55 A compromise for comfort

As the state of Joe-Nathan’s appearance on the day that Charlie had shaved his head became apparent, Chloe’s face moved through a number of expressions as she first battled to be right about her assessment of Mean Charlie, and then started to struggle to keep that conviction alive.

‘Oh, look, I can show you!’ Pip picked up her phone again and started scrolling. ‘Owen forwarded a video on WhatsApp to a few people and I got sent it too. I guess no one showed it to you, Chloe, because, well, y’know.’

‘What? Because you mean I might have actually done something about it?’ Chloe sounded defeated, but she took Pip’s phone and shook her head as she watched the clip of Joe standing by his locker. The footage was a bit wobbly but there was the unmistakable sound of Owen sniggering. Joe stood pitifully beside his locker door, glancing sideways as though he thought Owen might be trying to film something other than himself. The video image turned to portrait as it got closer to Joe, so that he was more easily visible from head to foot: The pedal-pushers, the shiny, black, formal shoes, and then, ever nearer, a close-up of Joe’s DIY haircut. Chloe’s chin crumpled as she watched Joe smile nervously into Owen’s camera, as if he were reluctantly posing for a family photo, rather than being humiliated for the way that he looked. And then the extreme close-up of Joe’s hair: strands of it still long in places, short in others, painfully close to the scalp above his ears, as if it had been shaved with a wet razor (that part of his scalp was still visible even now). Just before the video ended, Chloe heard Owen say, ‘Wait till Charlie sees this, oh man. He’s gunna piss himself.’

‘But he didn’t piss himself, did he?’ said Pip, as she took her phone back. ‘He got hold of Joe before anyone else could tease him, and shaved it all off.’

Chloe stared at Joe, at how good his haircut actually looked, or, at least, how much better it looked than in the video she’d just witnessed.

‘Oh fuck,’ she said, and closed her eyes.

‘That reminds me,’ said Joe, and he opened his satchel, which was on the seat beside him. ‘I made this for you.’

Chloe felt small. She felt as though she had read a book, missed an important chapter and made her assumptions without that missing piece of information. She held out her hand and took the box from Joe without registering it. She turned it in her hands and ran her thumbs over the smooth surfaces of wood. She read the inscription without really seeing it, or comprehending it. She looked at the box, but all she could see was the view in her mind’s eye: Joe in the store-room, tears streaking his face, a discarded shaver on the floor, an image of herself, jumping on Charlie’s back, calling him a bully.

So self-righteous, so knowing and apparently so fucking wrong. And yet she had seen Charlie be mean to Joe with her own eyes, it hurt her to hear the way he spoke to him. What would motivate a person – even a person like Charlie – to forcibly and privately shave someone’s head. If he had wanted to help, why hadn’t he taken him to a barber shop, or given him a hat? Except that Joe would not have liked those options either. What could possibly be wrong with a person that they think that’s an okay way to behave?

Charlie was mean, Chloe still did not doubt that. But what bothered her was the fact that in his own twisted way he did seem to have actually tried to help Joe, despite the fact that it was technically assault. She didn’t think she was entirely wrong about Charlie, and yet… and yet right now, she was confused and she hated herself.

‘Do you like it?’ Joe’s question seemed to come from so far away that Chloe had no notion that anyone was talking to her.

‘Chloe?’ said Pip, and again, to Chloe, the voice sounded far away, but it was her name, so awareness wriggled to the surface like bubbles released from under a rock and she found herself firmly at the table in the pub once more.

‘Huh?’ She said.

‘Do you like it?’ Joe said again.

Chloe looked down at the box as if for the first time. There was a slot in the top for money and – with his wood-burning pen – Joe had inscribed on the side:

Pay HERE

!*@#

CHLOE’S SWEAR BOX

The wood was pale and soft, and perfect. Everything was simple and in-line with no rough edges and no uneven joins.

‘You made this for me?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Joe.

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘But I don’t deserve it.’

‘But it is useful,’ said Joe.

Chloe set the wooden box on the table and ran her finger over it. When she spoke, her gaze remained on the box, as if she were addressing it rather than Joe. ‘How is Charlie?’ she said.

Joe didn’t answer and Chloe raised her eyes to meet his.

‘How is he?’ she repeated.

‘He is…’ Joe didn’t know how to answer the question, but Chloe waited and finally he said, ‘He is out of his place.’

‘What?’

‘Out of place. Not where he is supposed to be. It makes me feel uncomfortable.’

‘But how does he feel about it?’ Chloe persisted.

‘I do not know,’ said Joe, because that was the truth. He only knew how he himself felt about it. How could he know how Charlie felt, if Charlie hadn’t told him?

Chloe suddenly sat very upright and craned her neck to look round the pub. ‘Hugo!’ she shouted, and Hugo looked over and waved. ‘Come here!’ He made some sort of apology to the person he was standing with, placing his hand on their arm, before negotiating his way through the people talking in little groups.

He sat himself down heavily next to Joe and sighed as if he’d run here. He was drinking something clear in a short glass with a very thin short straw that he chased round the glass with his mouth until he found it and took a long sip.

‘It’s a long time since I had a Friday afternoon off.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Janet,’ he said, and they clinked their glasses. Joe was a little on the drag with the gesture. Hugo found his straw again, a little easier this time, and took another long sip.

‘Hugo?’ Chloe said. ‘Is it possible for Charlie to get his job back?’

‘What?’ Hugo loosened his lips on his straw, and it momentarily stuck there before dropping back into the glass. ‘I thought you were the one keen to see him gone.’

‘I was, but I might have got my wires crossed.’ Chloe grimaced and held her hands together as if in prayer.

‘Well, the short answer is no, I’m afraid. He’s already been replaced. There are no hours for Charlie.’

Joe turned his hand over and looked at his palms. His breathing became audible and the other three looked at him. ‘No hours for Charlie. No time. No place,’ he said.

‘Charlie will be alright, Joe,’ said Pip. ‘He’s strong.’

‘That’s true,’ said Hugo, and he and Pip shared a look.

Joe closed his eyes and saw Charlie’s body lurch towards him as he was kicked in the back. With his eyes still closed, Joe said, ‘If I give you some of my hours, will you give them to Charlie?’ As the words left his lips, Joe’s breathing became rapid. His routine would be changed if he gave away his hours, but then Charlie would be at work and that would make Joe feel better. It was a compromise for comfort.

‘No,’ said Chloe. ‘Not you, Joe. I’ll give up mine. Hugo. I’ll go part-time and do a job-share with Charlie.’

‘No can do,’ said Hugo. ‘It’s not just that he’s been replaced, but that he’s got a complaint of assault and bullying against him. The Compass Store can’t possibly employ him until the complaint has been reviewed, and only then if the accusation is revoked.’

‘We revoke it,’ said Chloe.

Hugo frowned and shook his head. ‘Okay, listen. I don’t know what’s going on here, but this is not the place to discuss this, and even if it were, things can’t happen as quickly as you seem to think they can. For example, I can’t simply ring HR and revoke the complaint. There’s a process to go through, which will take time.’

Chloe rested her head in her hands and Joe began lining up the coasters on the table.

‘Would it be okay if Charlie joined our team for quiz night?’ Pip said. ‘I mean, if he wants to.’

Chloe glanced up at Hugo and Joe’s hands hovered over the coasters. Hugo looked around at all of them, like children who had been denied what they really wanted and were now asking for something small; anything to feel like they’d won.

Hugo said, ‘If you want him there, then I don’t see why not.’