The Bus Driver. Part 4,

This is my attempt at moving a story on, here I have tried to consider the difficulties of an experienced person, who was successful in their career, taking on a new role and not finding it all going to plan. The tricky idea of this story, for me, is the relationship between the bus driver and the conductor. I have the end goal mapped out, but moving from A to B, is what I have attempted to start with this piece.

All comments welcome 🙂

—The First Shift—

Throughout her career, Agatha has worked directly with local politicians, law enforcement agencies, education boards, charities and a myriad of others, all to help those within her care. Some from the poorest and deprived parts of the country to support them and get them the help they needed.

For some reason this had no impact on her handing out bus tickets to the general public.

There were only a few times that Agatha got a bit muddled, one parent got upset when her darling little child who appeared at least 7 years old with a mouth of sewage, yet the parent’s concern lay with that her little baby was not free, as he was a young child. Apparently quoting the sign next to her stating that “children under 4” go free did not appear to solve the situation. Eventually the mother paid the fare but was told that twitter would be hearing about this.

The other time was when a pensioner’s bus pass was out of date and, sticking to the rules, charged the customer the full price of their ticket, which they paid coupled with brief discussion about ‘pensioners together’. The ticket was paid for in silver coins, weighing a fish smelling ill fitting jacket even more to one side.

It would appear no one wanted to know about the bus timetable. The fact that the B33 now leaves the Sicamore Road at 3.39 didn’t seem to be on any minds today.

When the shift was over the bus pulled into the yard, Del got out his shift book to made note of all that had been happening today. Agatha quietly got her pieces together to be ready to get off the bus.

Then, for the first time since he had grunted in the morning, came the first words from Del all day. ‘How many tickets did you sell today?’

As soon as she had answered the door was shut and the driver had disappeared. Agatha sat there alone in the bus. Lights off with the engine creaking as it began to cool down.

Shift one was over and only 7 words had been spoken all day from her travel companion.

Tom greeted Del with a pat on the back as he came in and handed his book into the office. Del looked at his with the same face he had had stuck on all day and walked to his car to drive off. Agatha handed in her coins, filled in the paperwork, then set off home to find a cup of tea waiting for her with Andy stretched out on the sofa. Not that his back was bad, but he wanted to stay there for a few hours because the cricket was on and he found watching at that angle was better to gauge the distance that the ball was being hit. It was when Andy couldn’t name either team who were playing, or seem to realise it was a repeat from the 1980s that he had to concede he may have done too much in the garden. Waiting for the reply of attack he was surprised to see his wife felt like his back.

Agatha simply sat in her chair breathing in the tea and for the first time all day, enjoyed the silence of a person next to her not talking while she drank her tea. She thought about her day, the people she met, the driver she was now working with.

‘No’, she thought to herself, ‘Tomorrow there will be more than 7 words’. She was determined to start a conversation about something, anything. Even if it was to explore the new timings for the B33.

Continue the story with Part 5.