Ever Dundas - Goblin

‘There’s a war on,’ I said to CP, ‘and the Frys are just doing their bit for the thing I am, a refugee, evacuee, a holy holy holy escapee.’

Travelling by foot was taking its toll, feet all blistered, weight falling off me and the Corporal before we could put it back on with the rations. We were weary, me and CP, the spirit of adventure sucked out of us by the reality of day upon day upon day of trudging. The more miserable I felt, the more I thought of Angel, the more I wished I’d brought her with me. But I was just feeling sorry for myself – I knew it was selfish, I knew I couldn’t take her away from a home where she was cared for and subject her to my ma.

I tried to keep spirits up by talking with CP, telling stories, singing songs. Less wary of humans now that I’d put a fair distance between us and the unholy bastards, I greeted fellow travellers on the road and trotted through villages head held high, CP kept close.

‘Which way to London, my fine man?’ and off we went, trudging, trudging.

Trucks went by in a succession of khaki and indistinguishable faces. I trotted after them.

‘Oi! You got room for a kid and a pig?’

The faces came to life, laughing and sneering. One of the soldiers flicked his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other and gave a squint smile.

‘Where you going, kid?’

‘London.’

‘Most kids go the other way.’

‘I’m going home.’

‘You running away?’

‘What’s it to you?’

He laughed. ‘You got balls, kid. Throw us the pig.’

I tried to lift Corporal Pig, floundering under his weight, even in his skin and bone state. He wriggled, all legs and flapping ears and snorting. I loped along, but couldn’t keep up. The soldiers gathered at the back of the truck to watch, cheering and whooping. A lit cigarette hit me in the face.

‘You sonsofbitches, you goddamn bastards I’ll bash you, I’ll bash the lot of you.’

They cheered and the squintsmiler jumped out, grabbed CP, threw him on board, took a hold of me and threw me straight after CP, before jumping up like it was easy as pissing in a pot.

There was chaos. CP was snorting and squealing, running round the truck in a panic beneath the soldiers’ feet. They kicked at him and he squealed some more and they laughed. I ran after CP but they grabbed at me, all hands. CP bit one of them and the soldier flicked out a knife and I went for him, bashing his face. He fell back and took the pummelling as his comrades dragged me off, yelling and foaming at the mouth.

‘Yerasorrybunchosonsobitches,’ I said. ‘Stay away from Corporal Pig, you shits.’

‘Corporal Pig! Corporal Pig!’ they chorused.

‘Leave the kid’s pig alone,’ said Squintsmiler, ‘It’s his only friend in the world. That right, boy?’

He winked at me and I scowled, getting a firm hold of CP, who was shaking and wide-eyed. I stroked him and whispered in his ear and I stroked his ear too and rubbed his snout and patted his back and he calmed down. I eyed the one who had flicked open the knife. He stared at us, using the knife to pick dirt from under his nails.

‘Sons of bitches,’ I said every few minutes, chewing on gum Squintsmiler had given me, but soon no one was really listening. They went back to their card games and nude magazines.

‘Don’t mind us, kid. We were just playing.’

‘Sons of bitches.’

‘You’ve got some mouth on you, kid.’

I chewed on my gum, stroking CP. I looked around, just daring any of them sonsofbitches to come near us.

‘You’re a wild one, boy. Whatcha running away from?’

‘Sons of bitches.’

‘You’re trouble. You’ll give the girls a hard time, won’t you? I can see it in those eyes. You like pussy, kid?’

He showed me one of the nudey pictures, and I said, ‘Sure. Sure, I like pussy.’

‘The kid likes pussy, boys!’

They cheered. I was patted on the back.

‘You can keep that kid. For the lonely nights.’

He winked at me and I stuffed the picture in my pocket.

‘How old are you, boy?’

‘Ten.’

‘That right? You not too young to be travelling on your own?’

‘I’m not on my own – I have Corporal Pig. He’s a trusty companion.’

‘You look after each other?’

‘That’s right.’

He smiled at me and nodded and I shifted as close to CP as possible, laying my head on his side. I fell asleep, curled up practically wound right round CP to protect him. I woke to Squintsmiler shaking me and I almost strangled CP in panic.

‘It’s alright, I don’t want to hurt your bleedin’ pig. It’s your stop, kid. You’re getting off here.’

He lifted me and Corporal Pig like we were nothing and set us down on the road.

‘Here, kid, take some of these.’

He threw me sweets and cigarettes.

‘You got any money, comrade-sir?’

‘Have I got any money?’

‘Yes, comrade-sir, we’re weary from walking. We need money for train fare.’

The truck was pulling away, too fast for us to keep up. Squintsmiler disappeared, moving back into the throng of soldiers.

I could hear them chanting. ‘Corporal Pig! Corporal Pig!’

‘You hear that, CP? The soldiers, they love you, CP. They really do.’

I saw something fall from the back of the truck as it rounded the corner and I waved, but they’d gone. I broke into a run, hoping it was more cigarettes or candy I could use to barter for a ticket or some food, but when I got to it I saw it was just a piece of the nudey magazine. I picked it up, unfolded it and found money nestling between the woman’s legs.

‘I sure like pussy, CP,’ I said, shoving the money in my pocket. ‘I sure do.’

No pigs. That’s what he said. Dirty animals. Show some respect to the Corporal, I said. I’m not having that animal shitting all over this train, he said. I protested, I cajoled. I pleaded with my fellow humans. London, I said. I miss my family, I said.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Leave the pig behind and we have no problem, but that animal isn’t staying on this train.’

‘I can pay extra,’ I said, holding the remaining money in my hands. ‘I’ll clean up any shit.’

‘There will be no shit to clean up. No pig, no shit, and no you. Now get lost.’

I thought for a moment then pulled out the packet of cigarettes. I smiled.

‘Huh? What do you say?’ I shook the packet, raising my eyebrow.

‘Get!’

CP trotted in front of me, half falling onto the platform. I started after him, cursing my way down the corridor when I felt the nudey picture in my pocket.

‘Wait!’ I said, turning back to the conductor. I unfolded the picture, holding it up.

‘You like pussy, eh?’

He barrelled after me, crushed the nudey picture in his hand and grabbed a hold of me by the back of my shirt, manhandling me right off that train. I lay on the platform, bruised, wielding my ticket and yelling ‘I paid good money for this, sir! Comrade-soldiers paid good money for this. I’ve got to get to London. We’re refugeesevacueesescapees.’

‘Then you’re going the wrong way!’ he yelled at me.

I rubbed my bruised knees as I watched the train pull out of the station.

‘You’re going the wrong way,’ the man said.

I told him my story of woe, adding here, taking away there. I didn’t get in trouble at all, not this time, but elicited pity from the stationmaster, or more like he just wanted me to leave him be, but he took my ticket and returned my money and I bought food for me and CP. We stayed there a day and a night and I stuffed CP full, as full as can be, then off we trudged, but this time CP had a spring in his step.