Ever Dundas - Goblin

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.’