Before he became Station Manager, Josh had been Watch Manager here. At the time, he’d been the youngest one the station had ever had. Then, at forty-four, he moved up and left a space behind him.
And a chance for me to move up to watch manager.
I still remember the interview panel. The questions. The careful way some people said things without saying them.
Different background.
Different culture.
Big adjustment from Manchester.
Nobody said woman.
Nobody needed to.
Josh had sat in those meetings and pushed anyway.
Not because he wanted to prove a point or make history. He just kept repeating the same annoying sentence until people ran out of arguments.
She’s the best candidate.
I got the job.
The first female watch manager in county history.
Which sounds much more glamorous than twenty years of shifts, exams and occasionally smelling faintly of smoke at family events.
I’ve never forgotten that he put his reputation behind me before I’d had the chance to prove him right.
So when Josh says I’m not imagining something, I know I’m not imagining it.
Josh takes another sip of tea and glances at the article.
Then he sets his mug down and says, carefully enough that I know he’s thought about this before opening his mouth, “I don’t think we should leave this.” Josh shrugs.
“I think I should call the editor.”
Josh isn’t somebody who goes looking for arguments. He’ll have difficult conversations if they need having, but he doesn’t enjoy them and he definitely doesn’t collect them recreationally.
I fold my arms.
“To complain?”
His expression stays neutral.
“To talk.”
I narrow my eyes.
Amanda makes a suspicious choking noise into her tea.
Josh ignores both of us.
“I think somebody should explain why this article isn’t as neutral as they probably think it is.”
I glance at the paper.
He adds, quieter this time, “But I’m not going to steamroll you.”
