’re in London not here not here in this room all shadows and dim orange light. I search the whole house on my hands and knees checking under beds in cupboards no whisky no whisky here or there and I lie on the floor watching spectre-Monsta, kerlumpscratch, kerlumpscratch, pretty monsta dead thing but you’re not here you’re in London buried dug up tagged and filed. You’re not here, Monsta, you’re e
vidence. I spy with my little eye in the darkness in the depths red wine buried in a cupboard and I feed myself one glass two and three. Back to my desk and here I sit and here I say I’m sorry Devil I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
London, 6 September 1939
I was trying to stem the blood flow and I needed to get away.
As I’d clicked the shutter there was a loud bang and I fell back as if slugged, unsure what I’d seen, unsure what had happened. Devil barked furiously and there were two bangs one after the other, a strangled whine on the final blast. I scrambled up and saw Devil on the ground. I thought it was the sound that had sent him flat and was about to call him and run when I saw he was leaking red. I heard yells and the sound of rubble scattering, but the muddy light made it difficult to see and all I knew was that I needed to get Devil somewhere safe.
I hoisted him into my arms, holding him tight to my chest and I floated like the Martians, with ease and precision. The rubble was no obstacle. I knew my way through this land in the darkness. I knew it better than anyone. It was Devil who had given me our way out the day we played Frankenstein’s monsta, Martians and Nazis with Mac and Stevie. He’d disappeared, following the rat as I lay impaled on that spike.
I found the spike and I twisted round, falling on my arse and sliding feet first through the hole I’d seen Devil disappear into that day.
You saved us, I said. You’ve saved us both. It’ll all be alright.
I laid him down and pulled off my shirt, my hand gliding across his body, sliding through the blood. I tied the shirt around him, laying my hand across it, willing the bleeding to stop. I could feel his faint heartbeat. We were in the darkness, our protection, our realm, the kingdom of the lizards. Hail thee O lizards hail thee in thy kingdom down below.
You can’t leave me, Devil.
The heartbeat stopped and I laid my head on his chest. I felt the blood on my skin, still warm; it soaked into my hair. I lay there until his body was cold. I held onto his paw and stroked the pads.
Hail thee O lizards carry upon thy river thy servant, hail thee O lizards carry upon thy river thy servant. In repetition I fell into sleep and woke into a pointless rage. It was useless, I was useless. Everything was gone from me.