‘They’re not going in anyone’s belly. I’m looking after them and I’ll guard them with my life.’
He eyed me.
‘Aye, well, ye better be getting back to ’em then.’
I looked round and said, ‘What you doing down here in the tunnels, Mr Fenwick?’
‘It’s ma home.’
‘You seen any lizard people?’
He pushed me and said, ‘Get lost like I told ye.’
‘I brought you offerings,’ I said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Offerings… for the Lizard King. You may as well have ’em.’
I poured the offerings on the ground and he rummaged through them. He sat chewing on some bread. I took my torch back and looked around. It was a dump. Junk everywhere, and a makeshift bed.
‘I’m the Lizard King,’ he said. I shone the torch in his eyes. ‘And we dinnae like light,’ he said, putting his arm across his face.
I lowered the torch.
‘You’re no Lizard King. You’re just Mr Fenwick.’
‘That’s ma pseudonym, lad. No one wants tae think their neighbour’s a lizard person, eh?’
I shook my head.
‘I accept yer offering,’ he said, sweeping all the food into an old box by his bed. ‘But what Lizard Kings really like is cigarettes. Ye can get some of those, can’t ye?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Get, then. I’ll see ye the morn.’
I made my way out of the tunnels, Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler guiding me back.
‘That man was definitely not a king,’ said Isabella. ‘There isn’t an ounce of royal blood in him, lizard or not.’
‘I know,’ I said, ‘it was just Mr Fenwick, but—’
But he could be the Lizard King if I wanted him to be. He could be my partner in busking: The Lizard King and Goblin of the Realm Below. We’d dazzle the crowds, that was certain.
He mostly said nothing. I’d give him food and cigarettes and he’d eat and smoke and shoo me out with a gesture, but I’d stay and talk and tell him my plans for us both.
‘I like your face,’ I said one time. He looked like he would stab me with his fork but he kept eating and I kept talking. I told him who he was. I knew what I was doing – seducing him with a new identity, a new way of being in the realm above.
‘I’m Goblin-runt born blue,’ I said. ‘And you’re the Lizard King. You cried tears of acid for your loved one who died in the realm above and now you hide away, but I’ll take you above and tell your story. People will love your story,’ I said. ‘I’ll paint you green and people will love you. I’ll tell your story and people will love me. We’ll make a fortune.’
He chewed and he smoked, not even looking at me.
‘A fortune?’ he said.
‘We’ll dazzle ’em!’
We were an instant hit.
Sitting underground, piled on top of each other, both scared and bored all at once, everyone appreciated a distraction.
‘Roll up! Roll up!’ I yelled, ‘Come see the tragic Lizard King of the Realm Below.’
In my da’s old coat I was disappeared but for my fingertips and my monster head made out of bits cut from ma’s nightdress. I’d cut out holes for my eyes but they were squint, my face all lopsided with a huge clown grin scrawled across with lipstick. My short hair stuck out all angles in-between the bits of bunched up wool I’d tied into it and all the Lizard King had to say was that we were supposed to be entertaining people not scaring the holy bejeesus out of them. What do you know, Lizard King old man all hiding in your cave? I clutched a stick, holding it aloft, shuffling toward him all clumsy in da’s old shoes. I’d tied Monsta to the stick, my trusty companion in entertainment. I’m being mysterious, I said to that Lizard King. People will be all interested in us in their curiosity. Lizard King stood looking uncomfortable in a smart-as-can-be dinner jacket I scavenged from a bombsite, his face all painted green apart from his scars. He nudged me out the way and looked in the mirror.
‘We look a right coupla cunts.’
‘We’ll be an instant hit,’ I said and handed him the mask I’d made him.
We were already in the Underground as the bombs fell and the crowds gathered.
‘Roll up! Roll up!’
People shuffled over, gathering round, mumbling grumbling, what’s all this then what’s he supposed to be some sort of clown you from the circus let’s see a trick then!
‘I’ll tell you a story,’ I said. ‘The tragic true story of the Lizard King.’
What’d he say a story about the king sshh!
‘Underground,’ I said, pausing, ‘underground is where the lizard people live.’
Lizard people what a loada bollocks shut up let ’im tell the damn story will ya.
‘Underground is where the Lizard King lives and he shoots poison from his eyes. There was one time he cried when he was in human form and his skin peeled away as if burned by acid.’
I dragged my fingers down my masked face.
What kinda story is this lizards and poison nonsense he’ll scare the wee uns shut up I wanna hear the rest shut up will you?
‘When it healed, he had silver scars from his eyes to the corners of his mouth, to his chin. Half of his lower lip was burned away.’
What made the Lizard King cry yeah why’d the sissy lizard cry anyway shut up sshh!
‘The Lizard King cried because of the Lizard Queen.’
It’s always some woman’s fault hahaa yeah shut up already or I’ll shut you up.
‘The Lizard Queen had gone to the Realm Above, the realm where you and I live and work and play. The lizard people can take on human form and walk amongst us.’
My landlord’s a lizard person that’s for sure ssh! all cold hearted shut up as cold as can be shh let her finish!
‘The Lizard Queen was in the Realm Above and a human man fell in love with her. He kept her in the Realm Above beyond the witching hour and she became trapped in human form. She could no longer descend to the Realm Below. The only signs left she was a lizard person were her red glinting eyes and her shimmering skin. When people saw her they thought her eyes and skin were made of jewels and they turned mad with greed. They thought if they plucked out her eyes and picked the jewels from her skin they’d be rich. So they plucked out her eyes but they were only eyes and they ripped at her shimmering skin but it was only skin. The Lizard King came to the Realm Above to search for his queen and that was the one time the Lizard King cried. He hunted down every person responsible for the Lizard Queen’s death and he plucked out their eyes the way they’d plucked out hers and he skinned them alive the way they’d skinned her. From each person he kept a token and he strung the body parts in his palace and lived the rest of his days in mourning.’
Throat clearing and shuffling and grumbling and what kind of story is that horrible disgusting it’s a parable like Jesus tells what does it mean it means don’t be a greedy bastard doesn’t mean nuthin pile of nonsense thought he was a clown do some tricks it means don’t steal people’s eyes that’s the moral of the story don’t steal no no no it’s don’t judge by appearances don’t covet someone else’s Lizard Queen do some tricks make us laugh what kinda clown are you anyway?
‘This,’ I said, talking over them, ‘This is the Lizard King.’
What was that what’d he say shut up I can’t hear he said that’s the Lizard King.
‘This,’ I said again, ‘is the Lizard King.’
They all turned and stared at old Mr Fenwick who’d been all hunched up swamped by the dinner jacket, hidden by the mask. He stood up all tall and slowly slowly slowly just like we practiced raised his hand to the mask and now no one was talking you could hear the bombs dropping ping ping up above all held their breath as his bony green hand clasped at the mask and slowly slowly slowly just like we’d practiced he lowered it. His eyes were closed. I’d painted red lizard eyes on his eyelids, the rest of his face painted green but the scars, the silver-red scars weaving down his face from his eyes like tears. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd.