‘You’re not a bleedin’ dog,’ I’d say, as one of the pigs followed me round like I was the kingqueen goblin of pigland. ‘You’ll be on our plates soon enough,’ I’d say, but along he’d come, snuffling at my legs. I’d go about my work, this pig by my side the whole way until Tom yelled at me and I’d swot at it and I’d get grunts and a nip on the calf. Soon it was all round the town: ‘London rat and his pig pet.’ It came with me to the shops, it followed me to the forest, but got caught in the bracken and made a helluva fuss and I’d have to turn round and go back home again.
‘That pig gets lost, you’re paying for it,’ said Tom.
‘Pigs like the stench of rat,’ said old Wendy and I spat at her and she harrumphed at me, her ugly face all set in an ugly scowl.
‘You’ve got a face just like a chicken arse,’ I said to old Wendy and me and my pig, we went on our way, our arses wiggling, our noses up in the air like we were the rulers of the town.
Then there we were, seeming just like it was back in London, walking right up to that reverend and standing all defiant: ‘Can pigs come to church?’
He looked down at me and he looked down at my pig and he said, ‘I don’t see why not. Pigs are God’s creatures too.’
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, feeling foolish with nowhere for my stored up swearing to go.
‘Just make sure it doesn’t shit all over the place.’
With that, the preacher turned and off he went.
‘As if you’d shit in a church,’ I said, all indignant. I scuffed at the ground and stared at the pig.
‘Corporal Pig. That’s your name and don’t you forget it.’
Monsta liked Corporal Pig. Monsta rode on CP’s back, worm arms swaying with excitement as CP trotted along.
When we started up at school I didn’t like being cooped up but I behaved and did my work (Miss Hallows praised me for being ‘diligent’ and ‘clever’ and I puffed my chest out all proud at that). Turned out the Snap-dragon was the headmistress, which made a lot of sense. I didn’t like her all that much and I was thankful we didn’t see her all that often. I did like Miss Hallows and I liked when we got to read books, but we never read books as exciting as The War of the Worlds or Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The town kids stayed away from the London rats and I was doubly scorned for being diligent and clever. I didn’t need any friends, though. I had CP and Monsta. I sometimes saw that girl who Tom had hit at the station. She was in the class above me and she was so beautiful I could hardly look at her and she didn’t look at me at all.
I was pretty damn tired in term time; up at the crack of dawn to look after the animals, then there was school and straight into chores when I got home, then supper and homework. After homework, when I was in bed, I’d sometimes write stories. Some I made up, but they were mostly the stories Pigeon told me about the ghosts and the lizard people, so I would never forget them. I didn’t have much paper so I’d write them really small in the front and back pages of The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine. Once or twice a week I’d write letters or postcards home, to ma and da and David. I always wrote my address on them and asked them to write, but they never did. I figured they were busy with the war in London. I told David I was at the sea, I told him he should come and we could live together by the sea. I wrote less and less. Tom complained about the cost of the stamps and the wasting of paper and I had more and more chores to do anyway.
On top of all that Tom taught us to shoot. I took to it like I was born for it. John wasn’t any good. ‘John,’ I said, ‘you’re shit-bollocks at this,’ and he shoved me so that I fell over in chicken shit. His head snapped back when he laughed and I was up like a shot, punching his face. He wasn’t laughing then, but spitting blood into the chicken shit, one of his teeth floating in the shit-blood mess. It glistened like a jewel.
‘I was just saying it like it is,’ I said, my anger gone. ‘I can teach you to do it better.’
He was crying by now and Tom came over and didn’t even ask what happened, but just took me by the ear. I’d seen what he’d done to that girl at the station so I expected a beating, but he just dragged me by the ear and shut me in the shed. He let me out in the evening, sat me down and said, ‘No one damages my property.’
Just like that. Not even pretending. I kept my mouth shut. I’d said to Isabella, who wasn’t even there at the station, I’d said to her I knew how to look after myself, so I had to be smarter and not mess things up. I understood Tom. As soon as he said what he said, I understood. He would look after us and treat us well as long as were useful to him, as long as we didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain and knew how to be good property. I knew how to work hard and I knew all about churches and God and I could play the hardworking God worshipper if it meant a good life.
‘You’ve got to compromise sometimes, Goblin,’ David had said to me. ‘You have to allow a little leeway,’ and I knew now what he meant. I knew he had given me that advice so I wouldn’t go and mess up and just be stomped on. ‘You’re clever,’ he said. ‘You’ll figure it out.’
So I nodded when Tom said no one damages his property and I said, ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’ I could tell at once that I needn’t have even said that because it didn’t need to be said, it just wouldn’t happen again, he was that sure. I could tell too that by saying it I might as well have written in my own blood that it wouldn’t happen again. John was a pain and not being able to pummel him was going to be hard work, but then I thought maybe it would build character. Maybe I shouldn’t just pummel people all the time. It’s not as if I have anything to prove. So, I thought, right. I’ll do this. I’ll build character and be all stoic-lipped.
But I did ask for our work to be broken up between us, saying that we’d get things done quicker if we each had our own tasks instead of doing things together. Tom thought for a moment, then nodded. He sat us both down later that evening and told us what tasks we’d each do and I could tell John wasn’t happy but at least he didn’t know it was my idea and he had to obey Tom so that was that. I got my chores done a lot quicker since he wasn’t in the way and I didn’t have to do absolutely everything.
John was still useless at shooting, though.
‘Luke,’ Tom said. ‘You sort him out.’
So I had to teach the idiot to shoot, but he was terrible and he was pretending to be even more terrible just to provoke me. He’d worked out that I’d had some kind of warning and couldn’t hit him, no matter what, so he called me names, telling stories where horrible things happened to me, stories about my origin as Goblin and how my parents must have hated me, how everyone hated me. Sometimes all this rattled my stoic cage, but I just thought of Isabella and David and their advice and mostly managed to ignore him. I’d go into my head so that I didn’t even hardly hear him, he was just a drone, like the insects, except I liked insects.
That was another thing – he didn’t like insects so he killed them and tortured them and left them alive all messed up and broken and I can’t even begin to tell you how badly I wanted to pummel him. I was stoic-lipped and tried my very best to make sure he didn’t see how much it bothered me, made sure he didn’t see how much I loved insects, because then I knew he would get worse, I knew it would be another thing for provoking me and more insects would get hurt so I stayed quiet even though I wanted to rescue the insects and pummel him and I got thinking that this compromising wasn’t as great as David had made out because the insects were still getting hurt and I was still getting hurt because it made me so damn sad and angry so what was the point if I was sad and angry anyway and I was thinking maybe I’d be better off out of this situation away from the pretend parents and the Idiot.