The media are here. Only a handful of them, the few that are after something different to the Eurozone crisis, something different to riots and phone hacking. They stand around behind the police line. I can’t imagine they’ll last long; there’s nothing to see.
‘Where’s Mac?’ I ask Detective Curtis.
‘He helped us. Told us where he thinks it’s located, then he left. He wasn’t feeling well. What do you think? Does this look about right?’
‘I don’t know. It’s hard to get my bearings. It’s all changed.’
‘We’ll start here,’ said the detective. ‘Maybe we’ll be lucky.’
‘Lucky?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It would just make things easier if this was quick.’
‘Did Mac tell you everything?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know it all?’
‘I do, but I’d like to hear it from you.’
I say nothing.
‘You can tell me when you’re ready.’
I nod.
‘This is going to take some time,’ he says. ‘You don’t need to stay. I’ll call if we find anything.’
I stare at where they’re digging.
‘I’ll call you,’ the detective says and walks over to talk to one of the workmen.
I hover, still staring. It’s difficult to see the past here, hard to see this as the place where Mac, Stevie, Devil and I used to come and sit by a fire telling stories.
‘You’re Goblin?’
A woman stands next to me, one of the reporters.
‘You’re Goblin, right?’
‘I am.’
‘I’m Belinda Cartwright. You can call me Linda,’ she says, offering her hand. I take her hand and she says, ‘Mind if I record?’ She holds her phone up, nods and smiles as if I responded and says, ‘What’s your real name?’
‘Goblin.’
‘You don’t look like a goblin. In fact, you’re awfully pretty for your age, if a bit skinny. I need your real name.’
‘My name is Goblin.’
‘You changed it?’
‘It’s been my name since the day I was born.’
‘Do you have something to hide?’
‘No.’
‘Then surely your name won’t hurt.’
‘I’m Goblin.’
‘Your surname?’
‘Just Goblin.’
Linda smiles and says, ‘Is it true you used to pretend to be a boy?’
‘You spoke to Mac?’
‘Mr Mackenzie? I did.’
‘I didn’t pretend. I just wore my brother’s hand-me-downs and had short hair.’
‘So, this is where all the animals are buried?’
I look at her for a moment and she prompts me, ‘The pets killed in World War Two?’
‘Some of them, yes.’
‘And you saw it?’
‘I did.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Nine.’
‘That must have been a horrible thing to see.’
‘It was.’
‘Why do you think people did it? Killed them in such vast numbers?’
‘I thought it was Nazis,’ I say, remembering when we played Nazis, Frankenstein’s monsta and Martians. I look across the worksite, searching for our den, trying to imagine it as it used to be. ‘Stevie was the Nazi.’
‘Who’s Stevie?’
‘No one. Just a friend.’
‘He was a Nazi?’
‘We used to play a game, that’s all. He pretended to be a Nazi. At the time we thought it was Nazi spies who’d killed the pets. I couldn’t believe we were responsible.’
‘Why would Nazi spies kill pets?’
‘To demoralise us.’
‘And what do you think now?’
‘There was worry about how animals would react to bombing, so people thought it was a mercy killing. Animals weren’t allowed in public shelters, weren’t allowed on evacuation. There were laws against feeding your pets food humans could eat and you’d be fined if you did.’
‘But why euthanize them so soon after war was declared? In such vast numbers when there hadn’t been any bombing yet?’
‘It wasn’t euthanasia,’ I say. ‘There was nothing wrong with them. They weren’t ill.’
‘“Kill”, then. Why were so many of them killed so soon?’
‘I don’t know… Worry about what was to come.’
‘Why did you bury the camera?’
‘What?’
‘The camera. You’re the one in the photo, aren’t you? The camera was found in a graveyard with some old bones, doll parts and a rat head.’
‘Shrew. It was a shrew head.’
‘Why did you bury those things?’
Queen Isabella stands next to Linda, the pinned heart dripping blood.
‘Yes, Goblin, why did you bury those things? Are you going to tell her?’
Linda looks to where I’m staring, then back at me.
‘What is it? Do you remember something?’
‘No. I just… What was the question?’
‘Why did you bury things in the graveyard?’
Spectre-Monsta appears from behind Linda, slowly climbing up her arm.
‘It was like a time capsule,’ I say, watching Monsta’s ascent. ‘That’s all.’
‘So you meant it to be found?’
Amelia walks along the worksite with Scholler, joining us.
I shake my head and say, ‘I need a drink.’
‘You’d like a drink?’ asks Linda. ‘It’s a bit early, but I’d be happy to take you for one. We could find somewhere nice, have a good long chat.’
‘No, forget it,’ I say, scowling at Amelia and Scholler. ‘I think I should—’
‘The camera, the things you buried, you meant people to find them?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You said it was a time capsule. You meant for people to find it in the future.’
‘Not really,’ I say, looking at Monsta, now sat on Linda’s shoulder.
‘Not really?’
‘I don’t know. It was just a game. That’s all.’
‘Why don’t you just tell her,’ says Amelia, crossing her arms. ‘It’s all going to come out anyway.’
‘They might not find him,’ I say.
‘Find who?’ asks Linda.
‘No one,’ I say, ‘I’m sorry, but I need to get going.’
‘How did you feel when you saw the photographs in the papers?’
‘How did I feel?’
‘Were you happy to see them?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? Why didn’t you come forward?’
‘Leave the past in the past.’
‘So you didn’t mean for it to be found?’
‘No, I don’t know. I didn’t expect it. I’d forgotten. It was all forgotten.’
‘Why are they digging up the animal remains?’
‘They’re going to relocate them, give them a proper grave with a marker.’
‘Seems like a lot of time and money just for animal bones.’
‘It’s right that they should be remembered,’ I say. ‘It’s right that we pay tribute to them.’
‘But wouldn’t the money be better used for an animal shelter? Isn’t that a better tribute?’
‘I don’t… I’m not…’
‘She’ll find out soon enough,’ says Amelia.
‘She will,’ says Queen Isabella.
‘I need to go,’ I say. ‘I need to get back home.’
‘Where’s home?’
‘A hotel.’
‘What hotel? Give me your details so I can get in touch and clarify anything.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘It’s in your interest. You can make sure I have everything right.’
I walk away.
‘Wait! Here’s my card. You can call me, Goblin. If there’s anything you want to add, give me a call.’
I take the card and leave the site, followed by Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler. I leave spectre-Monsta perching on Linda’s shoulder.
I lie in bed with the papers, Red Queen snoring at my feet. I’d found her in the street, a skinny and dirty ginger cat. I took her to the vet. They kept her in a couple of nights then I sneaked her into the hotel. She peed everywhere but in her tray and I tried to clean it up the best I could. This can’t last. I have to find somewhere else to stay.