Goblin

by Ever Dundas

I took a drink, but Angelina just looked at me, eyes narrowed and said, ‘How long have you been watching me for?’

  I swallowed the whisky and coughed. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘It’s been weeks, right?’

  ‘I was just—’

  ‘Were you ever going to make a move? Or just watch me from a distance?’

  She leaned in, kissed me and that was us – Goblin-clown and Glitter Queen, the gossip of the circus.

  We met up every evening, talking about our childhoods, discussing rehearsals, drinking and fucking into the night.

  ‘My first love was an Angel,’ I said. ‘Just like you – all fire and brimstone.’

  But our relationship was more tempestuous; I’d get jealous as she flirted with her fans, convinced I was going to lose her to one of the men who showered her with gifts. She did interviews for magazines, telling them she was single and just waiting ‘for the right man.’

  ‘Are you ashamed of me?’ I said.

  ‘Of course not, G. It’s all publicity – I’d lose my fans if they knew we were together.’

  The clown troupe changed towards me when they found out I was with Angelina. They didn’t do or say anything overt, but I could see there was something up the way the glanced at each other whenever I mentioned her, and when I joined them for drinks I could tell they didn’t want me there anymore. I didn’t know what to do; there was nothing I could point to that had really changed and I knew they’d just deny it, so I went on as if everything was fine. Our work didn’t suffer – we were still a great team, so I decided to leave it, thinking it would eventually all work out.

  Dave, the aerialist who’d been giving Angelina trouble, called me over one morning. He waved a magazine at me, pointing to one of her interviews.

  ‘Are you man enough for her, Goblin? Do you have what it takes?’ he said and grabbed at his groin, grinning at me. I wanted to hurt him, but I didn’t stand a chance, so I clenched my fists and stalked away, listening to him laugh.

  I told her and I thought she’d be on side, given the trouble she’d had with him, but all she said was, ‘Ah, just ignore him, G, he’s a child.’ And when I wouldn’t let it go she said she had no patience for my ‘neurotics’.

  I can’t count the times we’d fight and split up and be back together again by morning. I enjoyed the drama of it at first, but we were together for over four years and it started to wear me down; whenever anyone in the circus glanced my way I would prickle, already defensive, sure I knew what they were thinking about me, about us. It was too much to be in the fishbowl; I loved when we went home over the Christmas period. Angelina and I would hole up together, enjoying being away from the noise and stress of circus life. Over Christmas and New Year ’58 and ’59 we watched Quatermass and the Pit, gripped by the unfolding story of Martians and genetically modified humans, but then Angelina teased me when I had to stop watching because it gave me nightmares.

  She gave me Frankenstein by Mary Shelley for Christmas. When I opened it I wanted to throw it back in her face. It’s David who should have given me the book. He had said he would and Angelina had ruined it.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Angelina.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You told me you loved the films. You said you’d never read it, so I thought—’

  ‘I loved the films when I was a kid, that’s all.’

  I apologised later, telling her it reminded me of the past and I didn’t want to think of the past anymore. She kept on about it, though, just like Adam – grilling me about the past, about David and why I was searching for him. She couldn’t just let it be. And I was growing tired of things always being so uncertain, sad that I no longer felt at ease in the circus, so I ended it, spring of ’59. There was a hubbub just after we split, but it died down and it felt like things were back to normal – no more eyes on me, no more razor tongues.

  Angelina and I became friends after a month of her telling me to go fuck myself. She turned up at my caravan with whisky and said, ‘This is stupid, G. We can be friends, right?’

  We met up off and on, but mostly I retreated to my caravan, devouring books – Wilde, Saki, Nesbit, Woolf, Orwell – and writing; I’d kept a diary for years, only sporadically writing fiction, but now I wrote down many of the stories Pigeon had told me. I changed them, elaborating, expanding. And I wrote a semi-fictional account of the adventures of Corporal Pig and fragments about the circus.

  Before Angelina and I had hooked up I used to meet mum and dad once a week for dinner or an evening drink, catching up, telling stories, singing, but Glitter Queen had consumed me and we’d only met up sporadically when I was with her. Mum and dad didn’t say a word; they welcomed me back as if nothing had changed.

  We sat outside their caravan, next to a small fire, drinking beer. I read them my favourite Saki, Sredni Vashtar, which they loved. And we chatted, catching up. Mum told me she was learning Polish – we’d ran auditions when we were in Newcastle and Ania Przybylski had wowed us with her acrobatic skills. She’d left Poland with her family in 1937, but she’d never felt settled. She fit in with the circus like it had been her whole life. Mum and Ania became close and Ania would teach her Polish songs. Mum loved the language and spent every spare minute she had learning and practicing.

  Mum sang us a Polish song and I watched dad watching her, still so very much in love all these years later. I asked them about when they met.

  ‘It was love at first sight,’ said dad.

  Mum laughed and said, ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Of course that’s right.’

  ‘The way I remember it you didn’t even notice me – you were going out with Booby Betsy at the time.’

  I laughed and watched dad squirm.

  ‘You know it,’ said mum, nudging him.

  ‘I fell for you. I just didn’t want to let Betsy down.’

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  ‘I’d been going out with Betsy for three weeks,’ he said to me. ‘What kind of man drops a girl so quickly? But I was smitten with your mum.’

  Dad came from a family of circus folk – his granddad had started a small family circus which James’ dad took over. It passed to James when his dad died in The Great War. Mum’s dad worked at the London docks, expecting his two sons to follow him.

  ‘He planned to marry me off as soon as possible,’ said mum. ‘He’d say to people: “One less mouth to feed.” I didn’t hold a grudge – it was difficult for him to provide for us all on his wage. But I knew I’d make my own way. I started dancing at the local theatre and it was there I met your dad. He came back after the show and outlined then and there what the circus could offer me. I snapped it up without a thought – packed my things, said goodbye to my family, who were relieved to see the problem of a daughter solved. I kept in touch as I travelled – sending postcards, sometimes money. And your dad asked me out a week after I joined the circus.’

  ‘What about Booby Betsy?’ I asked.

  ‘She threw wine in my face,’ said mum.

  ‘No!’

  ‘She did. I got off lightly, though – she dumped camel shit in your dad’s bed.’

  ‘I like the sound of her,’ I said, and laughed with mum as dad just sat there, smiling and shaking his head. He put his arm around mum and said, ‘It was worth it. I’d suffer a whole caravan of camel shit for you.’

  Mum pulled away and hit him across the shoulder. He pulled her back to him and kissed her.

  ‘C’mon!’ I said as the kiss went on.

  They broke apart and dad said, ‘The most amazing woman in the world and she’s all mine.’

  Mum, blushing, smiled and looked over at me, ‘And what about you, Goblin? Your life is all drama.’

  ‘Aah,’ I said, looking down and taking a drink, ‘Angelina and I are over.’

  ‘You okay?’

  I shrugged and said, ‘Yeah. Things are getting back to normal.’

  ‘If you need to talk, we’re here,’ she said.

  I was
about to tell her about the clown troupe being awkward around me, but I shook my head and said, ‘Things are fine now.’ I smiled at her, ‘Really. I’m good.’

  I finished off my beer and said, ‘How about a song before I turn in?’ And I watched dad watching mum as she sang I’ll Be Seeing You – ‘I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.’ She swayed, looking into the dying flames of our fire and I watched him, wondering if one day someone would love me the way he loved her.

  *

  The clown troupe thawed after I split with Angelina, but I was pissed with the way they’d treated me and Marv got all weird again when I was in another relationship – summer ’61 I fell in love with Tim, one of the freak-boys we picked up on our travels.

  ‘I thought you’d turned queer,’ said Marv. ‘Adam, Angelina, now Tim. Can’t you decide which side you play for?’

  I gawped at him for a moment, unsure what to say. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  ‘I’m not on any side, Marv. Fish Boys, Glitter Queens…What does it matter?’

  ‘You just better be careful, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘D’ya have a problem with me, Marv?’

  ‘Nah, G. I’m jus’ jealous. Glitter Queen…’ He whistled. ‘Plenty woulda wanted to be in your shoes. Can’t believe you dumped her for Fish Boy.’

  ‘I didn’t dump her, Marv. It just ended. And Fish Boy came later.’

  ‘I heard you dumped her.’

  I shrugged and said, ‘It was mutual.’

  Marv grunted and didn’t say anything else about it after that.

  We’d picked up Tim in a seaside town in the south of England. I was helping out at the ticket booth when he wandered up and said, ‘You looking for any freaks?’

  I looked him up and down, this Montgomery Clift dream, and said, ‘Sure, you know any?’

  He held up his left hand, fingers splayed to show me the webbing. I whistled. This sure was love at first sight.

  ‘I’ve worked at a sideshow in this shithole for years. I’m looking to see the world.’

  ‘You’ll need to speak with James and Mad. I don’t know if they’re hiring right now. Money is tight.’

  ‘I can earn my way.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He stared at me and said, ‘I like your tattoos.’

  ‘I collect them,’ I said. ‘Every town and city, I get a new one.’

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said.

  ‘You’re a charmer,’ I said. ‘I’m not the one you should be charming. James and Mad will make the decision whether you can join us or not.’

  He painted himself blue and green and called himself Fish Boy, the Wonder of the Deep. He joined me when I went for tattoos, adding to his fish scales – he had scales tattooed on every inch of his body, including his face. He looked beautiful, a stunning merman. It was the only time I didn’t join him; I didn’t want face tattoos because I didn’t like the idea of always being on show. I was sure one day I’d want to hide, to disappear in a crowd. Maisie said that was a luxury that most of the freaks didn’t have.

  When I had time I’d go and watch the Freaks and Wonders performances. Ariadne and Adeline were first; Ariadne would play the accordion as Adeline sang a song. They were on a rotating platform so people could look at where they were joined together. The main stage in Freaks and Wonders was for the dwarves, Old Louise and her brass band; she’d mesmerise the audience with her beautiful voice. Lenny the giant would play the tambourine but he was a terrible musician and was only there to emphasise the extremes of stature. As the dwarves performed people would stand in line for Morgana, The Fat Lady fortune teller. She’d wear a skimpy outfit, usually a homemade bikini embellished with sequins, so that people could ogle her curves and folds of fat as she told them their fate.

  Fish Boy and I were next up. Clowning and the animals were my priorities, but after hooking up with Fish Boy I helped him with his act and did some stints as The Tattooed Woman. I’d flex my muscles and tell stories of pirates and sea monsters. I’d tell the story of a Goblin-child hunting for her long-lost brother only to find he was enchanted, turned into a merman, the memory of his previous life lost.

  Fish Boy played his part in my story, becoming my merman brother. We made his fish tail together, matching the blues and greens of his tattoos. He’d swim in a tank of water, sometimes hovering at the glass, his webbed hands pressed up against it for the kids to see. When our story was finished he’d flick his tail, splashing the kids who would run off screaming, straight to the Lizard King who was waiting to tell them the story of how he cried tears of acid.

  I watched the kids watching him as he told the story we’d told in the Underground during the war. The kids were spellbound; he was a real hit. On their way out after the show Morgana would be waiting, selling rubber lizards with glued-on crowns. France, Spain, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, West Germany, 1961 – 1964

  Dad took the circus further afield, travelling through Europe. As we travelled, we picked up people along the way. Over fifteen years since the war had ended and people were still trying to escape; memories, loss, poverty. They were the displaced, the dispossessed, those with no family, uprooted by the war and unable to settle back into their old lives. We’d picked up many people who’d been persecuted by the Nazis, but no one talked about it. The Eichmann trial was on everyone’s lips everywhere we went, but we hardly mentioned it. We were in Belgium the day he was hanged. A small group gathered together and sat in a circle, each with a glass of whisky. I watched them. No one spoke. They drank their whisky and the group dissolved.

  Our clown troupe had been myself, Marv, Ali and Paul for years, but Horatiu joined us in 1963. We picked him up in a small town in France on our way back home. He’d been working as a mime in theatre and in the streets. He was from Romania but had fled when the post-war Communist Party arrested and tried his father as a collaborator, threatened the rest of the family, and killed his friend. This was what mum had told me, but Horatiu wouldn’t talk about his time in Romania when Ali quizzed him, and I let him be; there was a quiet understanding between us both. The past should stay in the past. He freely spoke about his time in France; he was queer and didn’t hide it, regaling us with tales of his affairs. I thought the clown troupe, especially Marv, would bristle at his sexual exploits, but they enjoyed his stories.

  ‘Why so easy on Horatiu, Marv?’

  ‘What’s that, G?’

  ‘You had a problem with me and Angelina, but not Horatiu.’

  He continued applying his make-up then said, ‘That’s different.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Horatiu is honest.’

  I didn’t respond and stared at myself in the mirror, Goblin disappearing, becoming clown. I smeared on the lipstick, going over my fake smile again and again until it was a deep obscene red.

  ‘I told you – I don’t play for any side,’ I said, looking into my eyes.

  He grunted. I closed one eye and drew in a vertical line, a black scar.

  *

  I’d sometimes spend the night in Fish Boy’s caravan. When I returned, Groo would be waiting for me, complaining. The morning she wasn’t there, I called for her and heard her faint voice. I got down on my knees. She was lying under the bed, lifting her head to meow at me.

  ‘Hey, Groo. C’mon out, whatcha doin’ under there?’

  She half-stood, half-fell her way out from under, her back legs not working properly. She collapsed in front of me, on her side, breathing heavily.

  ‘What’s wrong, old thing? You’ve gone all lopsided like Monsta.’

  A tumour, Colin said. She won’t have long to live, Colin said. Best to let her go.

  ‘I can’t let her go, she can’t go. She’s all I have left.’

  ‘You have me,’ said Fish Boy, ‘you have us.’

  ‘I should have looked after her more. I should have stayed here every night with her. I neglected her and no
w she’s dying.’

  ‘G, there’s nothing you could have done. She’s old. She had a good life. You loved her.’

  ‘It wasn’t enough.’

  Fish Boy and I holed up in my caravan and lay on the bed with Groo. We stroked her and spoke to her and tried to get her to drink and eat, but she only lay there, her breathing more laboured. Fish Boy went for Colin and I put Groo on my lap, my arms around her as Colin inserted the needle. I kissed Groo’s head. I smelled behind her ear like I always did, but she didn’t smell of anything anymore. I watched her slip away. She peed on me, the warmth seeping through to my skin, and she was gone. I said I was sorry over and over, so so sorry. I kissed her head again and held her paw. My tears and snot darkened her fur.

  *

  Before we buried Groo, I let Rusty see her and smell her. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do but I thought maybe he would understand and I wouldn’t have to deal with him plaintively following me around, wondering where she’d gone.

  He sniffed her, licked her, growled, circled her and barked at me before running off. He turned up at my caravan a couple of times, sleeping at the bottom of the bed, then I didn’t see him again apart from the performances and I was glad.

  After Groo died I stayed in bed for a week. Mum and dad, Fish Boy and Angelina all came to see me, but I couldn’t get up. I had nightmares again, about Quatermass and Martians, about Devil and old-ma. I stayed in bed until one afternoon I woke up and felt like a weight had fallen from me as I slept. I had all the energy in the world and the first thing I did was print posters of David. I’d let it slide, so wrapped up in work and Angelina and Fish Boy that I’d only put up a few here and there. But now I had hundreds and I’d put them up in every town and city we stopped in.

  *

  We didn’t usually get much time to sight-see as we travelled, but when we were in Prague I walked down Charles Bridge and touched St. John of Nepomuk’s five stars, hoping the silent saint would grant my wish. When we were in Paris mum and dad gave us all a couple of days off and several of us went up the Eiffel Tower. Two of the acrobats were arrested for doing dangerous stunts on the top level and mum and dad had a hell of a time getting them out of jail, which gave us all a few extra days in Paris. I visited Père Lachaise Cemetery with Fish Boy, mainly to see Oscar Wilde’s grave, but I loved it there and we stayed until late afternoon. It reminded me of the days I’d spent in Kensal Green, but it was a soft, melancholy feeling, only a tinge of sadness as I remembered Devil leaping after bumble bees.