I went back to the neighbourhood every day, keeping an eye on the house. The policemen returned, looked round the house and talked to some neighbours. No house, and ma’s money was running out. We’d no longer have rations for a whole family. We’d starve, we’d die from cold.
I went back to the family and we discussed our situation and I said, ‘Chickens, you’ve got to earn your keep.’
Not long after CP disappeared, I trained the chickens to come when I called to make sure I could keep them from danger. I pretended they were my crew on the good ship Goblin. I’d call ‘Crew!’ and shake their food and they’d come running. I decided to see if they’d still come if I only called and didn’t shake any food for them and they did but they’d fuss and cluck around me, expectant. When I saw how they thought the word crew meant they’d get food I decided to see if I could teach them tricks.
I held an old walking stick horizontal just above the ground and in the other hand I held their food. If they sidled round the stick to get to the food I wouldn’t give them anything. If they jumped the stick I made a clicking noise with my tongue and gave them a reward. They were clever those chickens, they caught on pretty quickly. I raised the stick higher and higher until I thought it looked impressive enough. I worked with them every day, trying out different ideas.
‘We’ll be an Underground hit, me and my chicken crew,’ I said to Groo, who yawned at me. ‘We’ll be a sensation!’
Off we went, busking on the Underground, collecting pennies. We always went to the same station, taking the same route every day. We’d get funny looks from people but I’d pretend like I didn’t notice, nose in air, marching along, calling ‘Crew!’ if they stopped to gobble some insects or roll about in the dust. And off we’d march, people turning to look at us, laughing and calling me Chicken Boy.
We soon had regulars watching our show at the station, laughing and clapping, oohing and aahing when the chickens jumped the stick or jumped through a hoop. I took my scooter apart, leaving only the board with the wheels and tied on a bit of string. When I called Billy Bones he’d jump on the board and when I clicked my fingers Dr Kemp picked up the string in his beak and pulled Billy along the platform. I got cheers and laughter for that one and the chickens got their treats as I was showered with pennies. I worried I might have some trouble with chicken stealers but the regulars soon saw to anyone who tried it on.
‘We’re the breadwinners now,’ I said to the chicken crew, pouring the coins onto the floor of our crypt. ‘Now I need to figure out how to get our house back.’
I went back to our neighbourhood with Monsta every day, leaving the rest of the family in the cemetery. On this day, I stood at Miss Campbell’s gate, all lost in my head, staring at my house. I didn’t know what good just staring at it would do, but that’s what I did, keeping my distance in case the police came back. I was all lost in my head and almost fell in the road with fright when Miss Campbell shouted, ‘Goblin!’ I dropped Monsta who looked all put out and was moody the rest of the day, but it turned out to be a good thing me loitering at Miss Campbell’s. I’d forgotten about poor Betty what with all the troubles I’d been having and I thought Miss Campbell would be mighty mad but she wasn’t, she was just glad I was alright because the police had been round all the neighbours and she thought something had happened to me. Betty came ambling out the door, but when she saw me she trundled down the path and I bent down and she barked in my face and slobbered all over me her tail going like crazy. I ruffled her head and told her I was sorry and I told Miss Campbell my story of woe and tribulations, telling her that no way was I going to an orphanage and losing my family and who would walk Betty, miss? Who? Miss Campbell eyed me for a bit before saying, ‘Don’t you worry, Goblin. I’ll get the authorities off your back.’
‘You serious, miss?’
‘I am.’
‘Why would you do that, miss?’
‘I’ll be straight with you,’ she said, ‘I don’t like kids and I don’t much like adults either.’
‘I know,’ I said, ‘Ma said you were gonna die a withered old maid.’
‘She did, did she?’
‘Yeah, but what did she know?’
‘She’s probably right. I like to keep to my own company, but you’re different.’
‘That’ll be cos I’m part-goblin, miss.’
‘Even so,’ she said, ‘I don’t want responsibility for any children, part-goblin or not. But we can help each other out, can’t we?’
‘Sure, miss.’
‘You can move back to your home with your family and as well as walking old Betty you can do some chores for me, you can get in the food so I don’t have to waste my free time standing in queues for hours. I’ll pay you, Goblin, and you can come round here for your dinner now and then.’
‘So you’ll get the authorities off my back, miss?’
‘Just leave it all to me, Goblin.’
‘Hail the lizards!’ I said to Monsta as I skipped back along the street, back to Kensal Green Cemetery to tell the family the good news. I couldn’t wait to rub it in that Amelia’s smug face.
Miss Campbell told the authorities she’d be my guardian and that a relative would come over from the U.S. to look after me in a few months. So we all moved back home and every day I walked old Betty and did some chores and Miss Campbell paid me. She had me over for dinner sometimes but she was so busy working I didn’t see her all that often. The money she gave me helped feed the family, and I thought I could do chores for the whole neighbourhood as well as fix anything that needed fixing and that way I could pay the rent when old Martha’s son came to sort out her affairs.
The family was happy and me and Monsta, we were busy – we became death-defiers, animal rescuers. At night we’d scooter round the city watching the parachute flares glowing all amber and green, casting spooky colours and shadows across the buildings. Ping ping ping, incendiaries littered the road, fizzing and sparking, lighting up Monsta all strange with their green-white flames.
‘The Martians are here,’ I said to Monsta, sure that I saw their giant insect legs pick their way through the streets, slicing through the smoke and dust. I put on my gas mask and walked through the devastation, Monsta clinging to my neck, peering over my shoulder. Flames erupted amongst the rubble and I skipped between them, watching the insect-Martian disappear to the sound of a distant explosion. People were scattered around the street, plunging their stirrup pumps into buckets, drenching the bombs. I got water from tanks for people who were having a hard time of it, fetching and carrying until those demons were dead then off we’d go, scootering round the street looking for animals. Monsta and I, we’d sneak sneak sneak round the ARP wardens and cordoned off bomb-filled streets picking up any pets we could find, searching for hours, peering in windows, breaking into houses, picking them up right off the street, chasing them, coaxing them if they weren’t of the disposition that would make them so inclined to come near us pet-napping bomb-defiers. We’d make trip upon trip upon sneaky trip in and out of the danger zone with cats, dogs, rabbits and birds.
We rescued as many as we could. It was our job, me and Monsta, and we worked round the clock.
Sneaking done and dusted our work was still tick-tock tick-tock all hours, feeding, rehoming, taking them to the vet and I couldn’t even pay the bills. I couldn’t trust those vets, those no-money-no-way vets who would ‘dispose’ of my rescued pets. I found a vet I could trust with their lives and who would patch up any old beast for me but then the family got too big and chaotic and there was a complete lack of harmonious niceties when cats screeched and scratched and dogs chased the chickens. All this only went and caused more trips to the vets and a hardship of looking out and keeping them apart and inspecting every room and every creature and feeding them all and cleaning up shit and dirt and stink and there I was all collapsed exhausted, no longer able to stand up and call myself a bomb-defying rescuer, instead I was a shit-wallowing stinker.