M.J. Hollows - Goodbye for Now

‘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.