Ever Dundas: Goblin

‘Aiyaiyai!’ I answered, ‘Holy Holy Holy, the blood of Christ!’

We sprinted off to the worksite, picking Devil up on the way. I anointed him, spraying water across his body.

‘Amen!’ I said, and he chased after us.

I never spoke to Mackenzie about how I felt about this other world but I turned up at his door every Sunday and off I went with him and his family, disappearing into worship. I loved the stories, turning them over in my head, weaving my own. I floated on the smell of incense, felt safe in the soft light.

I drove my brother mad as I turned our bedroom into a shrine. David would come home to find me surrounded by saints and Jesus and Mary, incense choking up the room, bible in my hand.

‘David,’ I’d say, ‘David, you won’t believe this story—’

‘Jesus, Goblin, leave it.’

And he’d flop onto his bed, lean up on his elbow and put on a record. He’d listen to our grandad’s old records: Liszt, Schubert, Berlioz. Grandad had died in The Great War, but gran had sat with David, listening to the records, telling him stories about grandad. I barely remember her; she died when I was four. Ma hated grandad’s music so she let David keep the old gramophone in our room.

He’d lie on his bed, smoking his cigarette, pictures of Marlene Dietrich peeling off the wall behind him. He was the coolest thing there was. There was something about him. I knew one day he would conquer the world. Jack Alexander, Simon Mayhew and their gang didn’t think so, though. They were a couple of years older than David and lived two streets down. David used to play with them, years before, but not now.

‘Why’d they pick on you?’

David was lying back, staring at the ceiling, his left arm behind his head. He took a draw on his cigarette, exhaled, ‘It’s just the way they are.’

‘But why you? You’re the best.’

He laughed.

‘What? You are.’

‘They don’t seem to know that.’

‘They’re idiot bastards.’

David sat up, crossed his legs and leaned against the wall, Marlene partly obscured by his shoulder.

‘At least I have you on my side, G.’

‘Always.’

He traced his hand through the smoke, swaying to the music.

‘The other day, when we passed them, why’d they say you were “one of them”?’

‘What?’

‘One of them. Why’d they say that?’

‘Because they’re idiot bastards.’

‘What did they mean, though?’

He took another draw on his cigarette and looked at me, eyes narrowed.

‘I’m not one of them,’ he said. ‘They just call me that because I read.’

‘Because you’re smart?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Then they’re right. You are smart, you are one of them.’

‘That’s not what— Jesus, Goblin. Just leave it, okay? Go back to your bible.’

‘But you are smart. They’re just jealous.’

David smiled and stubbed out his cigarette. He picked up a book and said, ‘Just leave it, okay? I don’t want to talk about idiot bastards.’

‘What’re you reading?’

‘ Treasure Island .’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Treasure. On an island.’

‘Ha!’ I said, throwing my old bear at him. He ducked and it hit Marlene.

‘It’s about pirates,’ he said, throwing the bear back at me. I caught it and hooked my arm round its neck, holding it close.

‘When I save enough money,’ he said, ‘I’ll sail around the world. I’ll meet a girl and we’ll make our home by the sea – a place where the sea is everything, where it changes people.’

‘So you get fins and gills and become a sea monster.’

David laughed. ‘Not quite what I meant, G. But maybe… why not? A place where anything is possible.’

‘You should join the Navy.’

‘I can’t, G.’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t think I’d take orders well. And I don’t want to kill anyone.’

‘Be a pirate then.’

‘I think pirates kill people too.’

‘You don’t have to kill people – you could get someone to do it for you.’

‘That’s just the same.’

‘You’ll just have to go alone then.’

David shook his head.

‘No, G – it’d be me and you.’

I smiled.

‘I’d kill people for you, then.’

‘Would you now?’

‘If I had to.’

‘Best not, G.’

I flopped onto my stomach and opened the bible where I’d left off.

‘People get killed all the time in the bible, but sometimes they pray for help and God makes everything okay, but only sometimes.’

‘That right?’

‘You could pray for help, you know.’

‘With what? Going to the sea?’

‘Getting Mayhew and Alexander off your back.’

‘What good would praying do?’

‘Maybe God would smite them or something.’

‘Smite them how?’

‘Lightning or floods or locusts.’

‘You want storms and locusts in London?’

‘Not all of London, stupid – just on them. You need to be specific so God doesn’t mess up.’

David smiled, ‘That right?’

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘Goblin!’

It was da, shouting from the bottom of the stairs.

‘Coming!’ I shouted as I tossed my bible aside.

I ran down the stairs, almost banging right into da.

‘A wireless?’

He nodded and I followed him into the back garden. He was good at fixing things; a wireless, bikes, cars, pretty much anything, so the neighbours always went to him. They’d pay what they could, or give him some veg from their veg patch, or bake us a pie. Da had me helping out since as far back as I could remember. When I was really young he’d get me to hand him what he needed, teaching me the names of each tool, and I’d watch as he took things apart and put them together again. Soon I was helping out properly and he’d give me a few pennies, or extra pie at dinnertime. He didn’t speak much as we worked, but I’d rattle off stories and he didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes he’d grunt in response or say, ‘That so?’ There was only a couple of times when some old gramophone was giving him grief that he told me to be quiet so he could concentrate.

‘Whose is it?’ I asked as he opened up the wireless.

‘Mrs West’s.’

I sat cross-legged on the grass and lay out the tools. We’d sometimes work in people’s houses, but da couldn’t tolerate interference, so he started wheelbarrowing things over to ours. Ma went mad when we worked in the sitting room, so we worked in the garden, da saying one day me and him would build a workshed.

Da grunted.

‘What is it?’

‘Just a loose wire.’

‘That all?’

He nodded.

‘You sure, da?’

He gave me a foul look and I said, ‘I was just hoping—’

‘I know,’ he said.

I watched him as he secured the wire and I said, ‘You read the bible, da?’

He shook his head, so I rattled off some bible stories, speaking fast as I knew that wireless would be fixed in no time, but he was slow about it and when he finished he sat for a moment, his hand on the wireless, looking over at Devil who was chasing flies.

‘…and she turned round and turned to salt!’

‘That so?’ he said.

‘Mh-hmm. And he just left the salt-woman there. I would have scooped her up and kept her for soup.’

Dad laughed and I blushed.

‘What’s so funny?’

He shook his head and stood up.

‘C’mon,’ he said, ‘help me wheel this back.’

He lifted the wireless into the barrow and I pushed it up the garden path.

I went to church every week with Mac, but I sometimes went on my own too – even to confession, but not to confess, only to talk about the bible stories. I was so excited about it that the priest would get all swept up and forget about my sins. But then it was ruined.