Harry Pt. 01

Burly Mr Reynolds, a former coalminer, came forward and said menacingly, "Look son, if you have barged you way in here on some pretext to worm out a story for your newspaper then..."

"I urged Jack to go forward to get a better picture, hoping it could help him win a national award."

Everyone was stunned.

"It was the professional thing to do and I thought, and I guess Jack did too, that the two guys grappling with the gunman had him under control."

Mrs Reynolds said, "Well I suppose you were acting with best intentions Harry."

Her husband barked, "Like hell he was; he sent Jack in there to die."

"That's an outrageous, blustering accusation Mr Reynolds. No way would I do that if I thought the risks were that high. Here take a look at this. I brought this rough proof with me in case I met an unsympathetic hearing from you lot."

The bristling Mr Reynolds snatched the photo and said, "What the hell is this?"

"We didn't use that photo. After Jack fell I could see I couldn't assist, as the chemist and a former Army nurse were attending him, and we published that photo, I grabbed his camera and went right up to photograph the two guys attempting to restrain the big guy and he broke partly free. He saw me with the camera and pointed his gun right at the left hand side of my chest. I was as close as eight feet away. He pulled the trigger and I remembered saying aloud, "Bang you're dead." But miraculously I heard the gun click and no explosion. He'd run out of bullets."

"Omigod." Mrs Reynolds said. "How could you have coped with all of this high drama and huge danger? What are you, twenty?"

"Eighteen Mrs Reynolds."

Jack's sister who looked about twenty said, "You acted with incredible bravery Harry. Back off dad and allow Harry to relay Jack's message."

"Thanks Jill."

"How is it you know my name?"

Harry ignored that and said, "Please sit Mrs Reynolds and Jill you hug her."

They sat and Harry said, "Jack looked up at me and eyes glazed said, 'I'm done for Harry. Please tell mom and dad and Jill I love them and always will'."

Mrs Reynolds and Jill were crying and Mr Reynolds smiled at Jack and said, "Go on son."

Harry sniffed, "I was aware I didn't have the skills to help Jack and then out of the blue came Mr Livingston the chemist and a former Army nurse who knelt beside him over Jack. I then rushed off to take more photographs and then raced back to the newspaper, knowing Jack was receiving aid and by then two ambulances had arrived."

"Oh Harry I'm very glad you gave me that message," Mrs Reynolds sobbed. "It brings me a little peace."

The clergyman said, "I think we should pray."

Harry used that interlude to slip away to rejoin Bert and Nick.

"Been chasing a nurse?" Nick joked.

"No I remembered something Jack said and thought his family might like to hear it."

"What Jack saying this was his first big news shoot?"

"No Nick. He wanted his family to know he loved them and always would."

"Jesus Harry, I'm sorry for teasing. You did a wonderful job today."

"Harry you certainly did," said editor Tony Bassett, walking up to join them. "It was a truly magnificent effort. You and Jack were ever so brave and we all are so proud of you. I phoned the chief surgeon; we have been pals since primary school. He told me infection if it takes hold or a blood clot could take Jack at any time but he's quite confident that Jack will pull through this. Jack being a competitive cyclist is superbly fit."

"Thank Christ for that," Nick sighed. "That kid put on a performance today that will lead to him becoming a great newspaper photographer if he survives this incident."

Bert said, "Amen."

Harry's father and older brother arrived looking for him. They'd first learned about the shooting on the 3:00 pm radio news and when the afternoon newspaper arrived they learned about the incident in much greater detail and were astounded Harry had played such a major part in the news coverage when he was only a cub reporter.

Robert Boone said, "Come on son, you look tuckered out. A good feed and a big sleep is what you need."

"Yes dad," Harry yawned but then a reporter and photographer from the morning newspaper The Telegraph arrived and Harry was delayed twenty minutes for an interview.

"Why this interest in me? We guys are in competition with you," Harry said.

The reporter grinned, "We have obtained a great picture, better than the photo you guys ran of Jack photographing the gunman who shot him. A street photographer had raced to the scene and got a magnificent photo of the gunman taking a bead on you and you standing no more than six feet away from him. You must have just taken a photo because the camera was down neck high and you look startled rather than afraid and the gunman has his crazed look on his face. It's a cracker of a picture and we purchased the rights to it and it will probably be used around the world."

Harry just yawned.

Just before 4:00 next morning Harry's father shook him awake with the best news possible.

"Come on, get dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital. Mrs Reynolds called saying Jack is awake and says he wants to chat. He's scared you'll think he let you down."

"Bloody hell dad," Harry said, jumping out of bed. "What's that guy on about? He behaved heroically."

* * *

Harry, the post-death stress making him feel his sixty-three years, enjoyed thinking back to those early times. He yawned and thought he should eat the salad but then had another thought and poured another couple of finger of whisky and allowed his mind to drift back.

* * *

In the hospital waiting room the chief reporter had told Harry to take the rest of the week off but Harry told Bert no way, the new reporter was due in next day and would be expecting Harry to team with her.

When Harry had arrived at work next morning everyone warmly greeted him and Brenda, fussing, brushed toast crumbs off his jacket.

Bert had reminded him any arrangement with the new reporter was off. "We don't have teaming units. It's too expensive and we expect reporters to learn by observing while they do menial assignments. Who on earth suggested she team with you?"

The managing editor came in through his side door and said, "I did Bert. This is my niece Amy Wiseman and I want her to have the best possible start as a newspaper reporter and want her to work alongside Jack because he's just been through that process and has learned a great deal."

"Yes of course Toby," Bert said stiffly. "I think it's a great idea."

"Well get started with the induction. This is the head of your department Amy, chief reporter Bert Spencer, a fine journalist. He served in the war in Korea and was decorated. He will be in charge of your welfare and formal training although it will be our hero Harry Boone who will show you the ropes."

Bert muttered, "Jack knows nothing about teaching but he's great on the job Amy. Observe him closely and you won't go wrong."

"I read last night's paper about Jack's exploits Mr Spencer..."

The editor said, "Amy call him Bert, I'm the only one on staff you need to address formerly."

"I read about Jack's exploits in the paper yesterday Bert and was amazed that he still managed to emerge from that frightening chaos to come back to base with his photographs and contribute to writing a story."

"That's what a reporter is trained to do Amy but it also takes grit and determination on his and er her part. Please don't refer to our esteem publication as a paper; it's a newspaper."

"Sorry sir."

"And please don't call me sir. We're not in the army."

Having watched the editor depart, Bert stood and said in a loud voice reaching all the thirty-eight journalists spread about in the big room, "Attention everyone, this is Amy... what's your surname girl?"

Amy whispered, "Wiseman, Lionel and Jocelyn Wiseman's daughter."

"Amy Wiseman, Lionel and Jocelyn Wiseman's daughter. All of you will know Major Wiseman has announced his intention to run for the mayoralty at the elections in two months' time. Amy makes history here today in becoming the first female to enter general reporting on this newspaper since it's establishment in 1886."

Everyone clapped and the wiry racing reporter, an ex jockey, called out, "Yes indeed a historic moment BERT."

With the emphasis on Bert, honorific titles were virtually abandoned amongst all staff in all departments at the Rutherford Times that day although it would be sometime before managers began calling even juniors on their team by their first name.

Amy had bypassed the usual duties of first-year cadets such as running messages, running 'copy' to the chief reporter's desk to the call of 'copy' from reporters rushing to complete an article required urgently by the chief sub-editor including late-breaking stories, doing the early morning calls, drawing the weather map, pasting in 'clips' of senior reporter's work into their personal scrapbooks and finding the chief sub-editor's lost packet of cigarettes (usually found in the trash can) and filling paste pots. And doing everything with Harry except going to the toilet with him.

Three weeks later Harry began dictating his articles for Amy to type.

It didn't surprise him that Amy arrived being a touch-typist. Practically nothing about Amy surprised him. She even had her older cousin find a girlfriend for him.

In typing Harry's articles, usually called 'stories', Amy quickly picked up the 'form' of an article that adhered to the newspaper's general 'style' in respect of construction and all stories should have include 'how, when, where and why' in the introduction. She quickly observed that the preferred style makes all news stories sound roughly the same if read aloud.

"Yes," said Harry, who regarded her as his 'associate' rather than his assistant. "It's a style devised to make all news stories quick reads for busy people and people who read to absorb knowledge and to eliminate flowery language. It is possible to still develop a personal style. I can read most articles produced in this newsroom and tell you who wrote it, although admittedly if it's a shipping story I'd automatically assume the shipping roundsman wrote that."

"Bullshit."

Harry grinned. He'd interviewed her father a couple of times and he was a stickler for formality and her mother was very active in women's affairs and was rather aloof at the meetings he'd attended where she presided. So it had been rather endearing to find the youngest daughter had a more relaxed style about her with perhaps this touch of naughtiness. If toughness was also to emerge, this girl could have it all. She already had brains, flair and presence. People particularly women were already phoning in and asking to speak to Miss Wiseman.

It was happening for her.

Amy arrived with a newspaper two weeks old and handed it to him and she held the office's marked copy where each afternoon before leaving the office Bert would mark every office-produced article in that newspaper with the writer's or contributors initials.

"Look at the front page and tell me who wrote those articles," she said and he said why and was told she wished to determine if he were a liar.

"Fair go 'A' (as he often called her) don't waste your time. If I say I can do something or I did something then it's true. I only bullshit when I tease."

"Please."

"No."

"It's part of my training."

Harry looked at her and waited for a sound explanation.

"Um it will teach me one of the skills I need to pick up."

He sighed and picked up the newspaper and scanning the intro (introduction) and perhaps only the first couple of pars (paragraphs) went through the first five pages rapidly until Amy said almost in awe, "That's enough. You are simply amazing."

"Yeah well let's do this job. Bert wants me to interview your mother about what she thinks about possibly becoming mayoress of the city. We published your father's backgrounder last Saturday along with articles on the two other contenders who also are vying for the position with Mayor Jones not seeking re-election."

"My mother won't wish to talk to you with me sitting beside you."

"Okay I'll wait outside. I had decided to get you to do the interview anyway."

"Harry!"

"Shut up Amy. I don't like females who bitch."

"You asshole."

Even Amy appeared shocked she'd said that. Then she giggled and Harry's sternness dissolved and he punched her affectionately on the arm and she flushed as if interpreting that as a sexual advance.

"Your breasts are getting bigger."

Her face turned scarlet but she just turned away, not telling him to shut up.

"Well grab your stuff. I'm not taking a pad and pencil."

She sighed.

"That's the girl. We'll make an ace reporter out of you yet."

Harry took a camera. His new pal in illustrations, Nick Smith, had handed him a new Nikon F-series single lens reflex camera and said he was assessing it for purchase. He showed Harry how to use it and said with a huge smile, "Jack is coming in today to visit us. He expects to get a medical clearance to resume work by the end of the month."

Amy's mother Jocelyn greeted Harry more than politely, in fact warmly.

"Ah Mr Boone. How lovely to meet you. I have seen you at meetings I attend. Amy talks to us about you over dinner almost breathlessly almost every day."

"Mum," Amy wailed.

"Amy is coming along very well indeed Mrs Wiseman. In fact our other cadets are being left in her wake," Harry said smoothly and could see Amy gaping at him.

"Oh I am so pleased. I thought with her enquiring mind and love of reading Amy would be well suited for journalism, starting off by getting a thorough grounding in newspaper journalism."

Harry seized the opportunity. "Indeed Mrs Wiseman. So Amy steps up another rung today. You are to be her first interview."

"Me?"

"Yes Mrs Wiseman. I have faith. Do you?"

"B-but my husband's election prospects?"

"Have faith Mrs Wiseman. I'll photograph you during the interview and will also keep watch on Amy. Remember this is not surgery."

"Omigod, Amy says you are funny and irrelevant. I see what she means."

"Mum!"'

"What dear? If you tell me anything and wish it kept confidential then say so. Mr Boone is a smart young man. He will accept you are entitled to your opinion."

When Amy placed her article in the copy box, Harry strolled over to the hard-nosed chief sub-editor who everyone knew had been a sub-editor on the Times in London.

"Hi Reginald."

"What do you want?"

"Dad says you're a good companion to take out fishing."

"Yeah and I could listen to him all day. A good bloke is your dad."

"Amy's first 100% Amy article is coming through. It's a interview for Saturday on the wife of one of the mayoral hopefuls."

"Christ you didn't get her to interview her own mum did you?"

"Think about it Reginald. Who better?"

"There you go again, pushing boundaries you young pup. Okay I'll sub it myself."

"What I want Reginald is for you to use my caption and reinstate my wording that Bert will have crossed out. It reads 'Newly recruited cadet reporter Amy Wiseman interviews her mother etc...' Nick has agreed to use the photo I took of Amy interviewing her mother. He had no option because Amy is in all the frames. I made sure of that. Oh remember Reginald what I want used written in that form it's not actually a byline that are banned on this conservative newspaper and also remember our illustrious editor is Amy's fond uncle."

"Fuck off you whippersnapper."

"Oh is that an example of modern English? Thanks for your cooperation mate.'

"And good day to you Harry. Your dad would have still taken me fishing even if you had complained about me being uncooperative."

"Yes probably Reginald but it sometimes pays to play safe doesn't it?"

On Friday Reginald ambled over with a page proof from next day's magazine section.

"You two might want to see this. Read it and hand it back before Bert returns."

Amy gaped, "You took that photo?"

"Yes, I'm not entirely useless."

That was ignored. She gasped, and I'm in it and my name is in the caption. By-lines are banned."

"Well yes but that will change one day when we are the last newspaper in the country not to allow bylines on worthy articles."

"But everyone will know I wrote that feature on my own mother."

"Yes and they'll read and conclude it's totally objective and probably no worse and probably better written than the other two profiles."

"Omigod, you do have faith in me," she said, punching his arm.

Harry felt his dick stir. Jesus she was still only seventeen. He must wait.

"When's your birthday?"

"Ten months away. Might you give me something?"

"Yeah if you remain likeable."

"Oooh."

There was a huge stir and some shouts as Nick Smith came in proudly escorting his now famous young photographer. Harry hurried over and people already gathering stood aside to let him through."

"Welcome home buddy."

It was too much for Jack who was still in a chest restraint but no longer a plaster cast.

Jack wept.

Nick hugged him and Brenda was weeping and even some of the guys were sniffing.

It was a moment that people who were there would long remember. Jack looked so thin, so pale... so vulnerable.

He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his jacket and said, "I'm putting on weight at last. My surgeon thinks if I continue to make progress I could be back here on light duties by the end of this month. Luckily for me apart from the rushing around, photography is light duties. Where's this new girl Harry kept talking about when visiting me.

"Amy," Harry called and people stood aside to let her come through.

"Cor you're a great looker," Jack said. "But can you write?"

"Asshole," she said pleasantly.

There was a moment's stunned silence and then Brenda began giggling and everyone roared in laughter, bringing the editor out of his office and he growled, "What's this a fun day picnic?"

People turned to go back to their desks and then Toby saw Jack.

"Jesus Jack, it's great to see you back. Come on everyone, three cheers for Jack. Hip-hip..."

The din in the huge room was almost deafening.

That Friday ended up being a momentous day for Harry. Although Jack still appeared frail he actually did look a little improved from when he'd gone to be with Jack's family last Sunday to await Jack's arrival home by ambulance. Everyone had been amazed that after coming out of the ambulance in his wheelchair, Jack had stood and then walked to his mom and hugged her.

Then that evening when Harry took his girlfriend Diane to the pictures (as movies were called in those days) and they'd sat near the back row and hugged and kissed as usual, she'd pulled his hugging hand down the top of her dress. Realizing he'd been given license, Harry wormed his hand in and touched the breast. His hand rolled over the stiff nipple and Diane panted into his ear, "Oh that's so heavenly."

Eh?

Harry fiddled some more and was fascinated that her panting increased and then he found it necessary to stop because she was now groaning and then a woman behind them hissed, "Really young man."

Harry wanted to bolt out of there but Diane held on to his hand and he calmed.

Diane drove them in her father's car on to an empty building site in Harry's street and asked him earnestly, "Do you know anything about copulation?"

"Only what we were taught about animals during biology at school."

"Me too but I have been talking to some of my girlfriends and it appears little different."

"Yeah I'd heard that too."

"I'd like you to try it on me."

"Okay."

"Promise me you'll marry me if I get pregnant?" said the 19-year old.

"Okay."

"I was told if you withdraw before you begin to drip semen that occurs before you really discharge, the girl should be safe for pregnancy but there's always the risk that pulling out early was too late."