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
