LITMIR.BIZ

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a rich family on the hill that looked down on them all. He expected to be one of Fenning’s brightest and best, but really, he wasn’t.

      ‘I remember it, Jimmy… James.’ He caught himself. ‘We had some good years at that school. Before I had to leave.’

      ‘I never really did understand why you had to leave.’

      Joe nodded. He hadn’t had time to tell anyone why he was leaving or where he was going to. He had only been there by the kindness of his Uncle Stephen who, because he had no children of his own, had decided to pay for Joe’s education. That was until his younger siblings had needed schooling. His uncle simply couldn’t pay for them all and so Joe had had to leave. After all, he had learnt all he needed to know, hadn’t he? The local school would be fine for the rest of his education. ‘We couldn’t afford it, James.’

      ‘Oh, that is rum.’ He pushed his lips out and dropped his head. Joe wasn’t sure if Jimmy was genuinely upset, or just humouring him.

      ‘Don’t frown, James,’ Joe said, mimicking old Fenning. ‘I did all right.’

      Jimmy smiled again. Joe missed old Fenning. The man was a bright spark in a dark, cruel world and had always given Joe so much to think about. The master at his next school had been unkind and unfair. Joe had withdrawn and found solace in books. He would have rather been at home, reading. Perhaps Jimmy had become Fenning’s best student after Joe had left.

      Jimmy shuffled, as the shopkeeper gave an occasional huff, making it clear that he wanted them gone. ‘What brings you here in particular, Joe?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Oh,’ he continued before Joe answered. He pointed to the newspaper that Joe was holding. ‘I found a few old issues of that in Fenning’s room once.’

      ‘This?’ He held up the paper. ‘Fenning encouraged me to read it when I was at school, to learn about all walks of life he used to say. It’s also interesting research for my newspaper work. I had no idea Fenning read it at the school.’ Reading the newspaper would have been quite dangerous at such a school. He had only ever mentioned it in hushed tones.

      ‘Oh yes, we found all sorts of things after you left. Best not to dishonour his memory with that sort of discussion though, may he rest in peace.’ Jimmy sighed.

      He didn’t hear what Jimmy said next. He had never found out what had happened to Fenning after Joe had left the school. It had seemed like a different life. He wiped his eye with a handkerchief, passing it off as if he were wiping his nose. He didn’t want to think of the old, kind teacher passing away. He wondered how it had happened, but he didn’t dare ask.

      ‘We could discuss our old school days and old Fenning sometime while having a drink,’ Jimmy said, beaming at him.

      Joe hesitated. ‘I don’t know, Jimmy. Sorry… James.’

      Jimmy’s eyes dropped to the floor. ‘It would be fine to catch up. If you are busy, we could arrange a better time.’

      ‘You’re right. Why don’t you give me your address, and when I’ve time, I’ll be in touch.’

      ‘Excellent. Just one second.’ He patted his pockets. ‘Here, do you have a pencil and some paper I could borrow?’ The shopkeeper scowled as handed him a small notepad and a worn pencil. A few seconds later, Jimmy handed Joe a piece of paper. An address in Woolton. Joe could only imagine the large houses with their own estates, a good distance from their nearest neighbours.

      ‘You know the area?’ Jimmy asked.

      Joe nodded.

      ‘Good! Do pop by whenever you get a moment, won’t you?’

      ‘I’ll try,’ Joe said, cramming the piece of paper into his coat pocket.

      ‘Whenever you get a spare second, we would love to see you up at the house. Just knock on the door and the man will let you in. That is whenever – the newspaper, was it? – whenever they let you free for socialising.’

      Joe nodded again. He wasn’t really listening. Jimmy brought back painful memories of a life he didn’t really care for. Although he wanted to make more of himself, he didn’t agree with how families like the Sutcliffes lived.

      ‘What newspaper was it that you said you worked for?’

      Joe mentally cursed for having mentioned it. ‘Did I say newspaper?’ It was a poor dodge and he knew.

      ‘Yes, I’m sure you did.’ Jimmy’s smile didn’t falter.

      ‘That’s right. Well, I er—’

      At that moment, the welcome-bell jingled as the door opened and an older man, dressed in a tweed jacket, came into the shop. ‘Good morning, Doctor,’ the shopkeeper said. Joe thought he had been saved by the distraction, but Jimmy was still waiting.

      ‘I’m a sub-editor for the Daily Post, James,’ he finally conceded. Jimmy moved a fraction closer. ‘It’s not much, but it can be interesting, and it gives me a chance to write from time to time.’

      ‘Fascinating,’ Jimmy agreed, biting his lip in a thoughtful expression. ‘I wonder—’

      ‘I always enjoyed writing, I suppose.’ If he could keep talking, he hoped Jimmy would get bored and have to leave. ‘There were no jobs available when I started, I had to work my way up from the bottom. I’ll work my way up to a top journalist one day. I’ve already talked to the editor about it.’

      Jimmy was biting his lip, while scratching his head. Joe tried to gauge Jimmy’s thoughts, but he hadn’t seen Jimmy in so long, he didn’t really know the man. The shopkeeper moved past them, tidying the shelves. He stopped in between newspapers to give the two men a very pointed stare, which he held for a few seconds, before returning to his work. He reorganised some magazines that the newcomer had disturbed. ‘We should leave,’ Joe said.

      ‘I think that you would be interested in these.’ Jimmy pulled out a wad of paper from his jacket and pushed them at Joe. They were a number of identical pamphlets, printed on a light, expensive brown paper. At the top of the page were the words ‘Stop the War To-Day!’ in block capitals. Joe sighed. Why would Jimmy be pushing these pamphlets on people? What was the war to him?

      ‘You don’t like them?’ Jimmy asked. ‘They are just the beginning, I asked for some larger prints to post on walls.’

      ‘Why?’ was all Joe could manage.

      ‘Why?’ A frown crossed Jimmy’s brow. ‘Because the war needs to be stopped before it even starts. It’s not right. Britain should have nothing to do with it.’

      ‘Right, that’s enough of this. I told you I don’t want nothing to do with this rubbish.’ The shopkeeper stormed over to them and opened the door, politeness giving way to frustration. ‘Out with you. Go on.’ The door slammed behind them. A young woman was examining the vegetables on the greengrocer’s stand. The doctor left the newsagent’s and walked away. A horse cart rattled past, a cacophony of hooves and metal-clad wheels on the cobbles.

      ‘You have to be careful, James. Protesting the war could see you in prison.’

      ‘Yes I know, but—’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. You won’t stop the war with these.’ He shoved the pamphlets back into Jimmy’s unresisting hands. ‘People aren’t going to listen to these. They’ll either ignore them or be so disgusted with the sentiment that they will cause you trouble.’

      ‘I thought you might understand…’ Jimmy’s voice was childlike, a squeak. His face puffed under that tuft of a moustache.

      ‘I don’t understand. These leaflets will not help, and I don’t understand why you of all people would care. You will get arrested, or at best fined.’ He couldn’t help raising his voice.

      ‘Old Fenning…’

      ‘He wouldn’t have wanted this,’ Joe said. ‘This is an incitement to riot. You’re going to find

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