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. For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking of this story for the rest of the holiday.
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.
S J Lister. Author 