Goblin

by Ever Dundas

  The Lizard King and I passed the weeks of the war travelling the Underground, performing, telling stories. I’d tell the tragic story of the Lizard King over and over, changing things here and there, more dramatic, less dramatic, sad, gruesome, even more gruesome until mums complained and clasped their hands over the ears of their children. I told the stories of Queen Isabella (who puffed her bloody chest out with pride), Scholler and Amelia. I told them of the kraken who eats the sun and the Crazy Old Pigeon Woman who kept birds in her hair.

  That’s when our lives changed, that’s when my future was written; my future in lights. It was all mapped out. I saw the soldier who’d given me money and made me rich for two weeks, I saw him in the crowd many times until one day he came up to us and said, ‘How would you like to join the circus?’

  London, 5 September 2011

  Alone in my hotel room, shut in, writing, missing home. I miss Mahler’s smell and his huffy noises as he sleeps, the way he sits by the fire with his paws in the air, his belly exposed.

  ‘Ben?’

  ‘Morning, old lady.’

  ‘I miss you, Ben. And I miss Mahler, the feel of his fur and his smell.’

  ‘Aye, but I bet ye dinnae miss his farts. They’re lethal.’

  I laugh.

  ‘I even miss that.’

  ‘Ye all homesick, old lady? Ye got anyone there? Old friends or something?’

  I eye Isabella, Amelia, Scholler and spectre-Monsta.

  ‘I do,’ I say.

  But they don’t smell of anything.

  ‘But it’s not the same.’

  ‘Ye seen the Detective yet? Once yev seen him ye can come back home, right?’

  ‘I don’t think it’ll be that simple.’

  ‘We could come visit.’

  ‘No. It’s not safe to bring Mahler here.’

  ‘The riots are over.’

  ‘I just think he’s better off at home with you. And I’m doing okay. My friends here aren’t so bad.’

  Isabella harrumphs.

  ‘Not so bad? Did you hear that, Amelia?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Ssh!’ I say, covering the mouthpiece. ‘You know I love you, you uppity queen.’

  ‘Old lady? You there?’

  ‘I’m here, sorry.’

  ‘Still writing?’

  ‘I am. About my new dad when he rescued me. Him and Mad. They took in me and the Lizard King and—’

  ‘Lizard people again, eh?’

  ‘That’s what I called him, that’s all. They took us in, all of us. I was so happy then, Ben. You would have loved them, you really would.’

  ‘I’m glad, old lady. Your other parents sounded like right cunts.’

  ‘That’s what the Lizard King used to call me.’

  Ben grunts.

  ‘He was just an old curmudgeon. He was alright. I better go, Ben. You give Mahler a kiss on the head for me.’

  ‘That’s minging.’

  I laugh.

  ‘A snuffle behind the ear, then.’

  ‘Yer batshit, old lady. I’ll think on it… I’ve kissed worse. Look after yersel and if ye need us, we’ll come down, drop of a hat.’

  Chapter 9

  London, 16 March 1943

  ‘I was down in the tunnels minding my own business, hiding this messed up face from the world, when this weecunt comes down and starts calling me Lizard King and bringing me offerings like I was some sort of god.’

  ‘Is that right, Goblin?’

  I nodded, blushing, letting my hair fall over my face. I’d let it grow out, just that bit longer than a bob. Mad was always getting at me to style it, but it was too much fuss and bother. She got me to wear some of her old dresses, though, as I’d grown out of my clothes. She showed me how to sew so I could take up the hem and take them in a bit. She said I looked pretty, but I thought I looked skinny and awkward, shifting around underneath this new feminine skin, not sure how to hold myself.

  I fiddled with the hem of my dress where my sewing hadn’t been so good and the thread was coming loose. The Lizard King pointed his cigarette at me, ash falling all over Adam the Flipper Boy who was sleeping on the floor with Groo on his chest. Adam was called Flipper Boy because he had no arms but he had hands that just kind of jutted out of his shoulders. He was a couple of years older than me and I had a crush on him. Seeing as he was asleep I took the opportunity to stare at him without him noticing and I thought about maybe asking him out.

  ‘Aye, I feckin hate weeuns, the weecunts that they are.’

  ‘I’m a grown-up now, LK,’ I said, watching Groo rise and fall with the rhythm of Adam’s breathing, ‘I’m all grown up.’

  ‘Issatright? Yer still runty ifyeaskme, eh?’

  ‘I’m with you, Fenwick,’ said Potato Pete. ‘Kids get away with murder these days.’ We called him Potato Pete because he had a face just like the Ministry of Food’s potato propaganda cartoon. I was sick of potatoes and I was sick of Potato Pete. All the while LK went on I manoeuvred myself so that I could tie Potato Pete’s shoelaces together, aware I was confirming their opinion of me as an immature weecunt.

  ‘So down she comes all the while, however much I tell ’er to feckrightoff, and she brings me ’er rations, eh? So I think I’m onto a good thing, getting free food, so I humour ’er, ken? And she spins this piece of nonsense story about how I got my scars and tells me this money making scheme idea, and like a fool I go along wi’ it.’

  Potato Pete tutted and I said, ‘We were a success, LK.’

  ‘Aye, well, if ye can call it that. It isnae my fault people are easily entertained, eh?’

  Potato Pete snorted and I sidled away from him, my work done. Old Louise, who’d been reading a leaflet, said, ‘Bloody conchies.’

  ‘Eh?’ said LK, ‘What was that?’

  ‘Bloody conchies and their protests. They handed me this.’

  ‘What they protesting?’

  ‘British internment camps.’

  ‘German lovin’ conchie bastards. Do they wanta be overrun by Nazi scum?’

  ‘I wouldn’t start on this,’ said Adam, who wasn’t asleep after all. He sat up, Groo tumbling onto the floor, and he cocked his head towards Matt. I didn’t know what any of this had to do with Matt. I wondered if he was a conchie.

  ‘Aye, well,’ said LK. ‘Jus’ sayin’, eh? Jus’ sayin’.’

  ‘My brother’s a conchie,’ I said. ‘Sometimes,’ I said. ‘Sometimes a pacifist is a good thing. He’s a good person. Sometimes that’s just how it is.’

  Old Louise, delight in her eyes, turned on me.

  ‘You a pacifist?’ old Louise said. ‘You a coward?’

  ‘No, ma’am! I’d shoot any Nazi who set foot on our shore.’

  I meant it. I wanted to protect our British way of life, like all the papers said. I wanted to protect our existence in the flat with James and Mad and LK and the artists, the performers, and the writers who came and went.

  ‘I’d shoot them dead,’ I said. ‘I’d shoot those Nazis dead.’

  Old Louise laughed.

  ‘I bet you would,’ she said. ‘But you won’t have to. Our troops are leading us to victory, you mark my words.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ said Adam.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘He in the army?’

  ‘No, he went to the sea.’

  ‘What sea?’

  ‘The sea.’

  ‘He a sailor?’

  ‘He joined the pirates. He fights krakens. He married a mermaid.’

  ‘How,’ said LK, ‘can he be a conchie bastard if he’s a pirate and fights krakens?’

  ‘He doesn’t kill humans. Just krakens.’

  ‘See what I mean,’ said LK, gesturing with his cigarette, ‘a weecunt.’

  ‘And you’re just a boring old fart,’ I said.

  LK doubled over coughing, spewing out smoke. There were snorts of laughter, some cheers and claps, and a chorus of ‘Weecunt! Old fart! I’ll drink to that,’
and they did. They drank to anything. I looked round, embarrassed, not realising so many people had been listening. Adam winked at me and I blushed some more. The excitement died down, with only a few mumbles here and there as LK heaved in air.

  I saw something was going on at the other side of the room; a raised voice and a knocked over chair. Fights were always breaking out, so I wasn’t much surprised. I saw it was Matt causing the fuss. He was crying. James took a hold of him, almost forcing him into an embrace and that just made him shake and cry all the harder. I’d never seen a man cry before.

  ‘What’s up with Matt?’ I asked.

  ‘His friend,’ said Adam. ‘His friend was taken to an internment camp.’

  ‘Ha! His friend. That’s a way of putting it,’ said LK.

  ‘Why’s he in a camp?’

  ‘He’s German,’ said Adam.

  ‘If ye ask me, all fruits should be locked up.’

  ‘What’s a fruit?’

  LK was about to reply but Adam said, ‘A German. That’s all. He was German.’

  ‘Good riddance to Germans,’ I said. ‘He’s probably a Nazi spy, that’ll be why he’s locked up.’

  ‘He killed himself,’ said Adam, looking over at Matt.

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘The fruit,’ said LK. ‘Those perverts are better off dead if ye ask me.’

  ‘Nobody asked you,’ said Adam. ‘No one fucking asked you.’

  A hush fell over our small group and LK looked down at his hands, mumbling, glancing up at Adam who’d gone over to Matt, taking him out of James’ embrace and leading him out of the room. I watched them walk off, worried I’d said the wrong thing and Adam would hate me for it.

  ‘Dinnae ken what’s wrong with ’im. There wis no need… No need. Only saying what should be plain to all, that’s what. Only speaking ma mind.’

  ‘I’m with you, old man,’ said Potato Pete, raising a glass to him. ‘Don’t you worry.’

  The music stopped and the lights went off. I thought there’d been a power cut but then I saw Mad standing in the doorway with a cake, the candlelight shimmering across her face. She sang happy birthday and the rest joined in, quietly at first as if they didn’t want to drown out her beautiful voice, then they got louder. Arms fell across my shoulders, hands patted my back and ruffled my hair.

  I didn’t know this party was for me. I thought it was just another party, like all the others. No one had ever made me cake before and it must have taken a lot to pull together all those rations. I felt sick and pleased all at once.

  Everyone cheered and Mad told me to make a wish, and I couldn’t decide. I had a million wishes to make.

  ‘World peace!’ someone yelled, and it echoed through the room before LK damned them all with, ‘Now who’s a boring fart, eh? All of ye. World peace ferfecksake, we all know she’s gonna wish to be a pirate or some such nonsense, eh ye weecunt?’ They all laughed and yelled ‘Pirate! Pirate!’ as I wished for David back. I figured it was the same difference as wishing to be a pirate because David for certain was a pirate by now and he would make me a pirate and we’d sail the seas together and we’d find treasure and I’d marry a mermaid too. I pictured him in my head but he was fuzzy and black and white, smudged at the edges like the faded photograph I carried. I decided it didn’t matter. He was a pirate now and he’d look different; swarthy and all muscle, wielding a sword. There he was, on his ship, in glorious technicolour.

  I blew out the candles and Potato Pete stood up and fell on his face.

  London, 1944 – 1945

  People always came to the flat, hanging around, drinking, staying the night. I called them the Army Rejects because most of them were from the Freaks and Wonders troupe in the circus days and most of them had deformities. There was old Louise and her dwarf brass band; Betsy, Frank, Holly and Lester. Old Louise’s singing was really something but their musical abilities were what old Louise described as ‘Avant-garde, dahling,’ and everyone else described as a godawful racket.

  Then there was Lenny the Giant but I called him Lenny the Spider because his limbs were so long he looked like a spider, especially when he was sat down and he was all legs and arms. And there was Adeline and Ariadne, the beautiful conjoined twins. There was also Maisie. She had growths coming out either side of her neck. Adeline told me that they found Maisie in the street and she would charge people who wanted to touch her growths but when I flipped her a shilling and went and felt them she pushed me off and slapped me. The growths felt all rubbery and she was a snooty bitch so I told everyone she was a faker and that they were just glued on to make herself seem more interesting.

  Then there was Adam. We hung around together and I eventually asked him out. He was telling me that when he was in the circus he wrapped his fingers up to make his hands more like flippers and he’d hide his legs and paint his whole body a silvery grey and during his act he would make seal noises and balance a ball on his nose. When he told me about painting his body I thought of him with nothing on but the paint and I went to my room and played with myself as I thought of painting him, stroking him slowly all over. It was after that I asked him if he would go with me, though it was a while before I saw him with nothing on. He was a good kisser and he taught me to play poker. He didn’t have any parents either; they’d sold him to a sideshow in Brighton. The sideshow owners kept him locked in a cage until James rescued him. I heard the story from James, from Mad, from Adam and from anyone else who would tell it. Each time it was different.

  ‘James broke in at night,’ said old Louise, ‘he was attacked by a monkey and poisoned by a snake but still he saved Flipper Boy, even while he fought off a ten foot giant.’

  ‘It’s true what old Louise said,’ said Adam. ‘I watched from my cage as he wrestled with that snake. He didn’t have to fight off the giant, though. Lenny was a right softie, he only roared and beat his chest for the show. James had him in the palm of his hand the moment he walked in.’

  ‘I’d heard about the boy locked up in the cage,’ said James, ‘so I paid the sideshow a visit and paid a hefty price for Adam. Lenny simply followed me, leaving of his own free will. That’s all.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Frank, one of the dwarfs who played the tuba in the brass band. ‘He’s just down-playing it all because he doesn’t want to get caught after stabbing the sideshow proprietor and stealing Adam. It was in all the papers.’

  ‘James killed a man?’

  ‘So they say.’

  ‘Who’s “they”?’

  ‘The papers. He will have killed plenty more by now, eh, Goblin? But it’s for King and country. God save the King.’

  I asked Mad if James had killed a man but she just said, ‘Don’t listen to those gossip-mongers and storytellers, G. There’s nothing controversial here apart from that bastard who locked up Adam.’

  There were many stories like that; tales woven by so many different people that no one knew what was true anymore and the tales flowed when the wine flowed. People came and went, an old circus family stayed for months after being bombed out, others just dropped by, sleeping on the couch, in the bath, in the hallway. The circus men who weren’t freaks were drafted. Everyone else worked, even the freaks.

  ‘No one wanted us before,’ said old Louise. ‘But now there’s a war on they can find work for us. Now there’s a war on we’re worth something.’

  ‘Not me,’ said Adam. ‘I’m not worth anything.’

  No one would give him a job – they just took one look at his hands and turned him away.

  ‘You are worth something,’ I said, ‘They’re just idiots.’

  We retreated to my bedroom where I kicked out Holly and Lester who were sprawled out on my bed having some drunken conversation. Adam lay down on my bed and I curled up next to him, my leg over his, my arm around his waist. I burrowed my head into his neck, smelling and kissing him.

  ‘You’re my first girlfriend,’ he said. ‘Girls can’t see past these. Not like you.’

&
nbsp; I pulled back and looked at him for a moment.

  ‘Why would I see past them?’ I said.

  I kissed him on the lips and pressed myself into him, rubbing myself against his thigh. I flicked my tongue out, like a lizard, tasting him. His tongue met mine and pushed into my mouth.

  ‘Goblin!’

  I jumped, pulling away from Adam.

  ‘Goblin?’ said Mad. She knocked on the door. ‘You in there? You’ve not done your chores. The kitchen’s a mess.’

  I rolled my eyes at Adam and said, ‘I’ll do them later.’

  ‘You said that yesterday. Now, Goblin.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’m coming.’

  I kissed Adam and said, ‘There’s never any peace here.’

  He came with me and helped with my chores. Old Louise was sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer and singing to herself. Adam and I swayed to the sound of her voice, bumping up against each other, giving each other love-eyes as we tidied and cleaned.

  *

  One morning after one of our parties I woke up with my stomach all cramped up and I thought I was dying, but then I bled from between my legs and I knew I was okay. When I felt the wetness I put my hand in my pants and my fingers came away bloody. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and smeared the blood across my cheeks like I was a warrior.

  I went to my room and tore up an old shirt, stuffing it in my pants. I was worrying about what ma had said about the curse and having babies so I went to find Mad. She was having breakfast in the kitchen with old Louise. I sat down and helped myself to toast. Mad poured me some tea.

  ‘What’s that on your face?’

  ‘The curse.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The curse came.’

  Mad and Louise looked at each other, eyebrows raised, then laughed. Old Louise had quite the cackle and Lizard King shouted through from the sitting room for her to keep it down.