Ever Dundas - Goblin

‘So you smeared it on your face?’ said Mad.

I shrugged, looking from her to old Louise.

‘It seemed the thing to do,’ I said and stuffed the toast into my mouth.

‘How old are you now, G?’

There was a pause as I chewed and old Louise said, ‘She’s a woman now.’

I shook my head and said ‘Still a goblin. Always a goblin.’

‘A fourteen-year-old goblin?’ said Mad.

I nodded.

‘You’re growing up so fast.’

‘Well,’ said Louise, ‘She might be growing up fast, but she’s got a thing or two to learn.’

‘Why’d you call it a curse?’ asked Mad.

‘That’s what ma said it was.’

‘It’s not, G. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ She looked at me a moment, then laughed. ‘Though, I don’t think you have a problem with that,’ she said, gesturing to the stripes of blood across my cheeks. She offered me more toast and said, ‘What do you know about it?’

‘Not much. Ma said the blood makes babies.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Mostly,’ I said.

‘Do you know anything about sex?’

‘A bit. I’ve done some things with Adam.’

‘With Adam?’ Mad’s eyes widened. ‘What things?’

‘Just… You know, kissing.’

‘Is that all?’

I nodded.

‘But how do you think the blood makes babies? How do you think that all works?’

‘Oh, please,’ said Louise, ‘are we getting all birds and the bees? It’s too early for this.’

She stood up, shuffled over to the cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whisky and shuffled back to the table, grabbing two glasses on the way.

‘Is it not too early for that , Louise?’

Old Louise ignored her and poured herself a glass. Mad placed her hand over the other glass and Louise snapped, ‘It’s not for you.’

‘Louise!’

‘It’s to take the edge off for the poor girl.’

Louise poured the whisky and slammed the glass in front of me. Mad pursed her lips and shook her head at me.

‘I can see you, you know.’

‘She’s my daughter, Louise.’

I was pleased that Mad called me her daughter.

‘You don’t have to drink that, G,’ said Mad, pouring me more tea.

I sniffed the whisky, took a sip and screwed up my face.

‘So what do you know? What did your ma tell you?’

‘She just said babies came from the blood, so I thought that if you kept the blood in a jar and if you looked after it, kept it warm, a baby would grow, like a plant.’

Louise slammed her hand on the table, making me jump, and cackled.

‘It’s silly,’ I said, blushing, looking from Mad to Louise and back. ‘I was just a kid.’

Old Louise, slowing down to a chuckle, nodded at my whisky and said, ‘Knock that back, child. You’re going to need it.’

I did as Louise said, feeling it burn my tongue and throat and warm my belly. Mad whisked away my glass as old Louise tried to pour more. She lit a cigarette and said, ‘I think that’s kind of beautiful. Growing a baby in a jar of blood.’

‘It’s morbid is what it is,’ said old Louise.

‘I like it,’ said Mad. ‘It would make a good story.’

She got up and went to the stove to make more tea. When she sat down she explained it all to me. I’d pieced some of it together already but now it all made sense, no gaps for my imagination to fill. Mad even showed me how to use a condom and I was relieved I didn’t have to have children. I didn’t want them, ever.

‘You might change your mind,’ Mad said.

‘I won’t,’ I said.

‘Children are only trouble,’ said old Louise.

Mad rolled her eyes at her.

‘If there’s anything you need, G,’ said Mad, ‘if you need to talk about anything, you come to me, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I said.

She stubbed out a cigarette and said, ‘So you gonna wear your blood every month?’

I smiled and said, ‘It’ll be the new fashion.’ I struck a pose, head tilted, hand under my chin. ‘I’ll be on the cover of Vogue. Lee Miller will take my picture.’

Mad laughed and old Louise grunted, frowning at me.

‘You’ve got a lot to learn, child,’ said old Louise.

‘You said I was a woman.’

She shook her head dismissively.

‘Better get on,’ said Mad, standing up, ‘my shift starts soon.’

She squeezed my shoulder as she walked past and suddenly it was just me and old Louise.

‘You gonna wash that muck of your face?’

‘It’s not muck.’

‘If you want to be a woman you need to act more ladylike.’

‘I don’t want to be a woman. I’m Goblin.’

‘That so?’

‘Through and through.’

‘Mad and James have their work cut out with you, that’s for certain.’

‘Old Louise?’

‘Enough with the “old”.’

‘Miss Louise, what happens if I like girls as well?’

‘As well?’

‘As well as boys.’

‘You can’t like both.’

‘But I do like both,’ I said.

‘You can’t. You’ll find that out soon enough.’

She pushed her chair back and stood up, taking the bottle of whisky with her. As she went to the door she turned back to me.

‘You be careful,’ she said, wagging her finger at me. ‘You be careful who you talk to about things like that.’

When James and any of the other men came back from leave there’d be a party. It would start off small but soon everyone would gather and the party could last for days. James let me drink beer. I remember the adverts in the papers: ‘Guinness Is Good for You’ with a smiley face on the beer foam. I liked the foam moustache it gave me. I liked the dreamy feeling and it wasn’t as harsh as whisky. James wasn’t so impressed when I had my first cigarette, though. I hung around with the clowns a lot, bugging them for stories, asking them to show me some of their routines, but when Marv gave me a cigarette James banned me from going near them anymore.

It wasn’t just the circus crowd who came to the parties; there were writers, actors, singers and hangers-on. One of the hangers-on was some lord or other who was a patron of the circus. He’d come to the parties with his wife and he’d usually get thrown out for something. His wife would get drunk and follow me around, trying to fix me, telling me I was beautiful but, ‘You should use make-up, brush your hair and wear a dress that fits for godsake.’ I didn’t know if I was beautiful or not and I didn’t care either way and I told her that.

‘You should, little Goblin. People love you if you’re beautiful and you need to save all that love for when the beauty is gone.’

When I managed to shake her I came across Lord whatshisname kissing Betsy on the kitchen counter, his penis dangling out of his pants as he slobbered over her and told her how much he loved dwarves. Betsy just cackled and poured beer over his head. I felt bad for his wife after that but I didn’t want to be her personal little Goblin to do up all pretty like a doll, so I avoided her if I could, even if I felt a bit bad about it.

Captain Flint loved the parties – he would perch on a lamp, observing, joining in any singing with some squawking while Groo slinked around looking for someone to sit on. Most of the animals wouldn’t fit into the small flat and there was no garden so I spoke to Mad and James about rehoming the animals that weren’t part of my immediate family. I’d cut down on my rescuing because I couldn’t take any more creatures, but I still had three dogs, five cats and a rabbit, as well as Billy Bones, Dr Kemp, Groo and Captain Flint. I’d said the chickens had to stay but I knew I was being selfish what with there being no garden for them to rummage in and have dust baths. Mad and James said I should at least go and inspect Colin’s place to see if they’d be happy there. Colin had looked after a lot of the animals in the circus, so he was sure to take care of them, but I was still all reluctant. I went round with my nose stuck up in the air as if his place wasn’t any good at all, but the house and garden were big and I could see how happy the chickens would be. I questioned Colin like I’d questioned all of my neighbours but it was no good, he was perfect. I could tell he’d care for those chickens but I just said all haughty, ‘We’ll think about it.’