Goblin

by Ever Dundas

  ‘Don’t you know there’s a war on?’ she said, pulling at me by the ear, forcing me to look at her big tank of a face. ‘Have some respect.’

  She let me go and I dropped to the ground next to Monsta, who swayed, unconcerned.

  ‘I can’t count,’ I said to Monsta, ‘how many times people have said to me, “Don’t you know there’s a bleedin’ war on?”’

  ‘What’s that?’ Doris said. ‘You giving me cheek?’

  ‘I said I know there’s a war on.’

  ‘You don’t act like it. You get home and you behave like a proper girl, you hear me? You wait till I see your mother.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll wait, you can wait, we all can wait.’

  She leaned down, her big face right at mine.

  ‘You’ve always been an oddball. You know that?’

  ‘I know, I know, of course I know, we all know, and doncha know? There’s a bleedin’ war on. We all know.’

  ‘Get!’ she said, and I pulled myself up, grabbing Monsta, grabbing at the hand. I scrambled over to the water tank, where I’d dropped my scooter but it was gone, one of the kids had taken it, so I was running instead, running like I had an incendiary up my arse.

  ‘I know where you live!’ old Doris yelled after me. ‘I’ll be having a word with your mum, you devil!’

  ‘No Devils here,’ I said to Monsta, and I ran and ran until we got to our house and I collapsed at the door, the money and buttons and sweets weighing heavy in my pockets and I thought of the number of times people have said to me, you’re an oddball, you’re a strange one, you really are a queer one, the number of times I’ve lost count and I said, breathing heavy, ‘Monsta, we don’t belong here. I don’t know where we belong, but not here.’

  I crawled my way into the house and turned my pockets inside out and out sprayed all the treasure. I rummaged through it. I thought of old Doris and her threats and I thought, I’m free as a bird, with no parents to tell anything to. I’m free as a bird and who cares about that old tank Doris.

  I hadn’t eaten all day, except some bread at breakfast and my stomach growled like a monster.

  ‘I could eat the whole of London, Monsta, I truly could,’ I said, looking at my treasure. ‘But sweets won’t do it, I’ll make us a feast to end all feasts!’

  I made us all dinner, me and Monsta, Groo, Billy Bones, Dr Kemp, and Captain Flint. Monsta and I had boiled potatoes, corned beef and some cheese, which we shared with Groo. I gave the chickens lettuce and cereal. Captain Flint had some of the corned beef and a bit of apple too, but he was mostly good at catching his own dinner – worms and insects from the garden – so I usually only fed him as a treat. We feasted like kings that night, sick and fat and roly-poly with our dinner in our bellies, like big fat barrage balloon slug-kings.

  ‘Ugh, I’m stuffed. I’m full to popping.’

  I slapped my belly and you could still see my ribs from when I travelled back from the sea.

  *

  The next morning I got on with making a new scooter and took the hand to Kensal Green Cemetery. I took it there to bury it and on my way I stopped and charged all the kids for a look making sure I kept a hold of my scooter to scooter away if trouble was in sight. The older kids, the ones I couldn’t pummel, they looked at me all squint-eyed oi boy whatcha doin? and I got on my scooter with my pockets full of treasure and went to the in-between realm where I dug a hole for the hand.

  I put some pennies on the hand and said our lizard who art in the darkness below hallowed be thy name consecrate this hand unto the earth and may it rest in peace, amen.

  I got more food in, but this time I was careful. I kept some locked away instead of having a feast and being fat like a slug on the floor and we, me and Monsta and the rest of the family, we ate together every day, just us, until the police came and they said about the river. It was finished. Our life in this house was over. No more just me and the animal family. Our lizards who art in the darkness below why hast thou forsaken me? Boy, they said. Boy? You hear what I’m saying? It must be a shock, but we can help. Hallowed be thy name, hallowed be thy name. Boy, it’s going to be alright. Can you hear me? It’s going to be alright. But it wasn’t. They were going to take me away.

  Chapter 8

  London, 8 August 2011

  ‘We’re dealing with the riots. Hundreds of arrests. Are you hearing me? Your case will have to wait.’

  ‘It waited this long. What does it matter?’

  ‘Don’t disappear on me. Stay in London and I’ll be in touch. This is murder we’re talking about, however long ago. We’re taking this very seriously.’

  ‘I won’t disappear. I’m here now. Queen Isabella won’t let me go.’

  ‘Good. You catch up with your friends and I’ll call you when all this is under control.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asks Isabella.

  ‘He said it can wait.’

  I call Ben. I’d asked him to stay at my flat and look after Mahler for me. I didn’t want to bring Mahler to London. I wanted him to be safe, and he would be, at home with Ben.

  ‘How are you?’ I said. ‘How’s Mahler?’

  ‘We’re all good, old lady. Everything’s fine. How’s London?’

  ‘On fire.’

  ‘Ye better watch yersel. Keep safe.’

  ‘I am safe.’

  ‘Where ye staying?’

  ‘Some cheap hotel. It’s far away from the riots, so don’t you worry. How’s Mahler and Sam?’

  ‘I cannae move right now, can I? Mahler is stretched out on my legs. Sam is snoring by the fire.’

  ‘That’s good, Ben. I’m glad Mahler has you.’

  ‘Did ye see that Detective yet?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s busy with the riots.’

  ‘He harasses ye and now he doesnae even want to speak to ye?’

  ‘I can wait. I hope you’ll be alright looking after Mahler a bit longer.’

  ‘Aye, he’s nae bother. Though, I dinnae ken why ye didnae take him with ye.’

  ‘I wanted him to be safe.’

  ‘He’s safe as can be, dinnae worry.’

  ‘Good. What have you been up to, Ben? Are you still smelling books?’

  ‘I don’t do that anymore. I’ve gone back to reading – I’ve reached K.’

  ‘What K book are you on?’

  ‘The Palace of Dreams by Kadare. It’s about some totalitarian government that monitors people’s dreams. Just like living under a Tory surveillance state, eh?’

  ‘It sounds good.’

  ‘It is. I’ve had to read a lot of rubbish first, though.’

  ‘Life’s too short for bad books – why don’t you skip them?’

  ‘Then I wouldnae be reading from A to Z. It wouldnae be right.’

  ‘I miss you, Ben,’ I say.

  ‘Are ye laughing at me, old lady?’

  ‘Maybe. But I like your dedication.’

  Ben doesn’t reply.

  ‘Ben? You still there?’

  ‘Aye, sorry. I better go – Mahler’s woken up and wants his walk. Not sure I can get Sam moving, though.’

  ‘Give Mahler a hug for me.’

  ‘Aye. And take care of yersel, mind. Dinnae go out in the streets.’

  ‘I’m fine, Ben. You don’t need to worry about me.’

  *

  CCTV, cameras, mobiles. Everything is recorded. News channel helicopters circle. Rioters and looters film each other.

  I walk the streets and see the ghosts of the buildings that haunt this city. We erase the past and the present, but it all stays, hunkered down.

  A car is crumpled beneath flames. A rioter stalks past, beer in one hand, a stick in the other, their face covered by a scarf, hood pulled over their head. Joining others outside a supermarket, they smash a window. I watch the glass cave in. They hop through the window and emerge with anything they can carry. In and out they go. Some stock up trolleys and wheel them off.

  I once said to Ben, what would you do if these buildings disappeared
? If they went up in flames? How would you feel? I’d dance in the flames, he said. I’d dance. So I close my eyes and I dance. ‘Stay safe, old lady,’ he said to me, but London burns and I sway, feeling the heat. When I open my eyes, I see the looters have joined my dance. Some dare each other, dancing close to the flames. I weave my way through them and walk away from the fire, my feet crunching on smashed glass.

  Time has collapsed, and we are there and here. London is burning, the headlines scrolling in a flurried panic across the screen. BREAKING NEWS. A capitalist warzone of burning cars and stolen flat screen TVs.

  The pet massacre has been wiped off the page of every newspaper. What does the past matter when London is in flames now?

  London, April 1941

  ‘It was an accident,’ they said, ‘we’re sure it was an accident.’ Sure, I thought, sure, we all know it wasn’t any kind of accident. Ma was dead, drowned herself in the Thames. Ma was dead and I was gone. I didn’t go with the policeman. I slipped through that door, jumped on my scooter and I was off. They weren’t taking me to some orphanage. They weren’t putting me on a train to the sea and the attic and the unholy bastards. I was my own person now and I had a family to look after. I waited, watching until they’d gone and I crept back and I gathered my family and blankets and food and off we went on the Underground to Kensal Green and our new home in the crypt.

  ‘It’s only temporary,’ I said to them. ‘It’s only until the heat is off.’

  Captain Flint sat on my shoulder. Groo prowled round the crypt, sniffing and peeing and scratching.

  ‘Get!’ I yelled, ‘Don’t go stinking up this crypt. Do your peeing outside.’

  ‘Well, this is a fine situation.’

  Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler were standing at the entrance, looking down on us all.

  ‘Yes,’ said Amelia, ‘a fine situation.’

  ‘Don’t you two start. I’m doing the best I can.’

  ‘It’s the orphanage for you,’ said Amelia, looking very smug indeed.

  ‘No, Miss Amelia, I’m not going to some orphanage to be murdered by the likes of you,’ I said, collecting some leaves for the chickens, ‘I’ll get our house back. I will.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Amelia.

  ‘Come,’ said Queen Isabella, ‘I can’t stand the stink of these beasts.’

  ‘A lot of good you lot are,’ I said, watching them walk off amongst the gravestones.

  I got some more leaves and put them in the corner and the chickens scratched around and clucked and seemed content, but then Dr Kemp started pecking at Billy Bones. That Dr Kemp would peck Billy Bones’ feathers right out so that he’d be all patchy and his arse was as naked as could be. That naked chicken arse looked like a chicken arse you’d eat, just like you’d get from the butchers, except this chicken was walking around and if you so much as tried to shove it in the oven for the Sunday roast it would peck your eyes out for certain. It made me think of Cornwall and that old Wendy who really did have a face like a chicken arse and I started to think about that and about Angel and the sea. I wrote to her and told her all my woes, but I didn’t send it. I read it over then ripped it up. I was going to write to her after she told me Ann and Bill were adopting her but I didn’t and she sent me another postcard saying she’d made a friend, one of the town kids. She said I’d like him, he was almost as crazy as me. I didn’t reply. The next few postcards she was more worried and I liked making her worry, making her wait. And anyway, I had more important things to think about, I had problems to solve; a home to get back and a stressed out chicken I needed to keep from bullying Mr Bones.

  I went back to the neighbourhood every day, keeping an eye on the house. The policemen returned, looked round the house and talked to some neighbours. No house, and ma’s money was running out. We’d no longer have rations for a whole family. We’d starve, we’d die from cold.

  I went back to the family and we discussed our situation and I said, ‘Chickens, you’ve got to earn your keep.’

  Not long after CP disappeared, I trained the chickens to come when I called to make sure I could keep them from danger. I pretended they were my crew on the good ship Goblin. I’d call ‘Crew!’ and shake their food and they’d come running. I decided to see if they’d still come if I only called and didn’t shake any food for them and they did but they’d fuss and cluck around me, expectant. When I saw how they thought the word crew meant they’d get food I decided to see if I could teach them tricks.

  I held an old walking stick horizontal just above the ground and in the other hand I held their food. If they sidled round the stick to get to the food I wouldn’t give them anything. If they jumped the stick I made a clicking noise with my tongue and gave them a reward. They were clever those chickens, they caught on pretty quickly. I raised the stick higher and higher until I thought it looked impressive enough. I worked with them every day, trying out different ideas.

  ‘We’ll be an Underground hit, me and my chicken crew,’ I said to Groo, who yawned at me. ‘We’ll be a sensation!’

  Off we went, busking on the Underground, collecting pennies. We always went to the same station, taking the same route every day. We’d get funny looks from people but I’d pretend like I didn’t notice, nose in air, marching along, calling ‘Crew!’ if they stopped to gobble some insects or roll about in the dust. And off we’d march, people turning to look at us, laughing and calling me Chicken Boy.

  We soon had regulars watching our show at the station, laughing and clapping, oohing and aahing when the chickens jumped the stick or jumped through a hoop. I took my scooter apart, leaving only the board with the wheels and tied on a bit of string. When I called Billy Bones he’d jump on the board and when I clicked my fingers Dr Kemp picked up the string in his beak and pulled Billy along the platform. I got cheers and laughter for that one and the chickens got their treats as I was showered with pennies. I worried I might have some trouble with chicken stealers but the regulars soon saw to anyone who tried it on.

  ‘We’re the breadwinners now,’ I said to the chicken crew, pouring the coins onto the floor of our crypt. ‘Now I need to figure out how to get our house back.’

  *

  I went back to our neighbourhood with Monsta every day, leaving the rest of the family in the cemetery. On this day, I stood at Miss Campbell’s gate, all lost in my head, staring at my house. I didn’t know what good just staring at it would do, but that’s what I did, keeping my distance in case the police came back. I was all lost in my head and almost fell in the road with fright when Miss Campbell shouted, ‘Goblin!’ I dropped Monsta who looked all put out and was moody the rest of the day, but it turned out to be a good thing me loitering at Miss Campbell’s. I’d forgotten about poor Betty what with all the troubles I’d been having and I thought Miss Campbell would be mighty mad but she wasn’t, she was just glad I was alright because the police had been round all the neighbours and she thought something had happened to me. Betty came ambling out the door, but when she saw me she trundled down the path and I bent down and she barked in my face and slobbered all over me her tail going like crazy. I ruffled her head and told her I was sorry and I told Miss Campbell my story of woe and tribulations, telling her that no way was I going to an orphanage and losing my family and who would walk Betty, miss? Who? Miss Campbell eyed me for a bit before saying, ‘Don’t you worry, Goblin. I’ll get the authorities off your back.’

  ‘You serious, miss?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Why would you do that, miss?’

  ‘I’ll be straight with you,’ she said, ‘I don’t like kids and I don’t much like adults either.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, ‘Ma said you were gonna die a withered old maid.’

  ‘She did, did she?’

  ‘Yeah, but what did she know?’

  ‘She’s probably right. I like to keep to my own company, but you’re different.’

  ‘That’ll be cos I’m part-goblin, miss.’

  ‘Even so,
’ she said, ‘I don’t want responsibility for any children, part-goblin or not. But we can help each other out, can’t we?’

  ‘Sure, miss.’

  ‘You can move back to your home with your family and as well as walking old Betty you can do some chores for me, you can get in the food so I don’t have to waste my free time standing in queues for hours. I’ll pay you, Goblin, and you can come round here for your dinner now and then.’

  ‘So you’ll get the authorities off my back, miss?’

  ‘Just leave it all to me, Goblin.’

  ‘Hail the lizards!’ I said to Monsta as I skipped back along the street, back to Kensal Green Cemetery to tell the family the good news. I couldn’t wait to rub it in that Amelia’s smug face.

  *

  Miss Campbell told the authorities she’d be my guardian and that a relative would come over from the U.S. to look after me in a few months. So we all moved back home and every day I walked old Betty and did some chores and Miss Campbell paid me. She had me over for dinner sometimes but she was so busy working I didn’t see her all that often. The money she gave me helped feed the family, and I thought I could do chores for the whole neighbourhood as well as fix anything that needed fixing and that way I could pay the rent when old Martha’s son came to sort out her affairs.

  The family was happy and me and Monsta, we were busy – we became death-defiers, animal rescuers. At night we’d scooter round the city watching the parachute flares glowing all amber and green, casting spooky colours and shadows across the buildings. Ping ping ping, incendiaries littered the road, fizzing and sparking, lighting up Monsta all strange with their green-white flames.

  ‘The Martians are here,’ I said to Monsta, sure that I saw their giant insect legs pick their way through the streets, slicing through the smoke and dust. I put on my gas mask and walked through the devastation, Monsta clinging to my neck, peering over my shoulder. Flames erupted amongst the rubble and I skipped between them, watching the insect-Martian disappear to the sound of a distant explosion. People were scattered around the street, plunging their stirrup pumps into buckets, drenching the bombs. I got water from tanks for people who were having a hard time of it, fetching and carrying until those demons were dead then off we’d go, scootering round the street looking for animals. Monsta and I, we’d sneak sneak sneak round the ARP wardens and cordoned off bomb-filled streets picking up any pets we could find, searching for hours, peering in windows, breaking into houses, picking them up right off the street, chasing them, coaxing them if they weren’t of the disposition that would make them so inclined to come near us pet-napping bomb-defiers. We’d make trip upon trip upon sneaky trip in and out of the danger zone with cats, dogs, rabbits and birds.