Goblin

by Ever Dundas

  ‘Get clean, get dressed and get back to the house.’

  We stripped in the water, scrubbing our clothes with the soap and throwing them onto rocks to dry. It was freezing but we warmed up as we pushed and splashed each other, fighting over the soap. When John almost fell over into the water he panicked and refused to get the soap when we dropped it. I ducked down, sweeping it off the river bed. I saw John’s willy all shrivelled up against the cold, bobbing in the current.

  ‘I can’t swim,’ he said, when I emerged.

  ‘I can’t swim either,’ I said, contemplating the water burbling past my belly.

  ‘I don’t want to drown,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think we’ll see the sea?’ I said. ‘Do you think we will? My brother was gonna take me to live by the sea and we were gonna fight with pirates and swim with mermaids.’

  ‘I can’t swim,’ he repeated. ‘Mermaids don’t exist.’

  We scrubbed ourselves clean, washing away the journey, washing away London. John got out and got dressed. He waited on the bank, shifting from one foot to another.

  ‘You coming?’

  ‘In a minute,’ I said, not wanting him to find out I wasn’t a boy. ‘You go on up.’

  He hesitated then turned and walked back up the path. I watched him disappear and pulled myself up onto the bank, shivering. I shook like a dog. Monsta crawled out of my bag as I dried myself.

  ‘You want a bath too?’

  Monsta’s tentacle arm swayed. Kerlumpscratch, kerlumpscratch, down to the water’s edge. Monsta dipped in an arm and retreated instantly. Kerlumpscratch, sway, Monsta came back to me.

  ‘Ha! Monsta, we’re both shaking like dogs.’

  But Monsta had an elegance. The black shrew eyes looked up at me as the water snaked down the worm-arm, disappearing into the grass.

  ‘Don’t worry, Monsta. Water won’t hurt you. We’ll go to the sea and we’ll learn to swim, eh?’

  Monsta shuddered. I laughed and put on my shirt and shorts, propping the gas mask on my head. I dried Monsta off and we walked back up the path.

  *

  Luke was what they called me, because they were all religious and didn’t like ‘Goblin’ at all, not one little bit.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘John,’ John said.

  ‘Goblin,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Goblin.’

  ‘We’ll have no foolishness here,’ she said, all put out. ‘What’s your actual real God-given name?’

  ‘God didn’t give me a name,’ I said.

  ‘God gives everyone a name.’

  ‘I’ve always been Goblin. It’s what they called me from the beginning. Except most of the time it was the long version, Goblin-runt, but my friends just call me Goblin.’

  I got a skelp across the head.

  ‘There’s no swearing in this house,’ she said, and I took a minute to think what she meant and thought maybe she thought ‘runt’ was a swearword, so I thought of putting her right, but thought of Isabella and David and their advice and just stayed quiet.

  ‘You must have a Christian name.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Then we’ll give you one. I’m not having any goblins in this house.’

  That’s when they called me Luke, like in the Bible, and I just thought fine why not – a pretend name for pretend parents.

  ‘How old are you, Luke?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Nine, sir. I’ll be ten in March.’

  He nodded.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Ten,’ said John.

  ‘Ten what?’

  John looked confused and said, ‘Years old.’

  I nudged him in the ribs and whispered, ‘Sir!’

  ‘Ten years old, sir!’ he said and Tom nodded.

  ‘Right. Let’s get you to work.’

  Every morning we were up at dawn. Eggs for breakfast then off to milk the cows and feed the pigs and the chickens. I soon learned that John was a real pain – he’d fiddle around, making it look like he was doing things but mostly he’d be letting me do all the work, and when I asked him for help he’d get all haughty and act like he was the one doing the most. He wasn’t worth the bother so I just got on with things and enjoyed being with the animals. I loved watching them. The chickens had shiny feathers and amazing feet. I’d stay with them long after feeding and stare at those feet, the way they curled in on themselves when they lifted them, the way they splayed out, claws scratching at the earth. Tom would yell over at me to stop dreaming and get on over to the pigs and off I’d trot and feed the pigs and muck them out and all morning I’d be sweating it out on the farm watching the animals eat and shit and play.

  ‘You’re not a bleedin’ dog,’ I’d say, as one of the pigs followed me round like I was the kingqueen goblin of pigland. ‘You’ll be on our plates soon enough,’ I’d say, but along he’d come, snuffling at my legs. I’d go about my work, this pig by my side the whole way until Tom yelled at me and I’d swot at it and I’d get grunts and a nip on the calf. Soon it was all round the town: ‘London rat and his pig pet.’ It came with me to the shops, it followed me to the forest, but got caught in the bracken and made a helluva fuss and I’d have to turn round and go back home again.

  ‘That pig gets lost, you’re paying for it,’ said Tom.

  ‘Pigs like the stench of rat,’ said old Wendy and I spat at her and she harrumphed at me, her ugly face all set in an ugly scowl.

  ‘You’ve got a face just like a chicken arse,’ I said to old Wendy and me and my pig, we went on our way, our arses wiggling, our noses up in the air like we were the rulers of the town.

  Then there we were, seeming just like it was back in London, walking right up to that reverend and standing all defiant: ‘Can pigs come to church?’

  He looked down at me and he looked down at my pig and he said, ‘I don’t see why not. Pigs are God’s creatures too.’

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, feeling foolish with nowhere for my stored up swearing to go.

  ‘Just make sure it doesn’t shit all over the place.’

  With that, the preacher turned and off he went.

  ‘As if you’d shit in a church,’ I said, all indignant. I scuffed at the ground and stared at the pig.

  ‘Corporal Pig. That’s your name and don’t you forget it.’

  Monsta liked Corporal Pig. Monsta rode on CP’s back, worm arms swaying with excitement as CP trotted along.

  *

  When we started up at school I didn’t like being cooped up but I behaved and did my work (Miss Hallows praised me for being ‘diligent’ and ‘clever’ and I puffed my chest out all proud at that). Turned out the Snap-dragon was the headmistress, which made a lot of sense. I didn’t like her all that much and I was thankful we didn’t see her all that often. I did like Miss Hallows and I liked when we got to read books, but we never read books as exciting as The War of the Worlds or Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The town kids stayed away from the London rats and I was doubly scorned for being diligent and clever. I didn’t need any friends, though. I had CP and Monsta. I sometimes saw that girl who Tom had hit at the station. She was in the class above me and she was so beautiful I could hardly look at her and she didn’t look at me at all.

  I was pretty damn tired in term time; up at the crack of dawn to look after the animals, then there was school and straight into chores when I got home, then supper and homework. After homework, when I was in bed, I’d sometimes write stories. Some I made up, but they were mostly the stories Pigeon told me about the ghosts and the lizard people, so I would never forget them. I didn’t have much paper so I’d write them really small in the front and back pages of The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine. Once or twice a week I’d write letters or postcards home, to ma and da and David. I always wrote my address on them and asked them to write, but they never did. I figured they were busy with the war in London. I told David I was at th
e sea, I told him he should come and we could live together by the sea. I wrote less and less. Tom complained about the cost of the stamps and the wasting of paper and I had more and more chores to do anyway.

  On top of all that Tom taught us to shoot. I took to it like I was born for it. John wasn’t any good. ‘John,’ I said, ‘you’re shit-bollocks at this,’ and he shoved me so that I fell over in chicken shit. His head snapped back when he laughed and I was up like a shot, punching his face. He wasn’t laughing then, but spitting blood into the chicken shit, one of his teeth floating in the shit-blood mess. It glistened like a jewel.

  ‘I was just saying it like it is,’ I said, my anger gone. ‘I can teach you to do it better.’

  He was crying by now and Tom came over and didn’t even ask what happened, but just took me by the ear. I’d seen what he’d done to that girl at the station so I expected a beating, but he just dragged me by the ear and shut me in the shed. He let me out in the evening, sat me down and said, ‘No one damages my property.’

  Just like that. Not even pretending. I kept my mouth shut. I’d said to Isabella, who wasn’t even there at the station, I’d said to her I knew how to look after myself, so I had to be smarter and not mess things up. I understood Tom. As soon as he said what he said, I understood. He would look after us and treat us well as long as were useful to him, as long as we didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain and knew how to be good property. I knew how to work hard and I knew all about churches and God and I could play the hardworking God worshipper if it meant a good life.

  ‘You’ve got to compromise sometimes, Goblin,’ David had said to me. ‘You have to allow a little leeway,’ and I knew now what he meant. I knew he had given me that advice so I wouldn’t go and mess up and just be stomped on. ‘You’re clever,’ he said. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

  So I nodded when Tom said no one damages his property and I said, ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’ I could tell at once that I needn’t have even said that because it didn’t need to be said, it just wouldn’t happen again, he was that sure. I could tell too that by saying it I might as well have written in my own blood that it wouldn’t happen again. John was a pain and not being able to pummel him was going to be hard work, but then I thought maybe it would build character. Maybe I shouldn’t just pummel people all the time. It’s not as if I have anything to prove. So, I thought, right. I’ll do this. I’ll build character and be all stoic-lipped.

  But I did ask for our work to be broken up between us, saying that we’d get things done quicker if we each had our own tasks instead of doing things together. Tom thought for a moment, then nodded. He sat us both down later that evening and told us what tasks we’d each do and I could tell John wasn’t happy but at least he didn’t know it was my idea and he had to obey Tom so that was that. I got my chores done a lot quicker since he wasn’t in the way and I didn’t have to do absolutely everything.

  John was still useless at shooting, though.

  ‘Luke,’ Tom said. ‘You sort him out.’

  So I had to teach the idiot to shoot, but he was terrible and he was pretending to be even more terrible just to provoke me. He’d worked out that I’d had some kind of warning and couldn’t hit him, no matter what, so he called me names, telling stories where horrible things happened to me, stories about my origin as Goblin and how my parents must have hated me, how everyone hated me. Sometimes all this rattled my stoic cage, but I just thought of Isabella and David and their advice and mostly managed to ignore him. I’d go into my head so that I didn’t even hardly hear him, he was just a drone, like the insects, except I liked insects.

  That was another thing – he didn’t like insects so he killed them and tortured them and left them alive all messed up and broken and I can’t even begin to tell you how badly I wanted to pummel him. I was stoic-lipped and tried my very best to make sure he didn’t see how much it bothered me, made sure he didn’t see how much I loved insects, because then I knew he would get worse, I knew it would be another thing for provoking me and more insects would get hurt so I stayed quiet even though I wanted to rescue the insects and pummel him and I got thinking that this compromising wasn’t as great as David had made out because the insects were still getting hurt and I was still getting hurt because it made me so damn sad and angry so what was the point if I was sad and angry anyway and I was thinking maybe I’d be better off out of this situation away from the pretend parents and the Idiot.

  That’s when I met her.

  Though, I’d met her before. I’d seen her get her head cracked against the station wall and I’d seen her a couple of times at school and in the town. She looked like some kind of angel, that’s what she looked like, with her bouncing curly black hair that sparkled in the sun. She had rosy cheeks and green eyes and she was the most beautiful thing. I don’t know how adults know when they fall in love, but I thought that was maybe what it felt like, the way I felt when I saw her, and between my legs I was all a-tingle like when I played with myself, and I imagined her, I imagined what she looked like playing with herself, and then she said, ‘You fucking shits.’

  I squinted at her, confused.

  ‘You fucking stinking shits.’

  I turned and saw John torturing a spider, pulling all its long legs off. She barrelled towards him and punched him and I reached out to stop her, thinking he’s property and I needed to protect the property and bloody hell was she gonna be in all kinds of trouble but then I realised she didn’t belong to Tom so maybe he couldn’t touch her and maybe she’d be okay. I smiled. Weeks of anger just melted away as I watched her punching and kicking John. When she finished she stomped right on that spider, putting it out of its misery because it was just all messed up beyond repair. She ground that spider into the dirt and looked at me with the most vicious look anyone has ever given me, even more vicious than ma, and she said, ‘You goddamn son of a whore stinking shit.’

  Then she was off, before I even had a chance to explain, before I even had a chance to tell her I thought she was some kind of angel, like you get in the Revelation book, all powerful and beautiful and you just don’t mess with those angels and I wanted to be on her side. I wanted her to love me.

  But she was gone, and she thought I was some sort of spider mutilator. It really ate away at me, right down in my belly, that she thought I would have anything to do with the Idiot if I had a choice. I wanted to explain. I played it out in my head over and over, changing small things here and there, but she would always listen, listen quietly to my whole story and then she’d take me in her arms and she’d kiss me on the head with those rose red lips and I would melt away, drifting. ‘My angel,’ I’d say, ‘my angel.’

  The Idiot got up out of the dirt where he lay next to the crushed spider and I wished he was the one that had his legs pulled off and was all crushed, but he wasn’t, he was alive and telling me how he’d see Tom and tell him I’d pummelled him, and you know what? I didn’t even care.

  ‘I don’t care,’ I said.

  It was true. At that moment, I’d stopped caring about having pretend parents, because the love of my life hated me and thought I was an idiot just like this Idiot in the dirt. I was about to kick him until he was all broken when old Mrs Bellhaven came over and said, ‘I saw it all. That girl is trouble.’

  She helped him up and marched him off.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ she said. ‘I saw everything.’

  I just sank into the dirt with the spider, stupefied, not knowing what was what anymore.

  ‘My angel,’ I said and stroked the spider corpse, covering it with dirt like it was a grave.

  It was then I started reading Revelation like mad. I was all fire and brimstone, I was all little goblin plague and blood.

  *

  I learned to swim in the sea.

  But not for months yet, and not a word was said to my Revelation angel. Winter was hard. Knee deep in snow and my chores became doubly difficult. We got through the winter with only a couple of dea
ths, a chicken and an old sheep, and I worked hard at home and at school and Tom was pleased with me, I could tell he was, but I can tell you something for certain – I was glad for spring. Long warm evenings playing with Corporal Pig in the woods and a summer holiday stretching out ahead with no schoolwork, only chores and roaming here and there when I’d done my bit.

  In April we had an Easter gathering in the church hall after the service and it was then I realised I’d missed my birthday in March. I was ten-years-old and I hadn’t even noticed, so to mark it I got a hold of a big slice of cake and said, ‘Happy very belated birthday to me myself,’ and I was just minding my own business stuffing cake into my mouth when I heard the words ‘Greedy London rat.’

  That’s what the old Snap-dragon called me. I pushed all the cake in, trying to chew, crumbs spilling on the floor.

  ‘No manners.’

  I knew she was right, I knew I couldn’t swallow the cake, I knew I was choking and I knew she had no manners either so I spat the cake on her feet and ran like I had a spitfire up my arse.

  That was the day I learned to swim in the sea and became best friends with Angel.

  I ran to the back of the church hall, poking my head round the corner to see if the Snap-dragon was following me, but she wasn’t. I knew I’d be in all kinds of trouble later, but right then I didn’t care. It was worth it to see the look on her bloated snooty face.

  ‘Hey, London Rat.’

  I almost jumped right out of my goblin-skin with fright. When I turned round and saw who it was I was so embarrassed that I almost fell over but I stood straight as can be and stared at her with my eyes narrowed, trying to pretend like I was oh-so-cool but inside I was churning, my tummy growling with nerves.

  ‘Well, that was a disaster,’ is surely what Queen Isabella would have helpfully pointed out and I could just see Amelia nodding in agreement.