Goodbye for Now

by M. J. Hollows

  ‘What could I do?’ he said, wincing at the petulant tone. ‘I’ll take whatever punishment Mr Harlow has to offer me, but I’m not looking fondly forward to Albert returning. I’m sorry for dragging you into it.’

  ‘There was no need for anyone to behave like that. I’m sure you apologised. I’m not sure that I would have done any differently, in your shoes. In fact, I rather admire you for it.’

  He nodded, not quite sure what to say, fighting the smile at the corner of his lips. She continued, and he was already fond of her warm, energetic voice.

  ‘I think that I would have put my name on it though. Oh, well. I’m sure that when he gets back from the war all will be forgotten. Although I’m after his job…’

  She smiled, to show that she wasn’t serious, and he laughed a deep booming laugh he didn’t know he was capable of. It felt good.

  ‘So I’m not the only despicable creature around here?’ he said, through laughs.

  ‘I guess not.’

  The presses were working away, as they walked down. The mechanical clattering was louder here, almost overbearing, and they had to talk a little louder to be heard. The air was thick with the smell of oils, paper and ink.

  ‘So why is it that you want a job?’

  She hesitated for a moment, unsure.

  ‘Well, it’s simple, I suppose. I wanted to make sure I got in before someone else did. With all the men off to war, women are going to be needed.’

  It was such an intelligent answer. He was growing fonder of her by the minute.

  ‘I would much rather be in a position where I can make a difference,’ she continued. ‘If I can, that is. Wouldn’t this be exactly the kind of place where one could keep their ear to the ground on current affairs?’

  He nodded; before joining the Daily Post, he’d had a very similar thought.

  Walking past the presses, they glanced at the machinery as they went. Anne showed vague interest and said hello to some of the workers as they showed interest in her. Joe didn’t attempt to describe anything, not knowing himself what each section did. There were printers and there were typesetters, big mechanical blocks that needed careful management and constant attention. That was all he knew.

  It felt good to get the issue with Barnes off his chest, out in the open. He had considered telling Mr Harlow, but he either wouldn’t care or wouldn’t understand, and Joe would continue to feel dreadful. Though he still had the wait for Barnes’ return hanging over him, he felt better for having told Anne. In a way it was good that she had seen what had happened at the station. Something occurred to him.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ he said. ‘You didn’t say why you were at the station. You weren’t travelling anywhere. You wouldn’t need a job if you were. You said earlier that you came back to see if I was all right.’ His heart sank. ‘Were you seeing your man off to war?’

  She blushed. Joe thought the worst. Anne had been a welcome breath of fresh air, but now it seemed he had got the wrong idea. He cursed himself again and returned to feeling sorry for himself.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Wallace. It was rude of me to ask. It’s none of my business. Forget I said a word.’ He walked off to show her the rest of the building, moving out of the oily stench of the press floor. She caught up with him.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Joe. I don’t mind you asking questions. And it’s “Anne”.’

  She flashed a smile at him, but this time he didn’t feel as warm as before. He did feel silly. He always felt silly, just for being the kind of person he was. For always thinking about other people and worrying about them. He was a silly man, he had always felt that way.

  She grabbed his arm and eased him to a stop.

  ‘If you must know,’ she said, ‘it wasn’t anything half as romantic as that.’

  He stopped to listen.

  ‘Now you’re going to think me silly.’

  She hadn’t stop smiling even though he had just been rude to her. The situation was growing more awkward. This time she blushed again and waited for him to answer.

  ‘I would never judge you, Anne.’

  ‘You’re kind to say so, Joe, but I think you might. The other girls… women I was with, well… it was their idea. They wanted to go down to the station and, well, you know what friends are like, when they suggest something you just tag along.’

  He nodded, agreeing without reference. The only friends he had were few and far between, and they never did anything on a whim. He wasn’t a natural follower.

  ‘Well, my friend Sarah, the blonde – the others think of her as our sort of leader – she is always suggesting we do this and do that. Well, she had heard that the soldiers were leaving Liverpool on that day, going off to fight.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Oh, you’re just going to think I’m some silly girl.’

  ‘I won’t.’ He urged her to continue.

  ‘As we weren’t doing anything important, on account of having no jobs or family, she decided that we should go down to Lime Street and just “see them”. What exactly she was planning to do when we got there I have no idea. Perhaps she thought she could get herself a man. Though as they’re going off to war that probably wasn’t the brightest of ideas. She said she “likes a man in uniform”. I guess I was just dragged along by the excitement of it all.’

  Joe laughed another deep laugh, and a man working at the presses jumped up in shock, which only made him laugh the harder.

  ‘See, I knew you’d think I was silly,’ she said and blushed again, the red bringing warmth to her pale cheeks.

  ‘I don’t.’ He had to force the words out between laughs. ‘I don’t. I mean I think the fact that you went to have a look at the soldiers is amusing, but I don’t think you’re silly. Actually, I think it’s quite endearing. I was beginning to think you were all serious like me and only cared about questions.’ He laughed again and smiled to show he was joking. ‘I was worried that you may be waiting on your man to return from the war. Now I know that there is much more to you than that.’

  Her cheeks were still red and there was now a hint of repressed anger to her eyes, and Joe felt guilty for laughing.

  ‘Would you have been upset if I was waiting for a man?’ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

  Joe wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly. Once again, it wasn’t something he had expected her to say. Suddenly, it felt like they were on a playground bashfully glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes, far away from the adult concerns of life and war.

  Anne even stood awkwardly, trying not to meet his eyes. He thought he had better say something before she looked even more uncomfortable.

  ‘I think that I… that that would be a little presumptuous,’ he stammered.

  It wasn’t what he had wanted to say, but at least he had managed to say something.

  ‘Usually, I would be annoyed if a man asked me such a question. It is none of your business. But there is something about you, Joe. I don’t know what it is, but I will excuse you this time.’

  She smiled again and everything felt all right with the world.

  ‘This time,’ was all she said. All she needed to say. The words and the smile were enough to calm his nerves. She took his hand in hers and led him away. ‘Why don’t you show me the rest of the building and find me a desk. It’s hot and stinks to high heaven in here.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said as they walked off. Her hand felt warm and comfortable in his.

  Chapter 15

  George and Tom reported for training in the field next to their new camp. For the first time since joining the regiment in August, Canterbury had given the King’s Rifles a proper field on which to train.

  It was a crisp Monday morning, the autumn sun peeking its way through a group of clouds and evaporating the dew on the ground. In the new wooden huts they had been given, a few men who had overslept were being rudely awaked. They all turned out in full kit for the first time, even if some of it didn’t fit properly and it was itchy as he
ll. Every man had a rifle and they finally looked like soldiers.

  ‘Right, men. Line up along the tree line here.’ Corporal Campbell waved them into place, rushing along the group of men and pushing some of them where they needed to go. ‘Stand to attention. Come on, now. No, better than that, stick your chests out. Make like your old mums are watching. I’ve bloody told you enough times, see?’

  Tom grinned at George, and he had to stifle a laugh. Campbell walked past them. ‘Better, better,’ he said, shouting for all to hear even though his section of men was only a few metres across, stood between the trees. There were other sections dotted around the park, each with an officer of their own. Some old men who had squeezed into their old uniforms were busy organising men around the park and barking orders as if they had never retired. The group nearest to George’s had a retired captain with a series of medals pinned to his chest and a swagger stick clenched firmly under one arm, walking up and down the line of men shouting with a voice that was clearly past its prime. The Corporal was preferable to that old man; he was closer to them in age, not a toff, and would presumably be going out with them to Europe. Whenever that was.

  ‘Right, men. Enough dilly-dallying. You, there. Stand to attention.’

  The shout brought George back to attention and he snapped his view forward to the Corporal, but the command wasn’t aimed at him. It was shouted at a scrawny, young man stood next to George in the line. George had seen him about the place but had not spoken to him before. He looked even younger than George. If boys like him were signing up then no one would suspect George.

  Panic pulled at his stomach. If they found out his real age then he would be left at home while the older boys like Tom shipped out. He puffed his chest out and forced the fear down, willing confidence.

  He heard a voice in the line behind him but didn’t quite catch what it said. It was bound to be something crude and there was a small grumble of chuckling from the men around them. Campbell’s head shot in the direction of the laughter, and he stomped over to them. George forced his gaze forward.

  ‘P’raps you’re wondering why this company is being led by a mere Corporal,’ the man said as he walked along the line. ‘P’raps you’re too stupid to have even noticed.

  ‘Well, let me tell you this. For starters, I’m not just some bleedin’ Corporal, wet behind the ears. I’m not a fresh-faced Lieutenant straight out of officer trainin’.’

  Some of the men snickered, and he stopped in his tracks to glare at them.

  ‘No sir-ee, I’ve seen more sights and more combats that you can even count on your bloody fingers.’ He resumed his pacing.

  ‘No, you see, the staff wallahs were not expecting so many of you layabouts to sign up. They had no idea that any of you had a bloody inkling of martial pride in you.’ The Corporal stopped dead centre and put on a show of appraising them. George had heard his father use the army slang for someone in charge, but he was sure the others would be confused. ‘And, looking at you, I’m starting to agree with them.’ He shouted the last line even louder.

  ‘So they had to drag the likes of me from a well-deserved leave to babysit you bloody fools.

  ‘You might think it’s unfair that you got me, and I might think what did I do to deserve you lot, but let me tell you; we haven’t even bloody started yet.

  ‘You will address me as “sah!” and stamp your heel just as you would for any other officer. Failure to do so will result in punishment. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sah!’ the platoon replied.

  Campbell nodded and resumed his pacing, closer to the line before. As he walked past, George could smell the staleness of his breath. It was like the man had been eating nothing but meat for weeks.

  ‘What this means is, that I’m going to need some section leaders, sharpish.’

  He stopped in front of one man and stared him down. George could just about see from where he was, but the man seemed to bend backwards from the Corporal despite trying to stand firm. The Corporal started walking again, and George’s eyes shot forwards. He hoped Campbell hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Right, now. Time to drill.’ The Corporal moved aside. ‘Anyone who falls behind will be punished. Anyone stopping to help another man will be punished. Any man refusing to drill will be punished and sent home as quickly as you can say “no”.’ With this he smacked one hand into the other, then put his face close to the nearest man before continuing. ‘Punishment will be in the form of more drill and then I will personally find you the most horrible task army life can give you and make sure you do it.’ He turned away. ‘I bet you all thought this would be easy didn’t you? Take the King’s shilling, lounge around in uniform making the girls swoon and then home for tea. Well, it’s not. Army life is all about discipline. I’ve been lumped with you useless lot and I’m going to bloody well make sure that I mould you into something approaching a competent unit. We’re going to show those other sections what we can do and go to twice the lengths they will. When they get tired, that’s only halfway for us. Do I make myself clear?’

  There was a grumble from the section.

  ‘What’s that? I said, do I make myself clear? Answer me properly, soldiers!’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ the men answered in a close unison with only a few voices falling behind and mumbling their assent.

  ‘Now get running.’

  ‘We’re going to have to watch out for him,’ Tom said to George as he kept pace alongside him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ George was trying to focus as much as possible on running. Campbell was shouting orders at the men to keep up and to push themselves harder.

  ‘He’s got something to prove, trust me. With the retired bigwigs around, he’s aiming for a promotion,’ Tom puffed. ‘And we’re just the tool he needs to get it.’

  ‘I get you.’

  ‘Just be careful, if any of us get in his way who knows what’ll happen.’

  ‘All right, all right.’

  Tom was quiet for a few more moments.

  ‘When do you think they’ll send us to France?’

  George thought if Tom put more effort into running than talking then he wouldn’t keep stumbling over the uneven ground. He just wanted to get to the end of the run and talk about it then.

  ‘I don’t know. Just run, will you?’

  Tom gave George a sideways glance and shut up.

  *

  George noticed the scrawny boy the other side of him dropping behind. It was getting worse and he was likely to trip the man behind.

  ‘Come on,’ George whispered. It came out louder than he expected, and the boy flinched. He was still drifting behind.

  ‘Come on,’ George said again, willing the boy forward.

  ‘I can’t!’ he replied, exasperated, his voice weak and phlegmy, almost out of breath. He stumbled, about to break the line. George only had a second to think. He grabbed the boy by his left arm, using his strength to right him and pull him along.

  ‘I have you!’ he screamed at the boy, his own strength beginning to falter. ‘You can do this, come on. We’re almost there.’

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Focus on the end, look, you’re almost done.’

  The boy was back in line now, just.

  George let go and the boy stumbled. Instinctively, he reached out to grab him again, but the boy pushed his arm away and charged ahead towards the finishing hut. He put his hands on his knees and puffed in great lungfuls of air as if he would never breathe again, before collapsing to the ground in a heap. The line reached him a few seconds later and came to a rest.

  Corporal Campbell walked over and gave the boy a kick in the back to see if he was still breathing. The boy whimpered.

  ‘What did I say would happen if you broke formation?’

  The heap on the floor mumbled something, and Campbell gave him another kick.

  ‘What’s that, soldier?’

  George went to stop the Corporal from his abuse, but Tom grabbed his arm, holding him
back. ‘It’s not worth it, George, you’ll be on a charge before we’ve even started. Let him get it out of his system.’

  The boy had got to his feet now and was apologising to the Corporal.

  ‘Once more round the park for you, and then you can practise digging a trench.’

  The boy hesitated, but a bark from Campbell sent him on his slow, sloping way. He then turned to George. ‘I saw what you did back there, soldier.’ George puffed up his chest. ‘I won’t stand for that kind of thing, soldier. Not in my section. If you help him, I’ll never make a soldier out of him. He’s gotta suffer on his own, is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ George’s voice was a grudging mumble.

  ‘And I’ll have more respect out of you too, soldier.’

  George repeated his response, louder.

  ‘You’d best get on after your little friend. He’s got a head start on you.’

  Accepting his fate, he started jogging again, sweat already making his clothes wet through. During the short rest, the sweat had cooled in the fabric. It chafed as he ran off in pursuit.

  When they got back the boys were exhausted, trying to get air into their lungs. The boy bent over, but George, standing up to open his lungs, gestured for him to do the same.

  Both moved to a pile of boxes with a British Army stamp. Inside, laid neatly in rows, were various items, including an entrenching tool. George handed one to the boy. They begun digging and the spade-like tool was soon covered in thick mud and silt.

  ‘What’s your name?’ George asked, now he had air in his lungs.

  The boy looked up at George and hesitated. ‘Fred…’ he said, his voice a faint whisper through wracking breaths. ‘Fred Madeley.’

  ‘George,’ he replied.

  ‘Uh, nice to meet you,’ Fred said, and went to shake George’s hand, but thought better of it. ‘Thanks for your help back there. I thought I was going to die, the pain in my chest was so strong. But you were right, I ran through it.’