The Bus Driver – S J Lister. Author

The Bus Driver. Part 8

With her shoes fixed, dress washed and hanging to dry along with a cheeky takeaway of fish and chips for dinner, the storm of the day calmed as it soaked away in her bath. Agatha eventually explained her day to Andy, who held back his giggles throughout, supported and comforted her after what was a clearly testing, although amusing for him, day.

Despite the worry and chaotic nature of the first day of going back to school, Agatha was pleased to see that even the new rush in the morning and afternoon soon fell into routine. With a regular hand appearing for more sweets back in full swing. As September sailed on, Agatha was pleased to see that the local children were, in general, a lovely group to have on the bus with only one incident that caused Del to stop the bus and get involved. To Agatha’s surprise, the child that was being rude quickly apologised and took their seat. Del, who seemed to have done very little, took control quickly and with what appeared to be very little effort on his part.

The change of leaves was always a good time to be on a bus, driving through the village lanes and seeing the watching the trees go by each day with the hints of orange, yellow and reds coming through. It was a joy that Agatha kept having to jump out of when the bus stopped at the remote stops to pick up passengers going to and from town. The bus was the connector to these parts and Agatha did enjoy meeting the different people, with some recognising her at the different pubs she and Andy would find themselves in. She was even once surprised when she was once offered a drink. Flustered, and out of an in built politeness, she accepted warmly and nearly forgot to go find Andy waiting for her in the car. It wasn’t until he came in to find her sitting at the bar sharing a half with another man, that she remembered where he had gone. Then when she introduced her husband to Nigel, she realised that the sadness that appeared in his eyes was probably from him thinking that, like him, she was a widow and looking for some company. Instead of what she was actually doing which was paying the bar tab from lunch.

Overall, with the flow of children each day, the weekly pub quiz and the growing number of friends they had both met, Agatha was, feeling at home in the new village. Tom had even, twice, tried to explain his different hobbies to her. She had made the mistake of doing the same routine that she does with her brother which was to remember details of what they said last time and then ask questions about it. This, unfortunately for her, gave the impression that she was interested. She was not. The rules of rolling dice, movement of little models and the significant of certain colours being used as paint was made all the more boring when pictures on the computer were used to help explain what they were talking about.

It was on a windy October morning that Del, having realised that Agatha had been caught by Tom by the glint in his eye, came in to save her from the conversation and suggested they needed to get moving as Betsy didn’t like to be kept waiting. Agatha was naturally polite, too much on occasion. Del was not.

‘She doesn’t want to hear about the latest rule changes and whatever you think about the value of a roll of a 4 on a dice.’ Carefully nudging Agatha to the door out of his office. ‘Besides, I am sure you really do have better things to do while in the office and a work schedule needed to get the buses all washed and serviced.’

Once they were out of the door and part way down the hall, Del paused. ‘You really need to stop letting him tell you about his hobbies. The best way, stop asking questions’. He paused, then abruptly turned to go to the bus. He walked off, leaving her behind but waited at the end of the corridor holding the door open while she collected herself.

Most buses had orange pumpkins on them with spiders or other such decorations stuck on them. Betsy didn’t. It was the one bus in the fleet, probably the county, that didn’t appear to express any awareness of the upcoming festivities. Agatha eventually asked about this the day before.

‘Betsy is not a party bus. She is not here to highlight a holiday or pick a football team.’ He managed to become more droll with each word that she was worried if he was able to speak softly to her again. ‘Also, when you decorate the bus, it only attracts more attention and I don’t want silly string in the seats again.’

Two ideas came mind, the first was the idea that there had been silly string sprayed all over the bus once and wondered how bad it got. The second, would this mean should couldn’t wear her elf costume to work when it gets close to Christmas. She might need to build up to that one though.

For now, Agatha was content in knowing that the bus system was working, her change system worked and she felt confident that with the addition of using a card machine soon will work smoothly now that the connect problem had apparently been solved so all cards could work. Well, all except American Express according to Tom.

The Bus driver. Part 7.

The passage of time. Some authors are able to make a second last for pages, while others can move hundreds of years in a sentence. Today is my attempt at moving through a day without having to make it a step by step, hour by hour run through.

—The start of school—

When Andy was younger he decided that he would take the stance to not like net curtains, especially in the kitchen. They didn’t appear to do anything and would get in the way of having different things on the windowsill.

It didn’t take long for him to realise he actually liked the sun coming in through the patterned nets. They seemed to stop the bright sun coming into the kitchen in the morning during summer but did allow enough light to come in throughout the year. This didn’t change his mind on finding them being annoying at moving them during the day or limiting what he can have on the windowsill, so it was this small thing that stopped him admitting defeat to his dear wife. He would neglect to mention what he did like about them as, an idea they both shared, letting the other know they were right will only encourage them in the future. An idea he knew Agatha also shared and it was this that kept them on their toes with each other, while also being happy about it as he knew, that they both knew, when they had each won a small victory.

So it was today that he found himself looking at the patterns on the wall while considering what tea to get out while the fake bacon warmed on the pan. They had chosen a new set when they moved, this in turn required a discussion about the colours and size. Andy remembered the days of discussions and patterns they had, how their granddaughter came to help them make the final decision. Andy wanted to have a tree pattern with greens mixed in but, as was often the way, he was out voted to get the birds. Their granddaughter was right, as usual, and he stood there that morning looking at the patterns float on the walls with the morning breeze through the window. For a moment he remembered that day with a mix of emotions.

Before they could take over he jolted back into his morning question with the bathroom door closing firmly upstairs, not slammed though. He looked down at the drawer of tea. Black tea. Green tea. Herbal tea. Oolong tea. A wide variety of boxes had been piled into it and he wondered what some of the flavours even meant. But then he found what he needed. Mint tea. The box was bought a few months ago and was nearly empty. He had hoped he never needed to buy more but this morning, better to be safe to use the mint and risk it with the lemon.

The stairs were soft when Agatha descended for breakfast, Andy had all the pieces in place and was ready with his usual smile and, for once, had chosen to clean himself up for breakfast. The past month had flown by with the ease of the bus being used by a range of people, but today was to be different. The children of the area were to be using it and this was an unknown. Agatha didn’t do unknowns. She had spent a career trying to find out what was wrong and solving it. When an unknown was there her career had been to find the answer. This time, there was no one she could ask, no one who could tell her what to expect when they arrived. Andy could tell she slept badly by the bathroom light being turned on, at least, 3 times, while also being kicked, moved and prodded throughout the night.

When she walked in and smelt the tea from the door way she looked straight at him. ‘I am not that bad! I had a slightly unsettled night’s sleep that is all.’

‘Tell that to my left leg without looking out the window.’

Ignoring this, Agatha tucked into her sandwich and drank her tea, pausing slightly to breath it in but not allowing Andy to see how much she didn’t realise how nervous she was.

After a quiet breakfast she collected herself to be ready, kissed her faithful partner on his balding head, and set off to be at the bus ready for whatever the day brought. Albeit with an extra bag of sweets in her bag.

Strangely, Del was not found not in the bus as he normally was but in the office with Tom. As Agatha collected the float for the day she could see through the door they were having a heated discussion but the door muffled their voices so couldn’t tell what about without making it obvious she was listening. The tea station sat too tempting and so a quick cuppa was made to pass the time while she watched the clock tick closer to the time they had to leave.

Betsy, as Del often called their bus, had been left running in the in their space and so instead of awkwardly waiting, Agatha chose to sit in her seat and prepare for the day ahead. The change was ready, tickets in the right pocket and her normal routine for the day was complete. All except her ‘Good morning’ to Del followed by a usual grunt or similar expression.

With 2 minutes to spare, Del appeared. It was clear that there was to be no chit chat today and Agatha was starting to wonder if she should have brought her mint tea with her in a flask. But with the movement of the gear stick, Betsy pulled away and the day began. Albeit bumpier than normal.

—

What hurt more for Agatha was the complete lack of sympathy that was given to her when she got home that day.

In her mind, she would arrive, Andy would stop what he was doing, run a hot bath for her and sit on the seat in the bathroom and listen to how her day unfolded. Offer words of comfort and support while making her a nice drink to have while in the bath as the bubbles slowly burst with a scented candle flickering away in the corner filling the room with a nice aroma.

What actually happened was slightly different.

As she pulled into the drive of their home, she slowly got out of the car to be greeted with laughter from the fence. A job Andy had decided to start that day so to get a new coat of paint on in preparation for the autumn. Agatha trudged towards the door ignoring the not so quiet muffled giggle and comment about the lollipop stick that was dangling from her back. Comments about her new tail were not helpful as she tried to get the door open quickly which made it ‘wiggle’. The sight that met her when she looked in the mirror reminded her of each moment of her day.

Now the morning had started off well, children on the bus gave her hope for a good day ahead, new uniforms arrived, oversized blazers on the smaller ones with backpacks as big as those carrying them. However, the return journey did not go the same way. The signs were there, one student thought Agatha might be able to help them with their maths homework. On their third attempt to explain the question a smaller, if not younger, student jumped in with frustration to not only give the answer, but to also explain their workings. Later, she had at least 3 students cling to her in tears after their first day, this was how she suspected the lollipop for stuck to her. As Agatha attempted to remove it she was not convinced the students were really upset as they also seemed to get over their day so quickly.

Then came the older ones who had been to get coffee and other large drinks from the new shop that had opened up over the summer. With Betsy being driven rougher than normal, and teenagers not paying attention, at least 2 of these where thrown over her while one of the group bumped into her and landed on her foot. Breaking the small heal her left foot had while, she suspected, bruising at least one of her toes.

To end the day properly, one of the pots holes in the bus yard had filled with water after one had been washed which, naturally, covered her from behind when a bus drove in after she had ended her day. Del seemed to not try for any comments after this, but did appear to hand her a towel before she drove off quickly to the road to get home. Somehow she felt that the day had brought them a step closer and calmed him down from whatever had upset in in the morning. But, despite this, she had no inkling to explore this with wet clothes on.

It was after she reviewed her day through the mirror that Andy appeared via the back door. Leaving his buddy boots in their usual place so not to make a mess, she could see him considering passing a comment that she do the same, but made the judgement that turning on the kettle was the wise choice.

Once the giggling had stopped, a cup of tea made, Andy did then run that bath Agatha had been wanting, but instead of sitting with her he set to cleaning her dress and mending her shoe. What he didn’t always do in conversation, he made up for in his own way. Hearing him set the washing machine going was still a sound that made the candle and bath have a way to end the day.

Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow will be smoother and easier with them.

The Bus Driver. Part 6.

I find I can have an idea for a story, often this comes in the form of an idea for how it may start. Then I get the ending come to mind in some way, and if I am able to get to my note pad I can write it down and map the beginning and ending out. But I always struggle to get the middle pieces, or at the least get the middle pieces to map together to join a story together.

So like always, this story is mapped with the beginning, and the end already done. The middle is actually mapped out with a timeline but the little details, the days and changes between events are still being formed. But part 6 is finally set.

—The end of Summer—

The daily routine of going to work on the weekday, having a shift pattern with the only driver who seemed to work weekdays and not weekends, along with the one who could get away with not having to wear the official shirt, all seemed to come easily for Agatha. Once she had washed the fish smell out of the ‘uniform’ that is.

After the first week Del’s daily motions conversation seemed to flow slightly easier, there were quiet moments along the route that Agatha realised there would be no point in trying to break. But the hand requesting sweets still came. With each request she felt the warmth of the man in the driver’s seat slowly grow. Progress is progress, no matter how small it may seem.

Throughout the summer, the different plans that fluttered around Agatha seemed to take a shape of their own. The garden quickly developed into a series of beds, however, Andy had appeared to limit the size of some of them as by the end of summer new shoots of grass could be seen appearing in the soil. Why, after so many years, he suddenly had decided to slow down his own plans for the garden and vegetable beds was a mystery to her. She did decide that not going to comment, as he may start to think about it and change his mind. The pub quiz team that they found were steadily in 3rd place each week. Despite Agatha making sure that the sports section was their strongest, they seemed to struggle on topics such as pop culture and current music trends. In her new working life, the music choice of Del didn’t appear to help in this, 80s classic rock and folk style rock music didn’t appear to come up in the quiz.

But Agatha smiled each morning when she left for work, so by the time summer came to an end her routine was safely set, she had quickly found that after working for a month through the summer that her place in her new home was becoming settled after the past troubled year.

To Andy, anyhow, this change over the last month was seen differently. The 3rd place in the pub quiz, after Agatha winning the sports round each week, meant that he was having to find his own round to step up to in order to support Agatha. Sitting quietly, enjoying the company and the local beer was not going to be enough as 3rd place, although respectable, was not good enough. What his specialty was to be he still did not know, but one day he would have to find his thing to be bring to the team. The grass shoots that were growing up came from multiple reasons. The first was the not so subtle consequence of seeing the eyes staring at the beds each evening when sharing a pot of tea, along with comments about how much food one pair of elderly people could eat in a year. This was coupled with the growing twinge in his back. This was actually aggravated more from his efforts to try to hide his discomfort as opposed to the original cause of it. But the big change that made all the comments, sneaking off to the garden centre and the seeing his wife go to work each day after retiring pale in comparison, was the morning he noticed she didn’t sit there for breakfast and breath in her tea. To many this would have gone unnoticed. But Andy saw.

It was a tradition that she started about 15 years before, a small querk of her routine that started after they had a difficult period, and it only came back during times of stress or when she was unsettled. It was one that Andy always looked out for and could judge how she was. After 2 and a half weeks of working on the bus, she woke up, ate her breakfast and simply drank her tea. That was the day he decided to grass over some of the beds, sit back and rest. It was also on that day, that evening in fact, he was found on the garden sofa, sleeping. But for the first time Agatha saw him not lying there to rest his back, conked out from a hard day in the garden, but to simply enjoy the sun in the garden with a good book and half a beer drank, well more like one quarter drank at best.

So it was a quiet summer evening, early September, Andy and Agatha sat there eating their dinner together while the news was on in the background summarising the global, national and sports news. It wasn’t until the local headlines came up that Agatha realised something was about to happen.

‘Thank you Jill, we were at a local primary today seeing how they are getting ready to welcome back all the students after their long summer tomorrow.’

Agatha dropped her fork and knife as she realised that the bus would suddenly be crowded in the morning and afternoon with all the local children. On mass. Without their parents keeping an eye on them. She was used to meeting troubled children in the past, but this was in small groups if not just one. Not tomorrow. Thankfully they generally had bus passes that Tom had set up to make it easier for the local children to prepay and not carry money around.

But come tomorrow, all the children would be out, the good ,and the bad.

Continue the story with Part 7.

The Bus Driver. Part 5.

Attempting to bring in some of the different characters here and explore Agatha. This is my attempt to bring in some of the back story to her but not saying much at the same time. Who is this person and why has she taken this role? Hopefully the aim has come across.

—Toffee—

Today was a Wednesday. Agatha sat there at the dining room table with her cup of tea looking at the headlines of the paper, the spark was slowly going each day but it still gave the local news. The soft cushions Andy had added to the chairs didn’t distract her from noticing the developments in the garden, but the thought meant he would be given a day’s reprieve, for now. At least the sun seemed to bring hope to the day ahead as it bounced around the room, the cutlery shined, the picture frames reminded her of happy times and the breeze brought in the smell of cut grass with the summer weather.

‘How long you thinking of doing this job then as a bus conductor?’ Andy would appear to many to be showing support, but the tone resembled the same one that he used when Agatha had tried to take up growing flowers to sell online. 5 years, a lot of the garden taken over and a huge compost pile was the result. Some ideas just didn’t seem to get going after retirement. Something about this idea though was different, which unnerved Andy as he saw the look in her eye.

‘My new career will take as long as I am able’. The reply was as tart as the pie was for dinner the previous evening, but at least the pie had an ending. Andy wondered if this time it was worth trying to hide the new plants arriving at the door, 3 hours early, or just accept that today was not going to be his day.

The last thing he saw of his loving wife that morning was her trip to the door after the doorbell rang and the loud grab of her coat from the banister. He did feel bad, not only were the plants early, but the company sent all his orders in one go, sensible from their part, but having an already annoyed wife see 7 small conifers, 4 bushes, a flat pack table and chair set along with the assortment of flowers for 5 , albeit small, 5 different beds, all arrive at once and being unpacked onto their front lawn. It was going to be a long night after his long day.

He could understand why he was probably going to need to have a warm cup of tea constantly on the side with a new pack of éclairs on table just for the off chance she does come home that day.

Agatha left with thoughts of her husband disappearing for a discussion that would happen later as she pulled into the local shop for what was an undiscussed tradition. It Del would not really speak to her, then she would feed him her favourite sweets, while explaining why they were her favourite. All the ways she has found them across the country from different types of styles, sizes and combinations, to really show why she felt they would brighten up someone’s day.

Her arrival at the yard was much the same as yesterday. Although this time she made a comment on the fish smell to Tom and suggested that the uniform should be washed before given to new members of staff. His response, ‘Just make sure the pockets don’t shrink!’ seemed to suggest a different focus.

Never had Agatha ever met someone so obsessed about pockets. What difference would it make she began to wonder, however, she had a plan for the day and that mystery would have to wait.

Agatha strolled up to the bus, which, as the day before, was ready and the radio was on. The jeans were the same but to some surprise, the t-shirt was changed. Shortly after they pulled away, she turned to him to begin her plan for the day and began to share her sweets with him. This seemed to give no response apart from a hand appearing sometimes to collect a few more before pulling away for the next stop. Progress was progress, and it should never be ignored.

After some time, it was time for part 2 of her plan. ‘Del’, Agatha whispered, ‘how good are you at keeping secrets?’

To her surprise it was this comment that seemed to have broken the silence. Slightly hurt that he didn’t seem interested in the way people make toffee on the coast of Cornwall but pleased to have some when she first arrived at the bus. ‘Secrets are best kept if people don’t share them’. It may not have been words to write home about, but it was only 10.30am, already better than yesterday.

‘Well’, she continued, choosing to ignore the implied I don’t care in his tone. ‘I am starting to think that Tom has a point about the pockets. Once you get used to where each coin goes it is quite a good little system to keep order.’

The pause seemed to stretch as far as the last 3% on a phone battery. Agatha became increasingly aware that the bus pulled into the next stop in the usual ease and nothing was changing.

‘Tom has always liked order.’ To her surprise Del was now sitting facing her, eye to eye with a sense of warmth to his look. It was clear that Del took pride in describing Tom. ‘He has always liked to make things work, to add up. Don’t get me wrong, the guy is a complete nerd. No seriously, he collects figures, paints them and sets them out on display set distances apart. If you move one he won’t speak to you for a week.’

Del continued air of mischief, ‘if you really want to see him lose it, move 3 of them and turn one of those 3 around 45 degrees. However, because he can’t do things as odds, he will search until he has found a 4^th that is out of place. Which there won’t be’. Del sat back ready to pull away from the bus stop as the new passengers joined the bus. His smile seemed to show he had done this, more than once, and the response had never failed to impress him.

Agatha sat there, intrigued at what she had heard, she couldn’t work out if she was more shocked by the prankster Del had shown himself to be, that fact Tom was a collector as obsessed as her own brother, or that Del was talking. Either way she enjoyed the brief moment until he turned back to driving the bus and left her sat there on the front seat seeing the husk of a driver with all the mischief and joy drained away.

The new passengers were Jo and Tracy. Friends who appeared to have a very different dress sense to each other but were chatting the day away. It was again that Tom’s system seemed to work as the change came in and out so quickly.

The day continued much the same as the day before. Although, lunch was different. Yesterday, Del had driven back to the bus station and sat on the bus on his own. Today he found a spot by the local hills looking out. There was a quiet stream trickling past and a bench sat where the stream meandered round a boulder. Del sat there eating his sandwich without saying a word. Looking out to the view as the time ticked by. His thoughts looked out to the horizon, almost past what was there.

Agatha sat on the seat. For the first time since joining the bus she didn’t try to speak. With the sun high in the sky the water glistened under the clear sky. The space filled with the quiet spot and as she closed her eyes she began to remember the scene from years before. Memories merged with dreams for a moment, she was there again.

‘Agatha?’, the words shuddered her from her sleep as if she stumbled into the boulder outside. Del was standing there checking she was ok. She realised her packet of crisps was over the floor as she had fallen asleep in the moment. She quickly picked up her crisps and tried to quietly wipe her face clear in the chaos that had happened in the quiet moment.

The afternoon passed uneventful as both driver and conductor continued completing their jobs in silence. As the bus drove into the station Agatha told Del how many tickets she had sold and walked off the bus before Del even turned off the engine. She handed in her change to Tom and took the jacket home to wash. Neatly folded on the passenger seat she drove home on the quiet streets.

It was as she drove in that she found Andy sat on the floor planting the final shrubbery in the front garden looking tired and sweaty. He prepared himself for what he had been fearing all day. Knowing the chairs and table hadn’t even been unpacked and most of the flowers were still in their containers in the back. The washing up hadn’t been done as he had slept through lunch needing a midday nap and dinner was only just starting to defrost. Agatha walked over to him leaving the gate open, knelt down and hugged him.

There had been times when he knew that comments, pokes or silly actions were not needed. He didn’t need to worry about the soil covering his hands getting into her hair, messing up her top or the fact that he clearly had overdone it today, again. He knew he would be told off eventually. Right now he just hugged her back and waited until the right time to go run a bath and put the kettle on. He didn’t need to ask, he knew why she began to cry. He would never say ‘I told you so’, but this is why he feared he the moment would find he to say it.

Continue the story with Part 6.

The Bus Driver. Part 4,

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.

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.

The Bus Driver. Part 3

Hopefully, I have them separated within this scene. A lecturer once said how each character should have a kind of theme tune when they come into play to help write how they would be. Just think of Darth Vader and how his music always comes on. One idea that has stayed with me when writing a character.

I found this an interesting one when editing, trying to catch mood and different characters sense of how they would interact. Dialogue is something that I enjoy trying to capture but having separate voices at the same time was tricky to make sure each was unique to their owner.

—Meeting Del—

Agatha followed the instructions to the letter. They were pinned inside the car with a map Andy had printed off to help. But all this was only back up in case her phone suddenly broke on the way sending her in a completely different direction. She had learnt over the years to put in the precise location of where she was going and not a general area. The story of how they went around Bristol Airport in search of the centre of a forest and not the car park 2 minutes down the road had be rehearsed, tested and perfected by Andy. Despite the protests from Agatha had made, both in private and in public.

The engine was turned off and, with the piece of paper in hand, she made her way to the main reception. From the interview Agatha couldn’t see why the job could cause confusion, people arrive, ask then where they are going, collect money, hand them a ticket. If a person has a pass, then they just show her the pass and don’t get charge. But to remember to check it is in date. This was something Tom, the manager of the buses depo, was very clear on. Apparently, there had been an old couple who had failed to renew their local pass as they didn’t want to pay for the stamp, but being of the elderly variety, the former, younger, conductor didn’t think to check the date, or was afraid to mention it.

‘2 years!’ Tom’s voice carried the way only a person used to being on stage for amateur dramatics could. ‘She let them travel for 2 years on her bus for free. I will not accept age as a reason to get away with stealing. You must check each date on the card Agatha’.

This was mentioned twice in the interview alone and there was a new poster outside when she made her way in. Of course the poster showed all ages, but it was clear that he didn’t want anyone to get a free ride.

When Tom had finished what could only be seen as a rant, he handed over her very own conductor jacket. It seemed to smell slightly of fish and was like her son’s jacket when he goes fishing. But the pockets were good for different types of change. Agatha had always looked good in green. Sadly today she had chosen to wear a bright red top, thinking it would make her visible. It will be worn with a practiced smile when she met parents who had failed to even tidy for her planned visit, let alone the drop-ins that were unplanned.

25 minutes of outfits to clash like this! A thought she would not repeat to Andy when she got home as she had learnt proving him right in their marriage only added to him feeling he knew best. Even if he was, it wasn’t helpful to support such ideas. Thoughts drifted to the sofa discussion after they moved. It was the sofa she had wanted. It looked good in the shop and was the right price. But one day she was sure a dog will come round that is teething and accidentally make a hole meaning she will let him buy the one he wanted. Which will probably be comfier, more supportive and generally be a better sofa.

Tom gestured with the ticket book worrying Agatha had stopped focusing on where all the change was to go. However, once Tom was happy that change and new ticket book had been placed in the right pockets, he began to make his way to the door. It was from here she was to first met Del.

Most drivers sat together having a cup of coffee or tea. Some stood outside smoking sharing stories of their evening. Del, who was already sat in his bus, had the engine running and the radio on. All the other drivers seemed to wear at least shirt and smart trousers. To Agatha’s surprise, there were even two who wore ties. Del did not. Del wore jeans and a t-shirt. There was a blue shirt that had an old company logo hanging behind him. It appeared to have seen better days and needed at least an iron. It not burning.

‘Del, turn that thing off, your new conductor has arrived.’ Tom smiled at Agatha waving towards the bus.

Slowly the radio got turned down, not off, just down. ‘You will find Del here is a quiet driver, but don’t let that stop you talking to him. He will fill you head with stories before long.’

The sideways glance made his mouth appear to fuse together. The soft tap on Del’s arm from Tom seemed to show the kind of friendship that would allow Tom to go so far but knew where the lines were so early in the morning. But still, professional or personal friendship, it was unclear. No words of kindness, no words at all, came from Del. The warmth showed by Tom froze the moment they hit the bus. It was a wonder that the slamming of the window didn’t remove a finger from Tom’s hand as the radio turned back up

Tom began to repeat his mantra from this morning while Agatha walked round to get on the bus. ‘Now remember what I told you…’

‘Always check the date of the bus pass’ Agatha butted in. ‘Keep the change in the correct pockets for ease of when it gets busy. Oh! and don’t accept any discounts without the proper documentation. I believe you covered all of those this morning my dear. I may be old enough to be your gran, but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like an old forgetful lady who needs to take her meds 5 times a day. I can still do my sums and on a good day, I might even remember names. Now off you pop as the bus needs to be getting along and Del won’t want to be waiting more than he must.’

Tom stood voiceless as the bus drove away. Agatha sat down in the seat at the front and waited for the first set of customers. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought there may have been a slight smile on Del’s face after her response to Tom. Although this could have been the silence that came across Tom, or the return of the radio being turned on with a new song coming through.

But she was sure there was something.

Continue the story with Part 4.

The Bus Driver. Part. 2

I have tried to use small items in the description to ‘show not tell’ about the morning, the imagery of what is happening and the two characters.

The main focus of this section is the relationship between Agatha and Andy. Their routine and trying to bring in part of the story about how they have come to be there without actually telling the reader why they are in this new area of the country.

I have tried to use small items in the description to ‘show not tell’ about the morning, the imagery of what is happening and the two characters. I have no doubt that their relationship is based more factually on a few people I know that I care to admit, but one that I have always admired between people.

—The First Day—

One of the benefits of retirement is not needing an alarm clock. The peaceful breathing that arose from the bed, the steady rise and fall of each chest with the occasional snore had taken place in their bedroom to a routine that can only develop with the ease of two people who have been there for decades. Thankfully even with the recent move, Andy and Agatha had settled quickly to their new home. This morning that would be one difference, Agatha was awake. She watched the clock tick by as the seconds passed by.

Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.

At one point she swore the second hand paused, moved backwards and then paused again. She was about to get up to check the batteries but then it moved forward and 3 minutes had actually passed.

Even with the knowledge of the alarm they both jumped up before their bodies caught them to drag their bones back to the creaking of joints and sleepy muscles. Agatha was in the ensuite room before she realised her slippers were on the wrong way round. Andy sat there wondering what day it was and if it was too early for sarcasm. He was about to say something, but the bathroom door closed so felt the answer with the shaking of the walls.

Realising that the alarm had been set for at least 30 minutes earlier than needed, he set himself the challenging task of seeing that there were no new messages on his phone from anyone and felt there was little excuse to stay in bed that would have kept him out of trouble.

Downstairs the kettle turned on and a few rashes of veggie bacon began there warming process. Andy refused to say cooked as the bloody slips never seemed to even change colour. He may not have supported his wife’s new career choice, but he was not going to let her go out without something resembling a good breakfast. His own breakfast would be cooked after she left as the real bacon would get him told off and he had enough plans for the garden for that without the discussion of bacon to add to it. Andy may have missed this year’s growing season, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him preparing and sorting out the herb garden and the seeds ready for Autumn and to the broad beans to overwinter.

After the third expletive to come from upstairs Andy decided to make his way upstairs to see if he could help, however, before he could get to the door the stairs were being pounded as if a dragon descended.

‘Well that hair drier does not have the same power than it used to’

Agatha rushed into the kitchen, her hair half finished with a look that generally meant hold back sarcasm. She was about to start rushing around the kitchen when she saw the table had been laid. A glass of orange juice, one cup of lemon balm tea next to a ‘bacon’ sandwich with extra brown sauce were waiting for her with a knife and fork set either side. All on top of a flowery place mat. Agatha leapt into Andy’s arms to give him a hug. From Andy’s perspective, this hug meant a wallop to the face of wet hair with an earing poking his nose, but the sentiment was felt, with a slight twinge in his back.

Before they knew it, it was time to go. Agatha took a deep breath and went to walk out the door. Andy’s parting words stuck with her as she walked out.

‘You don’t have to do this’.

He had stayed strong with his support over breakfast , but when he kissed her cheek with those words he was unsure if he was going for sarcasm, annoyance or his brain slipped it out after being on his best behaviour all morning.

He knew she could not resist nor would he have been able to really stop her. It was by chance that the advert was there, and by the same chance that she got the job.

With the closing of the garden gate the bacon was laid in the pan and as Andy poured on the brown sauce, the garden centre delivery van pulled up.

At least that didn’t arrive before she left.

Continue the story with Part 3.

The Bus Driver. Part 1.

This is the opening part to a short story inspired from sitting on a bus watching the conductor and the bus driver. From a short bus ride I thought of different ways that they may know each other, work together along with why the may be there. Short of it simply being a job and that their shift was together today.

What if they worked together all the time? What if one of them took the job for another reason? Do they get on? What is it like to work together on a bus all day with the public?

I normally struggle to think of the ending but this story seemed to flow. Still writing the middle parts but very proud to have each section planned out even with a timeline for the whole story, before the scene below and up to the end.

—The Advert—

It can often be the simple things that catch our eye, for Agatha it was a small ad in the paper. It read:

“Local bus service requires conductor for daily shift.

No experience required.

All may apply”

This reflected a slow degradation in the paper that had been noticeable, for those that paid attention, over the last few months. She placed the paper down onto the table and picked up her cup of tea. A wry smile appeared as she breathed in the tea before drinking it. The smell of herbs was a small delight before the battle about the garden or whatever project was to be today’s ‘plan’. Peppermint. This normally came out when a big project was being subtly planned.

Andy, who sat on his chair opposite on the table wearing his morning dressing gown, with his pre-shower hair, a common sight since retiring, looked at her as he had done so for the past 45 years knowing that he can protest all he wants, but will end up giving in trying to comment. He simply put his own mug over the top of the advert.

‘We don’t need the money you know’.

The words trailed off into the kitchen and he turned to look out of the window to their new garden. They had not lived their long, but it was clear the last owners didn’t spend much time in there. The different sections were quickly forming along with the brand-new shed that stood pride of place in the corner. Next to the now three overflowing pallet compost piles. It was with each day he was being reminded of his age and that he was a pensioner so couldn’t do what he had done once. A reason Agatha was more than keen to remind him each day when suggesting they grass over some of the beds he was planning.

Andy stretched out his back, slowly becoming aware of the muscles that used to stretch more 20 years ago. He would tell Agatha, but trying to hold his bacon sandwich together without falling apart was making his hand ache. He didn’t need to do the third veg bed yesterday but he was ahead of schedule so thought he would try to stay that way. The bacon slipping out between the brown sauce and bread told him how clever that decision was.

‘It will get me out of the house for a bit and be good to meet some more of the local people’.

There are many things Andy, as a good and loyal husband, has been good at. Pretending to be interested in sports was one, he still didn’t care for football but Agatha did. It seemed to rile her when people assumed he was the reason they were there. Especially as he would repeat to everyone down the pub all the comments he had been listening to over breakfast that morning. He also was an expert at appearing to be a loyal supporter of vegetarianism while sneaking off to a local chain when at work, joint paid up members of Green Peace and of Amnesty International, but still couldn’t stop the intrigue about what shark fin soup might taste like. One thing however, that Andy had not been able to develop through their happy marriage was to hold back a laugh when the moment came. That comment was one of those.

The look was well rehearsed, and after years of marriage the conversation was down to a look each way and a final movement of the eyebrows. Andy simply went to refill her tea with a thought pick your battles lad being played on repeat.

So that was that. Agatha would apply for the job and to both their surprise, she was called in for an interview the next day with an offer on the spot. Neither one was shocked at the acceptance and the following Monday, back out of retirement as a Youth Worker, Agatha was to be a Bus Conductor. Her clothes and uniform were hung up and had been neatly pressed. Andy, the ever-supportive husband, got the tea mugs ready for the morning, lemon for a new start. The kettle was filled halfway and he turned the light off with a sigh while Agatha lay in bed as she read the local bus time schedule.

Apparently, this would help her in public relations.

Continue the story with Part 2.