Читать книгу Goodbye for Now: A breathtaking historical debut - M.J. Hollows - Страница 19

Frank leaned over and dropped a newspaper in front of him, as Joe was crossing out some lines on a piece of paper. It was that morning’s copy of The Times.

‘What’s this, Frank?’

‘You know what it is. It’s The Times. What else could it be? Have you gone blind all of a sudden?’ He cackled and Joe struggled not to give him a stern look that a school teacher might give an unruly pupil.

‘You know what I mean, Frank. Why have you thrown it on my desk? I was busy working.’

‘When are you not busy working, Joe? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stop. You’re always in here before me, and still here after I’ve gone home for the night.’

That much was true, but often he was just reading, or trying his hand at writing. Every morning he would come back in and go over what he had written, then throw it away in disgust. The only way he would get better was to keep trying.

‘It’s a report on the British Army, Joe,’ Frank said, bringing Joe out of his reverie by prodding the paper with his index finger. ‘It’s not looking good.’

He flicked through the first couple of pages. The grainy pictures of smiling soldiers and waving men at the recruiting offices were a stark contrast to the headlines and articles. Perhaps that was the whole point, Joe thought. The British Army had been heavily defeated at the small Belgian town of Mons, it said. They had taken over a thousand casualties and were on the retreat.

He set the newspaper down and took a sip of water from a glass on his desk. His throat had gone dry.

‘Are you all right, lad? You look pale as a ghost.’

Concern and confusion was etched across Frank’s face, and he could clearly sense Joe’s discomfort. He took the newspaper back when Joe didn’t reply.

‘I just keep thinking of our George going out there.’

‘I didn’t think he’d shipped out yet?’

‘No, he’s not gone yet, but soon they say. With heavy losses like this, they will be sending them all over as soon as possible. See how many they’ve lost, and the war has only just started.’

‘Well, wait, look here,’ Frank said, prodding the newspaper and waving it in his face. ‘It also says that the Germans suffered many more casualties, expected to be in the thousands.’

‘Oh, and that means it’s going to be all right, does it?’ Joe felt ashamed at his outburst, but Frank was unconcerned.

‘It’s war, lad. There’re bound to be casualties. But if we’re inflicting more than them, then we will win. It’s a simple matter of numbers. We’ve suffered defeats before and still won the war, and still looked good in uniform.’ He smiled emphatically, but it had no effect on Joe.

‘It also says here,’ Joe said, grabbing the newspaper, ‘that we’re on the retreat.’ He paused for a second, waiting for it to settle in. He had never thought of the British Army as ‘we’ before. The idea of nationalism was disconcerting. Perhaps the national pride was working its way into his psyche too. ‘The British Army are almost as far back as Paris. That’s something like… like a hundred and thirty miles from where they started. They’re no longer helping Belgium, not anymore. The Germans far, far outnumber the British Army, even if they keep inflicting casualties, it’s unsustainable.’

‘Then they’re gonna need our help, lad. You know it makes sense.’

Joe sighed.

‘Come on, lad. I keep saying you’d look good in a uniform. There may be lots of them Germans, but they’ll take one look at you and run away with their tails between their legs.’

He made a sound like a dog whimpering and ran around the desk. Some of the other men looked up, wondering what was going on, and Joe laughed.

‘Carry on like that, and you’ll get yourself shot,’ he said as Frank sat down again, lazily draping his arm over the back of the chair. ‘They’ll shoot you just to shut you up.’

‘Steady on, lad,’ Frank said, all mock innocence. ‘I have the very vocal cords of a tenor, me.’ He burst into song, singing a couple of lines then stopping. ‘Even the Germans will be rushing over to hear me. Hah.’

‘I’d like to see that.’

He was being honest. It would be quite a sight, and perhaps show some semblance of peace. ‘But, no, not for me. It’s bad enough that our George is heading out there. I’ll not be joining the army, no matter what they say.’

‘Oh well, I didn’t think I’d ever convince you, lad. You knows what you wants. Far more than I ever did.’ He patted Joe on the arm, but this time it was as a sign of friendship, not in a playful manner. ‘This is something I want. I reckon this is my last day, lad.’

‘I was wondering how long you would last,’ Joe said, not knowing what else to say.

‘Then I’m off in the morning to take the shilling and sign an oath.’

He put his hand on Joe’s arm again and turned his body gently so that he was looking into Frank’s eyes. He was serious for a change.

‘Will you do something for me, Joe?’ he said.

‘What?’

‘While I’m gone… will you… will you look after all the girls for me?’

Frank burst out laughing again and pushed back on his chair, whilst wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. ‘You’re a softie you, lad. Had you going for a minute.’

Joe tried not to get angry at Frank’s ridiculing, he knew he was only joking. ‘Oh, are you still here, Frank?’

‘Hah! At least you have a sense of humour though. I’d be worried I might upset you otherwise.’

Joe didn’t think that Frank would ever be worried about upsetting anyone, he was too free and easy. He acted like he didn’t have a care in the world. Everything was a joke to him.

‘You know you’ll have to do all the boring work while I’m gone, don’t you, Joe? Can’t say that I’m sorry. I’d rather get away before it all piles up on my desk.’

‘Yes, well your spelling is atrocious anyway.’

‘Hah!’

Joe would miss Frank’s laughter around the office, that was for sure, and he wasn’t looking forward to the amount of work he would have to do. But that didn’t matter. He felt like he was losing a friend, and who knew if Frank would come back? The office would be a lot quieter, and a lot duller without him. He would only have Mr Harlow’s soft wheezing to keep him company on the long nights of overseeing casualty lists and reports from the front.

‘Listen, Frank. It’s my turn to be soppy now.’

‘Oh, ’ere we go. I thought you were already being soppy. Is that not a normal state of affairs for you? You actually mean you’re going to get worse? I’m not sure if I can take it. It’s completely against my martial pride.’

‘Shut up, Frank, and listen for once.’

Frank leant an arm on his desk and lay the side of his head at an angle on his upturned palm, to show that he was listening, then smiled at Joe. ‘Go on,’ he said.

Joe tutted, wound up by Frank’s levity.

‘Just when you’re out there. If you see my brother, you look after him. All right?’

‘Ah, I was only joking. Of course I will. I’ll take George under my arm and show him how a man in uniform behaves. Show him how to charm the ladies, since I seem to have failed with you. Hah!’

‘If you ever find him somewhere he shouldn’t be—’ Joe ignored Frank ‘—you do me a favour and make sure you get him out of there. Get him to safety. All right? Do that for me?’

‘All right, all right. You’re so serious sometimes, I worry about you. You’re going to end up very lonely sometime if you keep it up, you know? I won’t always be there to cheer you up.’

Joe grumbled. He didn’t need Frank to tell him that. Besides, it wasn’t the point, he was asking about his brother.

‘I can’t promise anything, Joe,’ Frank said. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen out there? I may never see him. He could be in a completely different regiment to me. But, I promise you I’ll try to find him, and if I ever see him in danger then I will do what I can.’

‘Good, that’s all I ask.’

‘You know, if you’re so worried about him, you could enlist yourself and keep an eye on him? It would be the best way, you could do more than I could.’

‘I don’t think he would appreciate his older brother mothering him in the army. Besides, you know I’m not going to enlist, no matter how much you try and convince me.’

‘Oh, go on. It’ll be fun. You won’t have a foil for your seriousness if you stay here on your own.’

‘No, Frank.’

‘Not even if I forced you?’ He balled up Joe’s sleeve in his fist, but it was gentle, and threatened to pull him off his chair. All the time he was smiling, the gesture lighting up his blue eyes. Joe tried not to resist, knowing that it would upset his friend.

‘No, not even if I’m forced, Frank. You can’t drag me round with you everywhere to keep you out of trouble.’

‘Hah.’

A wheezing sound passed down the rows of desks, accompanied by the clop of heavy footsteps. Joe looked up just in time to see a puff of smoke and then Mr Harlow’s round face peered out of the cloud.

‘What on earth are you two up to now?’ he said, shaking his head, glancing at where Frank still held Joe’s sleeve. Frank let go quickly.

‘Just chatting, Mr Harlow,’ Joe said, trying to distract him. ‘Sorry about the noise, you know how excitable Frank can get.’ With that, he gave Frank a very pointed stare, who merely shrugged in reply.

‘Hmmm,’ Mr Harlow said, before taking another puff of his cigar. ‘I knew I should have split you two up on day one. It’s a wonder you get any work done at all, Gallagher.’

Frank mumbled something under his breath, but Joe didn’t catch the words.

‘I should bring my office out here, so I can keep an eye on you.’ There was a glint in Mr Harlow’s eye which showed that he was joking, but Frank just stared at the pile of work on his desk with a frown. ‘At least I wouldn’t miss out on the fun,’ Mr Harlow continued, ignoring Frank. ‘Do you have that work I asked you for?’

He could do that so well, Joe thought. Go from reprimanding someone to being their friend, then asking them for the work that they should have been doing. It was a well-practised management technique he had picked up somewhere. Joe couldn’t think where he might have got such a thing; as far as he knew, Mr Harlow had been at the newspaper his entire life.

Frank shuffled through the papers on his desk, making what was a mess into an altogether different type of mess. He found what he wanted between a pile of books and pulled it out, smiling to himself. The books clattered onto the floor. Without attempting to pick them up, he handed the paper to Mr Harlow.

‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘I finished it this morning. Had I known you wanted it that desperately I’d have brought it you.’ He beamed with pride at having not been found wanting by Mr Harlow and smirked at Joe who shook his head and scoffed.

‘You should get that framed, Mr Harlow,’ Frank said.

‘Oh, why?’ He frowned at the two younger men.

‘It’ll be worth something one day. The last article that Frank Gallagher, national hero, ever edited. It’ll be priceless.’

‘You’re priceless, Frank,’ Joe said, laughing.

‘Another one leaving me.’ Mr Harlow tutted and shook his head. ‘Don’t think that there will be a job for you here when you get back. I can’t go keeping spaces for everyone that fancies their hand at soldiering. We’ve got a paper to run, you know. The owner said, “We have to support our brave men and boys,” but what does he know about running a paper, eh?’

He stared for a few seconds, as if willing them to answer his question.

‘Just you make sure that you get the rest of those articles ready to go for tomorrow’s paper, all right? I’ll have to go off and sort out finding someone to do your work, not that it’s much. Still, someone’s got to do it, even if it’s a trained monkey.’

He walked off, leaving a cloud of acrid smoke in his wake. The wheezing grew quieter as his footsteps diminished into the distance.

‘Well, I never. That was a bit rude,’ Frank said shaking his head and trying to tidy his desk. ‘He’s never spoken to me like that before.’

‘He doesn’t seem very happy with you,’ Joe said. ‘Not his usual self anyway. What have you done this time, Frank?’

Frank’s mouth opened in shock.

‘Why do you always assume I’ve done something? I’m offended.’

‘Because I know you, Frank. You’re always up to something. What is it this time?’

‘I’m not sure if you’ve suddenly developed a sense of humour, or if you’re just being rude, lad.’

Joe fought the urge to smile. He enjoyed getting one up on Frank, but this time he wanted to know what was up with Mr Harlow. Usually, he fell over backwards to keep his staff happy. Joe had never seen or heard him have a go at anyone before. Nor had he heard him bad mouth the owner before. Something was definitely amiss.

‘Perhaps it’s just because I’m leaving,’ Frank said. ‘He’s going to miss me around here, with stony faces like yours.’

Joe lost the fight and burst out laughing again.

‘Frank, your world must be perfect, what with the sun revolving around you and everything.’ He grinned at Frank, who bowed theatrically.

‘I’m gone tomorrow, lad. And the sun will probably follow me too. This place is dark enough already.’

‘It’s not that bad, you’re exaggerating. You’re going to miss out on all the fun, Frank.’

‘Aye, perhaps. I will miss the place. And I did really want to see that new Chaplin film. Guess I’ll have to catch it on leave, if the army can spare me when it is showing. I suppose I’ll let you come with me.’

‘Thanks.’ Joe rolled his eyes, but Frank didn’t notice. ‘Do you think, perhaps, that Harlow’s upset because everyone is leaving. Not just you?’

‘No, it’s not that. Them other lot were useless when they was ’ere. I’m pretty sure he was glad to see the back of them.’

‘How can you be so sure it was something else?’

‘Well.’ Frank leaned over to Joe’s desk and then looked to see if anyone could be listening to their conversation. ‘I happened to walk past Harlow’s office yesterday.’

Joe felt like the two of them were conspiring. It was warm in the heat of the office. He pulled his collar open a little bit. He felt silly for it – there was nothing wrong with walking past Mr Harlow’s office. He couldn’t imagine what Frank was going to say, but it couldn’t be that bad.

‘And? Why is that important, Frank?’

‘There was quite a heated argument going on inside. I couldn’t make out the voices at first.’

‘At first? You mean you stayed to listen?’

‘Well, of course. Wouldn’t you?’

‘No, absolutely not.’ Joe didn’t even hesitate. ‘What business is it of mine, what Mr Harlow may or may not be arguing about? Or yours for that matter.’

Despite the outburst, it brought to mind the time he had stood at the bottom of the stairs. On that occasion he had lingered too long, trying to listen to what his father and brother were discussing. That was none of his business either but it hadn’t stopped him then. He tried to convince himself that because it was family it was different, but he knew he was lying to himself.

‘Oh, will you take that rod out of your backside for one minute and just listen?’

‘Wha—’

‘Don’t forget you’re the one that asked me what I knew.’

‘Yes, but—’

Frank wasn’t listening and just kept talking. ‘As I said before, Harlow was having a big old argument. Or, should I say, someone was shouting at him. It was more the other chap, thinking about it, but that’s not the point.’

‘Get to the point, Frank. Before he comes back and has another moan at you for not working.’

‘I’m trying to, but you keep having to have your say. Just like always.’ Frank sighed loudly, emphasising his frustration, before leaning in closer again and speaking in a quiet voice that only Joe could hear. ‘I think it had something to do with that idiot Barnes.’

Joe tried to hide his shock but knocked his glass of water off the desk as he jumped back from Frank’s words.

‘Damn,’ he said, under his breath.

The water had spilled over some of his papers and he jumped out of his seat in horror. He picked up the papers in one hand and held them over the floor hoping the water would run off.

‘Oops,’ Frank said, not caring about the papers, or what might be written on them. Joe thought he could probably salvage them, but it would take some extra work. He picked up the now empty glass with his other hand, thankful that it hadn’t shattered, and placed it upright on the desk. He then carefully pinned the damp sheets to the partition on his desk, clearing a space underneath them where the residual water might pool. He would find a cloth later, it was too late now. He set back down again, and self-consciously tidied the rest of his papers, attributing the accident to his lack of organisation, though his desk was a far cry from the state of Frank’s.

‘So, where was I?’ Frank said, picking up the conversation and determined to ignore Joe’s accident. ‘Ah yes, why Harlow’s in a bit of an old grump. Do you remember that article that Barnes penned before he left? You edited it, I think.’

Joe could only nod in reply. His mouth had gone dry and he longed for the glass of water that he had spilt on the table. He swallowed and his tongue felt like paper.

‘You know the one, something about whether the war was just and all that rubbish. Just your kind of thing.’

‘Go on,’ Joe said, quietly, trying to pretend that he was eager for the rest of the story. ‘What about it?’

‘I’m coming to that. The other voice I could hear must have been the owner’s, and whew, he did not sound happy at all.’

‘How did you know it was the owner?’

‘Well, he said that we have to “support our brave men and boys”.’ Frank put on an air of superiority and sat taller in his chair as he said it, as if talking down at Joe, who resisted the urge to laugh. ‘So, it must have been him. I can put two and two together and get four, you know.’

‘All right, Frank. I didn’t mean any disrespect.’

‘He was pretty angry himself. Probably could have heard him from here if you was listening. I think he said that Harlow would have to fire the man that wrote it.’

‘You think?’ Joe felt his throat constrict again.

‘Yeah, well, his door’s pretty thick, isn’t it? Bit like him!’ He laughed again and then looked around to see if he had been heard. ‘Definitely heard something like that. Harlow tried to say he wouldn’t do it, but the owner raised his voice again. I heard something break.’

Joe felt incredibly guilty and, worst of all, sorry for Mr Harlow. He was a decent man and didn’t deserve the trouble that Joe had got him in. Still, he couldn’t come clean, otherwise Mr Harlow would have no choice but to let him go. Then what would he do? With the war he might find some other work that other men had left, but without a good reference and a sacking hanging over him that was unlikely. There was also the fact that even though he had done wrong, he was still in the best place to have an influence on the war and to help people realise what it was costing them.

‘Then he flung the door open and rushed out,’ Frank carried on. ‘He nearly bumped into me on his way out, but because he was in such a state he didn’t really notice. It gave me a chance to pretend I was just walkin’ past. Harlow just glanced my way as he closed the door. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but after seeing him before… he must have known I overheard.’

Frank was being uncharacte‌ristically sheepish.

‘You don’t think he thinks that I… do you?’

‘What? I asked you earlier what you’ve done now.’

‘I ain’t done nothing, I told you that.’

Joe was joking, trying to take his mind off his fear, but Frank was no longer in the mood. It seemed that even Frank’s moods could change as quickly as his.

‘I meant, do you think he thinks I wrote it? Me?’

‘No!’ Joe denied it more forcefully than he had intended, and Frank jumped back in his seat. ‘I mean, why would he? Albert Barnes wrote that article. You know he did. Why would he think otherwise?’

He was feeling desperate now and his words came out quickly. Frank didn’t seem to notice.

‘Yeah, but well, he’s disappeared, hasn’t he? He’s gone off to the war. Why write an article saying we shouldn’t fight and then go fight? Something’s not right about that.’

‘Could be he just wanted to question it and then decided that it was what he needed to do after all?’

He felt horrible about lying to Frank, but also that he now seemed to be condoning the acts of war. He was ashamed of himself. Ever since he had messed around with Albert’s article he had felt ashamed. It had been a moment of madness, well intentioned, but madness all the same.

‘Harlow can’t think it was me, he knows I’m off too. Better sooner rather than later, I think. Before I get pushed.’

Joe was glad that Frank was too self-involved to suspect that it might have been him that had written the article. He didn’t have anything else to say, so just patted Frank on the back as he stared into the middle distance.

After a few seconds the wheezing sound of Mr Harlow was back as he walked past.

‘I thought I told you two to get back to work. Don’t make me tell you again,’ he said as he disappeared off out of the main office.