Goblin

by Ever Dundas

I’m responsible. I was born blue. I could have died. Could’ve, should’ve.

  Just give me their names.

  There can never be justice. She was tied up and dragged down until she drowned. There’s red in the river and it’s too late.

  Poland, 1967

  We should’ve moved on. When we rolled into the town it was clear we weren’t welcome, but we performed to a half-empty circus tent. Dad cancelled the evening performance and we stayed on to do repairs and get some tools and food. I went into town with Blake and Laura to help get the supplies.

  We were loading everything into the back of the truck when I heard yelling and laughing. I looked over at a small crowd in the square.

  ‘What’s the entertainment?’ I said.

  ‘Who knows,’ said Blake, not bothering to look.

  We finished loading the supplies and Blake went back into the store for something we’d forgotten. Laura sat in the truck and I went over to the crowd, edging my way through. There was an old man on the ground, crying. He was speaking, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying or what language it was. A dachshund was running from one side of the crowd to the other, looking for a way out but only finding the force of a boot. The dog whined when they kicked him but continued running, this way and that until I kneeled down and grabbed a hold of him. I held him to my chest and walked through the crowd, who parted in surprise.

  I made my way back to the truck, the dog uncertain of me, wearily trying to bite. I heard yelling and shouting. A couple of people caught up with me and tugged at my arms. I placed the dog on the seat of the truck, handing Laura my coat.

  ‘Wrap him in this.’

  ‘Goblin, what—’

  I closed the door and turned to find the crowd were coming towards the truck. A man dragged the sobbing old man by the collar of his coat.

  ‘Why were you kicking the dog?’ I said, looking round the crowd.

  ‘It’s German. We don’t like Germans.’

  ‘And we don’t like gypsies.’

  ‘Give the old man his dog back.’

  The man who had been dragging the old man dropped him in front of me. The old man babbled at me in what sounded like German.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, repulsed by him snotting and shaking at my feet. ‘I don’t speak Nazi.’

  ‘Please, help me,’ he said in English. ‘They beat me, spit on me. They think I’m German but I’m from Austria, I’m an Austrian Jew. Let them have the dog,’ he said. ‘Let them have him then they will leave me be.’

  Laura got out of the truck and joined me.

  ‘What’s going on, G?’

  ‘These scum were kicking the dog.’

  ‘Give the old man his dog back, gypsy,’ said the man who had held him.

  ‘I’m not a gypsy,’ I said.

  ‘Give the German bastard his dog.’

  ‘For what?’ I said. ‘For you to kick to death?’

  ‘Please. Give him to them,’ said the old man, pawing at my legs.

  ‘Goblin, you can’t just steal someone’s dog,’ said Laura.

  ‘They’re going to kill him,’ I said. ‘The old man can come with us too. You can come with us.’

  ‘Look,’ Laura said to the crowd, hands out as if in surrender, ‘we’ll give the old man his dog back, just calm down, just everyone calm down.’

  A man pushed her and she fell against the truck. I punched him, sending him into the crowd. I was grabbed at either side and held as the man who had dragged the old Austrian punched me in the stomach. As I doubled over I heard Blake shouting and I was dropped. Blake was over six feet and made of muscle; the crowd backed off.

  ‘What’s going on, G? What the hell’s going on?’

  Blake pulled me up and helped me into the truck. I sat next to the dog who was hidden under my coat, not making a sound. The crowd started to gather round again.

  ‘Let’s just go, Blake,’ said Laura. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  I put the dog on my lap as we drove away. He made a small huffing noise and settled.

  When we got back, Colin took a look at him. He was malnourished and badly bruised. We fed him and he slept. I took him out briefly late in the evening, a short walk around the caravans. He peed and fell asleep where he was standing. I carried him back to my caravan and placed him in a box with a blanket at the end of my bed. The next morning he was hanging from a tent pole and I was being arrested for stealing and damaging property.

  ‘He’s not property,’ I said. ‘This is murder. Tell them, mum. Tell them it’s murder.’

  But she didn’t translate.

  ‘Don’t make it worse than it is,’ she said.

  ‘Those murderous sonsofbitches,’ I said, when I saw the jeering men. They’d all come to watch, to point me out.

  ‘To ona,’ they said. ‘Ukradła psa starego mężczyzny i zabiła go dla zabawy.’

  ‘What are they saying?’ I asked mum.

  ‘They said you took the old man’s dog and killed it for fun.’

  ‘Those sonsofbitches.’

  They spat on me as the police led me away.

  ‘Sześć miesięcy i grzywna,’ the police said. ‘Six months and a fine.’

  ‘When I get out,’ I said, ‘I’m gonna kill ’em. Every one of them. Tell them that.’

  Mum didn’t translate.

  *

  The circus left to finish the tour and mum stayed. I told her I’d be fine, that six months wasn’t that long, but she insisted. Dad didn’t want to leave me either, but mum spoke some Polish so it made sense that she was the one to stay. Dad held me in his arms until the policemen pried us apart, barking at us, with mum translating that no touching was allowed. We ignored the policeman, as if coming out of the embrace was our choice, as if we couldn’t hear him.

  ‘I’ll miss you, G. I love you. I’ll write to you.’

  Then he was gone.

  It was a small town and the prison only had two cells, each with two beds. Both were empty when I arrived and mostly stayed that way apart from the regulars. Two men dressed in layers of ragged clothes were dragged in most nights, drunk, stinking and singing. I was sure they got themselves arrested just for a roof over their head. The only time we had any new prisoners was a couple of months into my stay and it seemed like they’d arrested all the men in the town. I could hear them before I saw them; it felt like the prison was under siege. They filed past me, all of them beaten up and bloody. Eight of them were squeezed into the cell next to mine and that still left half a dozen more. I searched their faces, looking for the men who killed the dog, but I didn’t recognise any of them. The police officer eyed me for a moment then opened the cell door, snatched up my blanket and pillow, shoved them into my arms and pushed me out. I spent that night on the main office floor, my wrist handcuffed to a desk despite my protest, not able to sleep for all the noise the new prisoners made.

  Other than that night, prison wasn’t so bad and I settled into an imposed routine based around meal times and visiting hours. Mum took a room in the only hotel and came to see me every day. We’d sit across the table from each other, sometimes taking furtive moments to clasp hands. Until prison, I hadn’t realised how much I’d become used to touch. It was so easy, hugging mum and dad and my friends. I’d taken for granted the presence of Fish Boy or Angelina when we were going together. In prison, I’d think back on when I was with them and fantasise about the smallest things; running my fingers through Fish Boy’s hair, the way Angelina used to stroke my eyebrow and trace her finger down my cheek. I’d lie on my bed, arms by my side, eyes closed, and I’d think of Angel. I’d think of us holding hands, floating in the rock pool, watching the clouds coagulate and break apart. I’d float on those memories until I was back in London and dad had pressed those coins into my hand. I’d think of dad’s embrace and remember how lucky I was, looking forward to being back with my family.

  When mum came to visit she’d read to me; letters from dad, Angelina, Horatiu and other circus folk,
and books by Kafka, Dostoyevsky, De Beauvoir, my favourite Saki stories over and over. As she settled into her life in the town, she’d tell me about some of the people she met. One of the local shopkeepers had warmed to mum and always asked after her ‘córka kryminalistka’.

  ‘I told Aleksy your name many times, but he still insists on calling you my “criminal daughter”. You’d like him – mischievous, with a gift of the gab, just like you. He told me yesterday that the hotel owner is overcharging me just because he knows I have nowhere else to go. He said I should come stay with his family, said he wouldn’t charge me a penny. I told him I didn’t want to impose, but he was adamant, said I’d be doing him a favour because he has a long-running feud with the hotel owner and would get a lot of satisfaction to be taking away his custom. How can I resist an invitation like that?’

  She was laughing, but I just stared at my hands.

  ‘G? You okay?’

  ‘Mum, I’m glad you have friends,’ I said, looking up at her, trying not to cry like some baby. ‘You’ve put your life on hold because of me.’

  She didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at me, her lips pursed.

  ‘Goblin, my life isn’t on hold. You’re part of my life. And I choose to be here.’

  ‘I know, I just… I dunno. I just want you to know I’m sorry.’

  ‘G, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You did the right thing.’

  She held my hand.

  ‘I’m still sorry—’

  ‘Nie!’ the policeman yelled and I jumped at the sudden intrusion, yanking my hand away like I’d been shocked. ‘Nie dotykać.’

  Mum had a short talk with him before turning back to me and rolling her eyes.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said we have to obey the rules or visitor privileges will be taken away.’

  ‘Why can’t we touch?’

  ‘He said we could be exchanging contraband.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘It’s just power, that’s all. That’s all it’s ever about, isn’t it? Power and money.’

  I fiddled with the edges of a book and said, ‘Mum?’

  ‘Mm-hm?’

  ‘I never thanked you and dad for taking me in.’

  She huffed and said, ‘G, c’mon, you’re our family. Simple as that.’

  She reached for my hand again, but stopped herself and glanced over at the policeman who was glowering at us. She smiled, shook her head and raised her hands in mock surrender. The policeman grunted.

  She looked at me for a moment then said, ‘Goblin, what happened to your old family?’

  It tripped off my tongue before I could even think how to reply, ‘Pa was killed by Nazis, ma became a mermaid, and David went to the sea to be a pirate.’

  I stared back at her and blushed, realising how childish it sounded.

  ‘What really happened?’

  ‘Pa died in the war. I don’t know how. Ma drowned herself in the Thames. David disappeared. I think he went to the sea – that was his plan.’

  Mum nodded.

  ‘What were they like?’

  I shrugged and said, ‘Pa hardly spoke to me, but we fixed things together – neighbours always came to us with their wireless. I liked working with him.’ I picked at the cover of the book, peeling it away at the edge. ‘Ma hated me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said I should never have been born.’

  Mum put her hand over her mouth.

  ‘Why would she say that?’

  ‘She said I was born blue and I was so ugly I killed the midwife. She called me Goblin-runt. David looked out for me, though. I had him, my dog Devil and my friends Mac and Stevie.’

  Her hand still across her mouth, she said, ‘I’m glad you had some people who cared about you.’

  ‘And Devil.’

  ‘And Devil. What happened to him?’

  I was silent for a moment and said, ‘Mum? Can we talk about something else? Or you can read me a letter if there’s any? Or more Saki?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sorry,’ she said and picked up her bag. ‘I have a letter from your dad.’

  As she rummaged in her bag I said, ‘Maybe I can talk about all that some other time.’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ she said.

  Shortly after that visit, mum moved in with Aleksy and his family. She’d update me on the feud with the hotel owner and tell me about Aleksy’s kids. She helped look after them and taught them acrobatics. She stayed fit, with a daily regime of exercise and practice. She told me she’d rigged up a swing between two trees by a river just outside of town and the children took picnics and they’d watch her fly. Mum seemed happy, so I no longer felt guilty about her staying. I no longer thought of the dog or the old man. I simply enjoyed my time with mum – with no circus distractions I had her all to myself. She was soon bringing bread and biscuits every day, a gift for her ‘córka kryminalistka’, freshly baked by Anastazja, Aleksy’s wife. The policemen made a fuss at first, but when she gave some to them, they let it pass. It wasn’t long before the bureaucrat was turning the other way when we held hands or even hugged.

  We settled into the routine, waiting for the day I’d be free and we could go back to the circus. Instead, the day came when mum didn’t return.

  I asked about her, but the policemen pretended they didn’t know what I meant. They spoke English when it suited them and when it didn’t they’d say they didn’t understand me, they’d pretend they couldn’t find the words.

  I knew some basics – I’d asked to learn ‘bastard’, ‘son of a bitch’ and ‘fuck you’ but mum had just laughed and taught me niceties like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

  ‘Where’s the lady?’ I said. ‘My mother?’

  They frowned at me.

  ‘Pani?’ I tried. ‘Szalona – moja matka. Gdzie?’

  They shrugged and shook their heads saying something in Polish I didn’t understand. I needed her to translate, but she was gone. Two days passed and Aleksy and Anastazja came by, but I couldn’t understand them and they couldn’t understand me and the policemen were amused by our failed communication. They gave up trying to speak to me and had a long discussion with two of the policeman, who glanced at me now and again. The conversation became heated and Aleksy shouted at them before leaving, dragging Anastazja with him.

  Aleksy and Anastazja stopped by to see me every day. We didn’t speak, but they’d sit with me and Anastazja would sing. They continued to bring me food but I barely ate.

  Almost three weeks had passed with no news of mum. I was with Aleksy, sitting side by side in silence when dad walked into the police station and I felt the bars fall away. I thought of when dad first found me and the Lizard King, of the time he held my bloody arm, of our last hug when he left. I waited as the bureaucrat let him into my cell, Aleksy giving him a nod as he left. I waited for my dad to hold me in his arms.

  He removed his hat, sweeping his hair from his face. He was pale, his eyes pink and bloodshot.

  ‘She’s dead,’ he said.

  My legs buckled, but before I fell he pushed me and I stumbled back, knocking my pile of books, hitting the wall, crumpling, falling to the floor. As I made to get up, his hand was around my throat, his knee pressing on my chest. Everything was muted; just a buzzing in my ears. I felt the weight of him crushing me, and looked into his eyes. He was crying, his tears falling onto my face. I saw Aleksy and the bureaucrat grabbing at him. Their mouths were moving but I couldn’t hear them. The bureaucrat had his arm around dad’s neck, pulling him off me. I heaved in air and blacked out.

  *

  When I woke I didn’t remember what had happened, not at first. And when I did, nothing was worth anything anymore. I spent my days sleeping in my cell. Aleksy and Anastazja came by. They brought me bread, but didn’t stay. I didn’t eat so the policemen took it.

  Tim visited, with Ania in tow to translate. He told me mum had been found in the river, tied up in her makeshift swing.
r />   ‘They’re insisting it’s an accident. James is enlisting legal help from the UK.’

  Tim held me and fed me. We talked. Or he talked and I listened. I liked the sound of his voice. He said that dad had taken the body back to London, the funeral had been attended by hundreds.

  Then he said, ‘I know he attacked you, Goblin. He told me.’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I said.

  ‘You do. I know you do.’

  I nodded.

  ‘He blames me,’ I said. ‘And he’s right.’

  ‘That’s not right at all, G. He’s your dad—’

  ‘It’s my fault.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. It’s the bastard that killed Mad. Ania helped me speak to Aleksy and Anastazja. Aleksy said your dad attacked him and the policeman, they had to restrain him. He was lashing out, G. He didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘G, you can’t think like that. What use is it? Your dad will come round – I know he’s ashamed of what he did. Now listen – you get released tomorrow. You’ll be free.’

  I looked at him.

  ‘I’ll take you back. The circus is going to Venice. We’re doing a show in Piazza San Marco.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ I said. ‘I can’t face him.’

  ‘He won’t be there. James is in England for now.’

  Tim laid his hand on my shoulder. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. He whispered in my ear.

  ‘We love you, Goblin.’

  *

  We sat in the train carriage watching the landscape slide by, disappearing into the past.

  ‘Those years with her – I want them back. I’m not ready for her absence.’

  ‘I know, G,’ Tim said, putting his arm around me.

  ‘I thought she was indestructible, but I killed her.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  I breathed on the window, blurring the world outside.

  ‘You know it wasn’t your fault.’

  I nodded to let him know I believed him.

  ‘You can’t carry that with you, Goblin. It’s a poison.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel real. That she’s gone. What did she look like?’

  ‘She was cold and her lips were dry. I put lipstick on her lips and a flower in her hair. I gave her one of the stories you wrote, her favourite about the lizard people. I put it in her hands.’