Goblin

by Ever Dundas

  I held him in one arm, hooked around his neck, his body flopping like Ruby. I was taking him to Kensal Green Cemetery. We broke out into the early morning light, bloodied monsters from below. I didn’t look at him, I just held him to my chest. I didn’t look to where the Nazis had been. I didn’t need to see anything more, for everything was gone from me, everything was to be buried, disappeared.

  *

  I found him a corner in the cemetery. It caught the sun in the afternoon. He used to sit there until the heat was too much and we’d clamber over the wall and he’d cool off in the canal.

  I dug a hole. I kissed his head, nuzzling in behind his ear. He didn’t smell of anything anymore. I placed him in the hole and showered him with pennies and sweets and ma’s old lipsticks, treasures and gifts for the lizards below. I emptied out the treasure box and put the camera inside, placing it next to Devil. I covered him with earth, saying my lizard prayers. I lit candles. I cried for hours and fell asleep on the grave.

  *

  I woke up, pulled David’s bear out from amongst the discarded treasures and cut its head off. I cut off its stubby arms and legs. I cut the head off the shrew Pigeon had given me and I carefully sewed it on to the bear body. It was squint and too small for the body but it was done and my sewing was good. I rummaged through the rest of the treasures and found the dried worms and the crow foot. I sewed the worms into both arm sockets and attached the crow foot into one of the leg sockets with wire and thread. I found a doll’s leg for the other side of the body. With wire and thread I sat hunched, attaching pigeon wings to its back. The wings were joined by part of the spine, each wing still beautiful with perfect feathers. When I finished I inspected my creation and wrapped it in bandages.

  The day had gone. My belly was growling. I chewed on sweets and walked deep into the cemetery, finding apples and berries. I held the bundle, looking for the perfect spot. I found a grand gravestone, sheltered by trees, and I knelt, lighting two candles at the base. I laid the bundle down and began to dig.

  I didn’t have Dr Frankenstein’s science. But I had magic.

  Hail thee lizards down below in the darkness in the depths hail thee O Lizard King I consecrate unto thee this creature of beauty made in observance of your law O Lizard Queen and King of the deep O guardian lizards I consecrate unto thee this gift the word shall be made flesh and this flesh shall be given lifeblood Holy Holy Holy which was and is and is to come I pour forth my blood I beseech thee O lizards of the depths by this passion I bring unto thee a gift and unto me I ask for a resurrection of these pieces I have sewn with diligence. I eat this heart for thee.

  I placed the bundle in the hole, wrapped up like Frankenstein’s monsta. Flicking open my penknife I cut my arm and drip-dripped blood onto the white bandages, watching it seep. I sank my teeth into an apple, dripping the juice onto the blood, imagining my teeth were sinking into a human heart, the heart of he who stole from us, giving back what he has taken. I poured earth over the creature and sat through the night.

  The darkness began to recede and I pulled back the earth, lifting out the bundle. I unwrapped the blanket and out tumbled a monsta, spiral spiral wheeeeeee, with waving worms like beautiful tentacles, grasping and feeling and swaying in the breeze. Monsta lay fallen, the crow foot scratching at the earth, the worms feeling up the side of the gravestone, a stunning undulation. I caught my breath at the beauty of this creation. I caught my breath and crawled back, watching.

  It’s lopsided, said Amelia.

  I twisted round. Amelia, Queen Isabella, Scholler. All three stood in waiting.

  Don’t ruin this, I said.

  I’d forgotten to cut the doll foot so it would be even with the crow foot, so Monsta was lopsided and walked kerlump-scratch, kerlump-scratch.

  He’s lopsided, said Amelia.

  It’s not a he, I said.

  Then what is it?

  It’s a monsta, I said, a pretty monsta dead thing. And dead things can’t die.

  Soon it was up and kerlumping through the earth and the grass, all lopsided like Amelia said, all lopsided and perfect. The pigeon wings spread, creaking, stiff and awkward. Monsta hovered then fell.

  Now you’re beautiful, I said.

  Now you’re ugly, said Queen Isabella, puffing her chest, causing her grotesque brooch to quiver.

  Now, I said emphatically, you’re a pretty monsta dead thing.

  Monsta kerlumped to me, scratching at the earth. The black eyes roamed here and there, seeking me out, observing, considering. The worm-tentacles crawled through my fingers, pulling, slithering, climbing.

  *

  What happened to you?

  Nothing.

  You look a mess.

  I’m going to the sea, ma.

  I don’t have time for your stories.

  I’m really going.

  You are? About time your school evacuated the lot of you.

  My school’s already gone. I’ll go with another one.

  As long as you’re going. Go clean yourself up.

  I will.

  And wear a dress, for god’s sake. Don’t want the people by the sea thinking bad of me, do I?

  I don’t have a dress.

  You can have an old one of mine.

  I didn’t want to wear a dress but I thought it would be a good disguise in case the Nazis saw me, so I got cleaned up the best I could and I put ma’s dress on. It was yellow, with flowers. It sagged at the chest and bunched up on the ground. I cut off a bit at the bottom, but didn’t manage the back, so it trailed, picking up the mud and dust, but it was a good disguise. I propped my gas mask on my head and stuffed my schoolbag full of treasures and books, mismatching socks, and shorts and shirts. I pulled on my old boots, raggedy boots that used to be David’s that had been mended a hundred times. I wrote David a note: I’m going to the sea. I’ll write and you can join me. Mermaids, krakens, pirates! I’m going on an adventure. Love, Goblin.

  Monsta climbed into the bag, making a nest amongst the clothes, bits of worm and feathers and crow foot sticking out the top. We’re escaping, Monsta. The shrew eyes blinked sleepily. I hiked the bag onto my shoulder and went downstairs. I climbed out the back window in case the Nazis were watching at the door, waiting to kill us. Amelia, Scholler and Queen Isabella led me through the backstreets and alleys and I sang songs of the sea to Monsta, whose worm-arms flopped and swayed.

  We’re going on an adventure, Monsta. An adventure to the sea.

  Chapter 4

  Edinburgh, 18 July 2011

  ‘How’d it go with the doc?’ says Ben.

  ‘She signed me off for a couple of weeks. I stopped off at work and chatted with my boss. She’s been pretty good about it.’

  ‘It’s good if ye have a decent boss.’

  ‘Can’t fault her.’

  I sit down at my desk and slip off my shoes.

  ‘Are ye going to keep writing?’ says Ben.

  I nod.

  ‘Why’d ye write on that beat up old typewriter when there’s a perfectly good laptop.’

  ‘The laptop’s for work. I prefer a typewriter.’

  I go to the kitchen and get some wine. I shout down the hall, asking Ben if he wants a glass.

  ‘It’s too early for that, old lady. I’ll have a cuppa, though.’

  I come back through with the wine and tea to find Ben reading one of my pages.

  ‘What’s this about Martians and Nazis?’

  ‘Don’t read that,’ I say, hurriedly putting down the wine and tea, snatching the page away from Ben. ‘That’s private.’

  ‘Then dinnae leave it lying around.’

  ‘This is my flat,’ I say.

  Ben looks as if I’ve just slapped him.

  ‘Aye, well if ye dinnae want me here just say so – yer the one who wanted me to stay.’

  I hold the page tight in my hand, crushing it, not caring that Ben feels hurt. I put the sheet of paper with the rest on my desk. They’re all crumpled, strewn everywhere. I bunch th
em all together and sit on the floor, drinking my wine.

  ‘I must bring order,’ I say, sorting through the papers. ‘I must bring some order.’

  ‘While ye bring order by drinking yersel intae oblivion me n Sam’ll be on our way then.’

  I look up at him, confused for a moment, watching him pack his few belongings into his rucksack.

  ‘On your way where?’ I say.

  He ignores me and I feel panicked.

  ‘On your way where? Are you leaving? I said you could stay.’

  I stand up and clutch at him, and he makes to brush me off but he looks at me and stops.

  ‘Alright, old lady, alright.’

  He puts his hand on mine.

  ‘You’re not leaving?’

  ‘No,’ he says, ‘we’ll stay right here.’

  We stand there for a moment; Ben looking at me, his hand still on mine. I shake my head, feeling sick.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, leading me to the couch, ‘It’s alright, sit down. I didnae mean to upset ye.’

  We sit on the couch, Ben’s arm around me. Mahler jumps up and lies down, his head on my lap. Sam sits at the door, expectant. Ben calls him over and gives him one of his toys to chew on.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’

  ‘Dinnae worry, old lady.’

  Monsta walks along the floor, kerlumpscratch, kerlumpscratch. A flutter of the pigeon wings and Monsta is up on my writing desk, worm-arms prodding at the typewriter keys. I laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Monsta – The Life Story.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘My life story. That’s what I’m writing. And it’s private, that’s all, it’s private. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  ‘I know. It’s okay. I shouldnae have read it without yer permission.’

  ‘Ben, I want you to stay. I don’t want that to ever be a question.’

  He puts his arm round me, pulling me close. We sit there quietly for a while then Ben says, ‘How about a film, old lady? Before ye get back to yer writing. I’ll make some breakfast and we can watch some old film, eh?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Ben goes through to the kitchen, Sam and Mahler following. I hear him giving them some food as I go over to see what Monsta has written: ‘I learned to swim in the sea.’

  ‘That’s too far on,’ I say. ‘I’m not there yet, Monsta.’

  Monsta sways. The smell of toast reaches me and I say, ‘Later, Monsta. Writing can wait.’

  I join Ben in the kitchen, listening to Monsta’s stilted typing.

  Cornwall, September 1939 – September 1940

  Piss and shit, I reeked of it. We’d been travelling for hours, crammed in, no stops, no toilets, no food. It smelled like a pit in hell.

  I’d made it to the station without the Nazis seeing me, so I’d taken off my disguise. I shimmied my shorts on under the dress and pulled it off over my head, replacing it with a crumpled shirt. The station was a mess of children, all bustling and chattering and crying. I pushed my way into the crowd and eyed some kid’s label, remembering the school in case anyone asked, but no one did. I headed over to the train before I realised Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler weren’t following. I stopped and a kid bashed right into me.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘You’re in the way,’ said the kid.

  ‘I’m not talking to you,’ I said, and he shoved me, walking round.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘We can’t leave London.’

  ‘Why not? I thought ghosts could do anything.’

  Other kids gave me confused looks and squeezed past me.

  ‘We belong to London.’

  Kids kept pushing at me and I staggered backwards towards the train, my eyes on the ghosts. I was caught up in the flow as the kids surged onto the train, so I turned away and climbed up the steps. I tried to catch a glimpse of the ghosts before disappearing into the train but I couldn’t see over the heads of the other kids. I moved down the corridor looking for a seat by the window. Finding one, I knelt on it and pressed up against the window watching the ghosts standing serene in the crowd. Three boys sat next to me and I glanced at them before turning back. I waved goodbye as the train started to roll its way to the sea.

  ‘Who’re you waving at?’ said one of the boys, looking out the window.

  ‘Ghosts,’ I said.

  ‘Ghosts aren’t real,’ he said.

  ‘They are. So are lizard people,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said.

  When I couldn’t see the ghosts any longer I sat down properly and faced the boy.

  ‘Underground is where the lizard people live,’ I said, and I told them stories as London disappeared.

  By the time we arrived I was all out of tales, all of us thirsty and hungry and stinking. The doors opened and out we tumbled, spreading across the platform like a plague. The waiting adults were expecting little angels with bouncing hair and rosy cheeks and there we were, flat out on the platform, a stinking mass. Realising these monsters were the children they’d come to greet, one of the women snapped her fingers: ‘Water, food. Now.’

  Without hesitation, the others scurried, following the Snap-dragon’s orders. They went to a local shop a few minutes from the station and trudged back, laden with supplies. By the time they returned the Snap-dragon had already sorted us into an order of priority. Most of the tiny kids were dealt with first but there wasn’t much of a wait as the Snap-dragon had everything in such perfect control that everything was done efficiently.

  ‘Well, isn’t she a Queen Bee?’

  That’s what Isabella would have said if she’d been there. She would have been impressed but jealous and uppity too, I was sure of it. I would have told her, ‘She’s not a Queen Bee. She’s a Snap-dragon.’ And to placate her I would have said, ‘You’re the only queen here,’ because I wouldn’t have wanted any trouble. Then I would have kept quiet, not wanting to stand out as the kid who talked to ghosts right on the first day of arriving. But I didn’t have to worry about that because they were in London where they belonged and here I was making a plan already in my head to be as normal as I could so I’d get good pretend parents who would look after me.

  The only thing I had that I shouldn’t really have was Monsta but I wasn’t about to give up my best friend, not now Devil was gone. I just had to hide Monsta the best I could and hope the pretend parents weren’t the kind that were nosy parkers who liked to rake through all your things like Stevie’s parents used to do, because then I’d definitely be in trouble and if I wasn’t in trouble exactly, they were still sure to throw Monsta in the rubbish or make use of all Monsta’s body parts for something else because we don’t waste anything in wartime. But I already thought Monsta wasn’t wasting things, Monsta was Monsta and was making good use of all the parts. I pushed Monsta further down in my bag and drank the water I’d been given.

  The child picking had started and the Snap-dragon wasn’t in control anymore. The adults already had in mind to go for boys, especially the strong boys, though none of us looked strong at all, just a dirty mess collapsed on the platform, shovelling food in our mouths. Some of the adults were walking off with boys and the Snap-dragon just about threw a fit when she saw that. Some had already managed to sneak away with their choice boy, but others hadn’t quite and she gave them a bollocking. She already had a list of who needed boys, all those that needed hard work done.

  ‘Slave labour,’ is what Amelia would have said. She wasn’t there, but that’s what she would have said. ‘Slave labour is all they’re after,’ and she would have been pleased because she didn’t like children anyway so she would have nodded her approval.

  As the Snap-dragon was shouting at someone for stealing a boy I thought about whether I wanted to be a boy or a girl – maybe I should have kept ma’s dress on so I wouldn’t be breaking my back doing hard labour, but then girls would be made to do cleaning and sewing and cooking and breaking their
back that way. I’d decided being a boy was better because I’d probably get to go outside and there’d more likely be adventures outside and the sun and animals and even the rain but being stuck inside cleaning up after people would be like being trapped in a cage.

  ‘Come here, boy.’

  I stood up and shuffled over to her. She squinted at me before lifting my arms, yanking at them like I was some rag doll.

  ‘Hey!’ I said, but she ignored me, squeezing my arms then turning me round and round until I got dizzy.

  ‘What’s in your bag?’

  ‘Clothes and books,’ I said shoving Monsta’s head and tentacles right to the bottom and showing her a sock and an H.G. Wells. She looked at the book and was about to say something when a man came over, dragging a boy, and said, ‘This one will do, Margaret.’

  ‘This one too, Tom,’ she said, and gripped my arm, pulling me over so he could see me. He nodded and she let go and patted me twice on the back.

  ‘C’mon then,’ she said, ‘get going.’

  They ushered us off the platform. A girl stood ahead of us, face all a-storm.

  ‘Jesus!’ she said, ‘I can do just as good as any boy can.’

  Tom and Margaret walked on as if they were going to ignore her but as they passed Tom took a swipe at her, hitting her across the face with the back of his hand. Her head hit the station wall with a crack.

  ‘Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain, lass,’ he said.

  I stared back at her. She lay on the ground, dazed. I walked on, following the couple. I could hear the girl swearing again and I smiled.

  ‘That girl has no good sense in her,’ Queen Isabella would have said. ‘I hope you do.’

  I nodded. I knew how to look after myself.

  ‘I’m Goblin,’ I said, and held out a dirty hand to the kid next to me.

  ‘I’m John,’ he said.

  We shook hands and followed Tom and Margaret, our pretend parents.

  *

  When we got to the pretend house we were marched straight past it. Margaret disappeared inside and came out a moment later, throwing something at us. Tom barked at us to pick it up. We both scrambled for it. It was soap and it slid out of our hands, falling back into the mud. We kicked it along the path, back and forth, until Tom barked at us again. I took a hold of it and Tom shoved us into the river, throwing our bags on the bank.