‘I’d heard about the boy locked up in the cage,’ said James, ‘so I paid the sideshow a visit and paid a hefty price for Adam. Lenny simply followed me, leaving of his own free will. That’s all.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Frank, one of the dwarfs who played the tuba in the brass band. ‘He’s just down-playing it all because he doesn’t want to get caught after stabbing the sideshow proprietor and stealing Adam. It was in all the papers.’
‘James killed a man?’
‘So they say.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
‘The papers. He will have killed plenty more by now, eh, Goblin? But it’s for King and country. God save the King.’
I asked Mad if James had killed a man but she just said, ‘Don’t listen to those gossip-mongers and storytellers, G. There’s nothing controversial here apart from that bastard who locked up Adam.’
There were many stories like that; tales woven by so many different people that no one knew what was true anymore and the tales flowed when the wine flowed. People came and went, an old circus family stayed for months after being bombed out, others just dropped by, sleeping on the couch, in the bath, in the hallway. The circus men who weren’t freaks were drafted. Everyone else worked, even the freaks.
‘No one wanted us before,’ said old Louise. ‘But now there’s a war on they can find work for us. Now there’s a war on we’re worth something.’
‘Not me,’ said Adam. ‘I’m not worth anything.’
No one would give him a job – they just took one look at his hands and turned him away.
‘You are worth something,’ I said, ‘They’re just idiots.’
We retreated to my bedroom where I kicked out Holly and Lester who were sprawled out on my bed having some drunken conversation. Adam lay down on my bed and I curled up next to him, my leg over his, my arm around his waist. I burrowed my head into his neck, smelling and kissing him.
‘You’re my first girlfriend,’ he said. ‘Girls can’t see past these. Not like you.’
I pulled back and looked at him for a moment.
‘Why would I see past them?’ I said.
I kissed him on the lips and pressed myself into him, rubbing myself against his thigh. I flicked my tongue out, like a lizard, tasting him. His tongue met mine and pushed into my mouth.
‘Goblin!’
I jumped, pulling away from Adam.
‘Goblin?’ said Mad. She knocked on the door. ‘You in there? You’ve not done your chores. The kitchen’s a mess.’
I rolled my eyes at Adam and said, ‘I’ll do them later.’
‘You said that yesterday. Now, Goblin.’
‘Okay, okay. I’m coming.’
I kissed Adam and said, ‘There’s never any peace here.’
He came with me and helped with my chores. Old Louise was sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer and singing to herself. Adam and I swayed to the sound of her voice, bumping up against each other, giving each other love-eyes as we tidied and cleaned.
One morning after one of our parties I woke up with my stomach all cramped up and I thought I was dying, but then I bled from between my legs and I knew I was okay. When I felt the wetness I put my hand in my pants and my fingers came away bloody. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and smeared the blood across my cheeks like I was a warrior.
I went to my room and tore up an old shirt, stuffing it in my pants. I was worrying about what ma had said about the curse and having babies so I went to find Mad. She was having breakfast in the kitchen with old Louise. I sat down and helped myself to toast. Mad poured me some tea.
‘What’s that on your face?’
‘The curse.’
‘What?’
‘The curse came.’
Mad and Louise looked at each other, eyebrows raised, then laughed. Old Louise had quite the cackle and Lizard King shouted through from the sitting room for her to keep it down.
‘So you smeared it on your face?’ said Mad.
I shrugged, looking from her to old Louise.
‘It seemed the thing to do,’ I said and stuffed the toast into my mouth.
‘How old are you now, G?’
There was a pause as I chewed and old Louise said, ‘She’s a woman now.’
I shook my head and said ‘Still a goblin. Always a goblin.’
‘A fourteen-year-old goblin?’ said Mad.
I nodded.
‘You’re growing up so fast.’
‘Well,’ said Louise, ‘She might be growing up fast, but she’s got a thing or two to learn.’
‘Why’d you call it a curse?’ asked Mad.
‘That’s what ma said it was.’
‘It’s not, G. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ She looked at me a moment, then laughed. ‘Though, I don’t think you have a problem with that,’ she said, gesturing to the stripes of blood across my cheeks. She offered me more toast and said, ‘What do you know about it?’
‘Not much. Ma said the blood makes babies.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Mostly,’ I said.
‘Do you know anything about sex?’
‘A bit. I’ve done some things with Adam.’
‘With Adam?’ Mad’s eyes widened. ‘What things?’
‘Just… You know, kissing.’
‘Is that all?’
I nodded.
‘But how do you think the blood makes babies? How do you think that all works?’
‘Oh, please,’ said Louise, ‘are we getting all birds and the bees? It’s too early for this.’
She stood up, shuffled over to the cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whisky and shuffled back to the table, grabbing two glasses on the way.
‘Is it not too early for that, Louise?’
Old Louise ignored her and poured herself a glass. Mad placed her hand over the other glass and Louise snapped, ‘It’s not for you.’
‘Louise!’
‘It’s to take the edge off for the poor girl.’
Louise poured the whisky and slammed the glass in front of me. Mad pursed her lips and shook her head at me.
‘I can see you, you know.’
‘She’s my daughter, Louise.’
I was pleased that Mad called me her daughter.
‘You don’t have to drink that, G,’ said Mad, pouring me more tea.
I sniffed the whisky, took a sip and screwed up my face.
‘So what do you know? What did your ma tell you?’
‘She just said babies came from the blood, so I thought that if you kept the blood in a jar and if you looked after it, kept it warm, a baby would grow, like a plant.’
Louise slammed her hand on the table, making me jump, and cackled.
‘It’s silly,’ I said, blushing, looking from Mad to Louise and back. ‘I was just a kid.’
Old Louise, slowing down to a chuckle, nodded at my whisky and said, ‘Knock that back, child. You’re going to need it.’
I did as Louise said, feeling it burn my tongue and throat and warm my belly. Mad whisked away my glass as old Louise tried to pour more. She lit a cigarette and said, ‘I think that’s kind of beautiful. Growing a baby in a jar of blood.’
‘It’s morbid is what it is,’ said old Louise.
‘I like it,’ said Mad. ‘It would make a good story.’
She got up and went to the stove to make more tea. When she sat down she explained it all to me. I’d pieced some of it together already but now it all made sense, no gaps for my imagination to fill. Mad even showed me how to use a condom and I was relieved I didn’t have to have children. I didn’t want them, ever.
‘You might change your mind,’ Mad said.
‘I won’t,’ I said.
‘Children are only trouble,’ said old Louise.
Mad rolled her eyes at her.