Читать книгу Goodbye for Now: A breathtaking historical debut - M.J. Hollows - Страница 13

Joe was walking through Chinatown the next day when he saw George and Tom Adams across the road. The signs on the shops and even the street signs were in Chinese. The Chinese seemed to be the largest of the sailor communities, huddling around the area of Nelson Street and integrating with the Liverpudlians in the area.

Joe couldn’t imagine settling in another country, especially one so far away from his home. But perhaps it had been easier for them than returning home. Who knew what kind of prospects they had back in China? At least here they had families and work.

His brother and Tom were walking along the road in the opposite direction to him. Of course, he saw them first, and as of yet they hadn’t noticed him. It was always the same way. He had a habit of disappearing into crowds, and he was so far outside their world they didn’t have any reason for acknowledging his presence. They must have been on their way home from the dock, chatting together in their usual way. Unusually, they didn’t look as happy as they normally did. Often when Joe saw the pair of them, they were too happily tied up in some inane conversation to notice him go by. Most of the time he didn’t mind, happy to meld into the background and avoid an awkward conversation with them. Today, however, he walked closer to the side of the road to make himself more noticeable. He wanted them to see him, he wanted to speak to his brother, if only in passing.

With luck, Tom crossed the road, George shortly behind him. They weaved between a couple of carts, before making their way across the cobbles.

‘Afternoon, Joe,’ Tom said, upon seeing him. He was always the more friendly of the two, with a smile for anyone he passed – though Joe suspected he wasn’t always the best influence on George. Recognition dawned on George’s face as he came closer, but he simply nodded. ‘On the way to work?’ Tom asked, before Joe had a chance to say hello.

‘Err, well, I have a few things to do first,’ he said, put off by the unexpected conversation. George had his hands in his pockets and looked around the road, seeming disinterested in any conversation. ‘George, could you tell Mum that I will be late this evening and not to worry about food?’

‘Sure,’ he said, nodding slightly. ‘We’re on our way home now. She probably won’t be surprised.’ This was the most they had said to each other in weeks. Sharing a bedroom was one thing, but working different hours meant they seldom saw each other.

‘No, I suppose not.’ The atmosphere was awkward, and Joe felt uncomfortable standing still on the pavement, but he so much wanted to talk to George, to reach out and feel something between them. He never could say the rights words, and it hurt him. He felt as if George believed that he had nothing to say to him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. ‘The war’s creating a lot of work for us at the paper.’ He scratched at his collar, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. ‘A lot of the men at the paper have already left to sign up, and we’re having to do extra work to make up. I shouldn’t complain. You two possibly have it a lot worse.’

‘Yeah, there’s not much work on the dock at the moment. It could pick up with the war, but who knows?’ Again, Tom was the one to speak. George nodded at his words, as if thinking of something else. How had they grown so far apart? Joe was only a few years older than his kid brother, but the divide was a gulf. ‘We’ve been considering the war ourselves. Everybody is talking about it. We’ve been wondering what’s going on out there, what our lads have been up to. We should read your paper.’

George gave Tom a dig in the ribs with his elbow, and Tom yelped with mock pain. ‘We’d best leave you to it, Joe. Come on, Tom,’ George said, finally finding his voice.

‘Yes. There’s some stuff I need to do before work,’ he said, feeling the newspaper in his jacket’s inside pocket. ‘See you at home?’

George nodded with a slight hesitation as the pair of them walked away from Joe.

‘Goodbye, Joe,’ Tom called after him.

‘Goodbye, George,’ Joe muttered under his breath, ignoring Tom.