Ever Dundas - Goblin

‘Goblin,’ he said. ‘Come ’ere. I’ll tell you a story.’

He usually didn’t talk much, so I just looked at him, not moving an inch.

‘Come here,’ he said, patting his knee.

I walked over to him and just stood there. I could smell the sweat and dirt of a day’s work. He picked me up by the waist and put me on his knee. He didn’t usually touch me, so I just looked at him, confused. He held up his hand, spreading his fingers.

‘A man lost his finger at the factory today,’ he said.

I looked at him, wide-eyed.

‘How?’

‘He was stupid. He used one of the machines wrong.’

‘He used it wrong?’

He nodded.

‘And, chop! Off came his finger.’

He held one of his fingers down with his thumb, pretending it was missing. I sat up, stiff, staring at him. Ma came in, glanced at us, and went over to the mirror.

‘And that finger fell to the floor and it kept moving.’

‘What are you doing?’ said ma, checking her make-up.

‘Telling a story,’ he said, not taking his eyes off me. ‘It moved along the ground like this, like a caterpillar, and it kept on going, crawling right across the factory floor.’

‘No! No, it didn’t. Fingers can’t crawl on their own.’

‘Of course they can,’ he said, ‘and we could have fixed it back on, but it crawled too far and was eaten up, snap! by the big jaws of a rat. Just like this!’

His huge hand snapped shut on mine and I yelped and fell on the floor. I rolled and laughed, and said ‘No, no! You’re telling tales.’

Ma put on another layer of lipstick and smiled into the mirror.

‘Don’t fill her head with more nonsense,’ she said.

‘It’s just a story,’ said da.

‘She’s too stupid to realise. She probably thinks it’s the truth.’

‘I know it’s just a story,’ I said.

‘Get out from under our feet, runt. And go wash yourself, you stink like a sewer.’

‘Go on,’ da said, ‘do what your ma says.’

I stood up and said, ‘Thanks for the story.’

He nodded. Ma sat on da’s lap and they kissed. She ran her hand through his hair. They laughed and I left, closing the door on them.

Edinburgh, 12 July 2011

I’m at my desk in the sitting room while Ben sits on the couch, Mahler’s head on his lap, Sam squeezed in next to Mahler.

‘That Detective called again last night.’

‘I don’t want to talk to him.’

‘Yel need to eventually, eh?’

‘I’m not ready.’

‘For what?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘What’re ye writing?’

‘About when I was a kid in London.’

‘I thought ye didnae want to think about all that.’

‘It’s too late now, isn’t it?’

‘But ye just said—’

‘It wasn’t all bad. I had a family of animals. And I got a new mum and dad.’

‘What happened to yer old mum and dad?’

‘Da went to fight the Nazis and never came back. Ma left too, eventually. But when the war started she had to go work in a factory and she’d come home, her hands blackened, stinking of sweat. When she paid any attention to me I was “dirty rotten Goblin-runt”. She called me Goblin-runt from the day I was born and it stuck.’

‘Join the club,’ said Ben. ‘My parents were right cunts too.’

‘I had a good brother, though. I loved David and he loved me. He called me Goblin, not “runt” like ma called me, apart from once when he was in a mood, but I knew he felt bad about it. We shared a room since as far back as I remember, and he was good to me. Ma loved David. He mustn’t have been born blue.’

London, 16 March 1939

I was nine years old on 16 thMarch 1939 and David gave me a present. He’d fixed up some old bashed camera for me.

‘There you go, Goblin,’ he said. ‘You capture your world with that.’

I was speechless as he slung it over my neck. Ma and da usually forgot my birthday. If ma did remember she’d just go on about how I never should have been born, so I avoided being at home on my birthday and spent it with Mac and Stevie and I’d sleep in our den.

‘Come meet me at my work at five,’ said David, ‘I have a special treat for you.’

I was so excited I got there early and just sat in the street with Devil for half an hour until David came out.

‘What’s the treat?’ I said.

‘You’ll see. C’mon.’

I followed him, all antsy and asking him where we were going every few minutes. He thought it was funny at first but eventually told me to shut up or we’d be going home so I shut up and kicked a stone along the pavement until we arrived at the cinema.

‘This is it,’ he said. ‘ Bride of Frankenstein. ’

‘I don’t wanna see some film about a boring old bride.’

‘Look at the poster, you idiot.’

I looked – The Bride of Frankenstein in electrified letters; a woman with strange big hair, white zigzags at either side; lightning striking at a huge frightening face - all heavy brow, hooded eyes and dark shadows.

‘It looks amazing.’

‘I saw it when it came out, when you were too young to come with me. You’re gonna love this, Goblin. I know it.’

I nodded, gawping at the poster.

‘We’ll have to leave him out here, though.’

‘What?’ I said, pulling myself away from the poster.

‘We’ll have to tie him out here. We can’t take him in.’

‘We can’t leave Devil.’

‘C’mon, Goblin, don’t make a fuss. Dogs aren’t allowed.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’ll bark and shit and piss everywhere.’

‘You know Devil won’t do that. You know he won’t.’

‘They won’t let us in with him. I can’t do anything about it.’

He looked down at Devil and I could tell he was feeling bad.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘There’s maybe a way. Just let me get the tickets.’

We sneaked Devil in through the toilet window. I gave him a bunk up and David leaned out, got him under the shoulders and pulled him in. He hid him under his jacket and waited for me inside. Devil was no bother. He made some huffy snuffling noises as he explored some of the seats and smelled all the new smells and I glanced nervously at the usher, but he was up at the back talking with a girl. More people arrived and I worried they’d make a fuss, so I quietly called Devil but he ignored me.

‘C’mon,’ said David. ‘Get him over. I don’t want to be thrown out.’

‘He’s on important sniffing business – he’s got to feel comfortable,’ I said, but eyed the new arrivals all the same.

‘David?’ I said.

‘Mh-hmm?’

‘I heard da say we should go to war. He said Chamberlain is a pansy for letting Hitler take Checksvakia.’

David didn’t say anything, his eyes fixed on Devil who was sniffing his way along our row.

‘Do you think we will go to war?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Complicated how?’

‘It just is.’

‘Would you and da have to fight?’

‘No. I don’t know. Just drop it, okay?’

‘Can you show me where Checksvakia is on one of your maps?’

‘Sure,’ he said.

‘Hey, boy,’ I said to Devil, who had finished his sniffing undetected. I ruffled his head and told him to stay put and he lay down under my chair. During the film he fell asleep and at some of the quiet bits I could hear him snore.

I loved being in the cinema. I loved the darkness and the smell of stale sweat and old furniture. David had bought me sweets and I sat slouched in my seat, stuffing them in my mouth, staring up at him. He looked beautiful and pale, the light from the screen casting shadows across his face.