I go to the kitchen and get some wine. I shout down the hall, asking Ben if he wants a glass.
‘It’s too early for that, old lady. I’ll have a cuppa, though.’
I come back through with the wine and tea to find Ben reading one of my pages.
‘What’s this about Martians and Nazis?’
‘Don’t read that,’ I say, hurriedly putting down the wine and tea, snatching the page away from Ben. ‘That’s private.’
‘Then dinnae leave it lying around.’
‘This is my flat,’ I say.
Ben looks as if I’ve just slapped him.
‘Aye, well if ye dinnae want me here just say so – yer the one who wanted me to stay.’
I hold the page tight in my hand, crushing it, not caring that Ben feels hurt. I put the sheet of paper with the rest on my desk. They’re all crumpled, strewn everywhere. I bunch them all together and sit on the floor, drinking my wine.
‘I must bring order,’ I say, sorting through the papers. ‘I must bring some order.’
‘While ye bring order by drinking yersel intae oblivion me n Sam’ll be on our way then.’
I look up at him, confused for a moment, watching him pack his few belongings into his rucksack.
‘On your way where?’ I say.
He ignores me and I feel panicked.
‘On your way where? Are you leaving? I said you could stay.’
I stand up and clutch at him, and he makes to brush me off but he looks at me and stops.
‘Alright, old lady, alright.’
He puts his hand on mine.
‘You’re not leaving?’
‘No,’ he says, ‘we’ll stay right here.’
We stand there for a moment; Ben looking at me, his hand still on mine. I shake my head, feeling sick.
‘Hey,’ he says, leading me to the couch, ‘It’s alright, sit down. I didnae mean to upset ye.’
We sit on the couch, Ben’s arm around me. Mahler jumps up and lies down, his head on my lap. Sam sits at the door, expectant. Ben calls him over and gives him one of his toys to chew on.
‘I’m sorry, Ben.’
‘Dinnae worry, old lady.’
Monsta walks along the floor, kerlumpscratch, kerlumpscratch. A flutter of the pigeon wings and Monsta is up on my writing desk, worm-arms prodding at the typewriter keys. I laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Monsta – The Life Story.’
‘What’s that?’
‘My life story. That’s what I’m writing. And it’s private, that’s all, it’s private. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘I know. It’s okay. I shouldnae have read it without yer permission.’
‘Ben, I want you to stay. I don’t want that to ever be a question.’
He puts his arm round me, pulling me close. We sit there quietly for a while then Ben says, ‘How about a film, old lady? Before ye get back to yer writing. I’ll make some breakfast and we can watch some old film, eh?’
‘Sounds good.’
Ben goes through to the kitchen, Sam and Mahler following. I hear him giving them some food as I go over to see what Monsta has written: ‘I learned to swim in the sea.’
‘That’s too far on,’ I say. ‘I’m not there yet, Monsta.’
Monsta sways. The smell of toast reaches me and I say, ‘Later, Monsta. Writing can wait.’
I join Ben in the kitchen, listening to Monsta’s stilted typing.
Cornwall, September 1939 – September 1940
Piss and shit, I reeked of it. We’d been travelling for hours, crammed in, no stops, no toilets, no food. It smelled like a pit in hell.
I’d made it to the station without the Nazis seeing me, so I’d taken off my disguise. I shimmied my shorts on under the dress and pulled it off over my head, replacing it with a crumpled shirt. The station was a mess of children, all bustling and chattering and crying. I pushed my way into the crowd and eyed some kid’s label, remembering the school in case anyone asked, but no one did. I headed over to the train before I realised Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler weren’t following. I stopped and a kid bashed right into me.
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘You’re in the way,’ said the kid.
‘I’m not talking to you,’ I said, and he shoved me, walking round.
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘We can’t leave London.’
‘Why not? I thought ghosts could do anything.’
Other kids gave me confused looks and squeezed past me.
‘We belong to London.’
Kids kept pushing at me and I staggered backwards towards the train, my eyes on the ghosts. I was caught up in the flow as the kids surged onto the train, so I turned away and climbed up the steps. I tried to catch a glimpse of the ghosts before disappearing into the train but I couldn’t see over the heads of the other kids. I moved down the corridor looking for a seat by the window. Finding one, I knelt on it and pressed up against the window watching the ghosts standing serene in the crowd. Three boys sat next to me and I glanced at them before turning back. I waved goodbye as the train started to roll its way to the sea.
‘Who’re you waving at?’ said one of the boys, looking out the window.
‘Ghosts,’ I said.
‘Ghosts aren’t real,’ he said.
‘They are. So are lizard people,’ I said.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said.
When I couldn’t see the ghosts any longer I sat down properly and faced the boy.
‘Underground is where the lizard people live,’ I said, and I told them stories as London disappeared.
By the time we arrived I was all out of tales, all of us thirsty and hungry and stinking. The doors opened and out we tumbled, spreading across the platform like a plague. The waiting adults were expecting little angels with bouncing hair and rosy cheeks and there we were, flat out on the platform, a stinking mass. Realising these monsters were the children they’d come to greet, one of the women snapped her fingers: ‘Water, food. Now.’
Without hesitation, the others scurried, following the Snap-dragon’s orders. They went to a local shop a few minutes from the station and trudged back, laden with supplies. By the time they returned the Snap-dragon had already sorted us into an order of priority. Most of the tiny kids were dealt with first but there wasn’t much of a wait as the Snap-dragon had everything in such perfect control that everything was done efficiently.
‘Well, isn’t she a Queen Bee?’
That’s what Isabella would have said if she’d been there. She would have been impressed but jealous and uppity too, I was sure of it. I would have told her, ‘She’s not a Queen Bee. She’s a Snap-dragon.’ And to placate her I would have said, ‘You’re the only queen here,’ because I wouldn’t have wanted any trouble. Then I would have kept quiet, not wanting to stand out as the kid who talked to ghosts right on the first day of arriving. But I didn’t have to worry about that because they were in London where they belonged and here I was making a plan already in my head to be as normal as I could so I’d get good pretend parents who would look after me.
The only thing I had that I shouldn’t really have was Monsta but I wasn’t about to give up my best friend, not now Devil was gone. I just had to hide Monsta the best I could and hope the pretend parents weren’t the kind that were nosy parkers who liked to rake through all your things like Stevie’s parents used to do, because then I’d definitely be in trouble and if I wasn’t in trouble exactly, they were still sure to throw Monsta in the rubbish or make use of all Monsta’s body parts for something else because we don’t waste anything in wartime. But I already thought Monsta wasn’t wasting things, Monsta was Monsta and was making good use of all the parts. I pushed Monsta further down in my bag and drank the water I’d been given.
The child picking had started and the Snap-dragon wasn’t in control anymore. The adults already had in mind to go for boys, especially the strong boys, though none of us looked strong at all, just a dirty mess collapsed on the platform, shovelling food in our mouths. Some of the adults were walking off with boys and the Snap-dragon just about threw a fit when she saw that. Some had already managed to sneak away with their choice boy, but others hadn’t quite and she gave them a bollocking. She already had a list of who needed boys, all those that needed hard work done.