short story – Page 2 – S J Lister. Author

GSC – Security for those that matter

Joan counted the till for a second time. She knew it could be counted a third, but the result would be the same. It was the same result from when she did a quick count of some of the supplies in the store room. Things were low. Every week Joan counted the receipts, looked at the deliveries, did a random spot stock check. They did not add up.

Sam appeared at the door behind her, his ability to quietly move around was a quality that had often supported him in the past, but Joan sighed as she did not want to ask what she needed to. She trusted Sam, always had since she hired him. The thought of having to swing on her chair to ask him with the numbers fresh and the consistent gaps worried her.

‘Have you seen these figures for the week?’. She placed her pen down next to the computer having ticked off each of the receipts.

Sam looked at Joan straight in the eyes. He did not shy away from difficult conversations by nature. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but no one here is the reason’.

Joan held his look, it was an odd feeling, but she was able to tell he believed he was telling the truth. She could never explain it, but when people lied to her she felt a warmth in the ears every time. She simply replied ‘I never said it was’. The pause felt longer than it was, it was only by counting to 5 in time with the second hand on the clock that managed to keep the weight of it come down on her.

‘I’ve checked each day, spoken to each of them on the floor’. Sam was always calm when he spoke. You would never know what happened to him outside of work. Good or unwelcome news, he was consistent in how he applied himself when he arrived. ‘No one has seen the money go or the stock disappear.’

Joan picked up the pen and hovered it over a pad of paper, bouncing the end of the pen on the paper. What could she write. No one knew anything. No one’s appeared to see anything. There was no point questioning what Sam had been told. Where others saw an issue in having him work in the shop, Joan saw it as a comfort.

‘I have to ask Sam’.

‘I know. I would worry if you did not.’

‘Have you seen anything that is a concern to you?’ The words fumbled out.

‘No. No one on the floor is a concern.’ He looked at the pen hovering over the pad. ‘I also haven’t taken anything either.’

‘I never suggested you did!’ Joan dropped her pen and jumped up, looking Sam in the eye.

‘Joan, calm down.’

The cushion on the seat is not a new one. Held together by more gaffer tape than thread. It was as Joan sat down in disbelief of the conversation some of the tape lost its grip in the struggle to hold it together.

Sam lent against the door frame, looking at the pile of bills pilling up next to the computer. Some were starting to come in with a range of phrases that all meant the same thing, pay up. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘I don’t know.’

The silence was finally broken when Olivia brought in a business card for Joan, passing it to Sam to bring to her.

‘Odd couple of guys wanted me to bring this to the Manager. Seemed shifty but nothing to write home about.’ With Sam’s thumb and finger holding the card Olivia drifted back out. Tapping the railings in the stock room as she walked out.

‘”GSC – Security for those who matter” Looks to be some security card’.

Joan took the card from Sam, it was a plain card with the name across the middle. The back was blank and all that was on the front, apart from the name, was a thin line around the margin squaring it out.

‘Looks like word is out for people to know we are losing something’.

Sam never liked the idea of someone taking advantage of him or his associates. If he ever felt threatened the bulk of him was a reminder that he would not take it lying down. As he straightened up the door frame was a reminder to where he was standing with a bump.

‘Sam, now you need to calm down.’ Her cheeks always showed a dimple when she smiled. It amused her how it could make Sam giggle when he saw them. At first it made her self-conscious, but then she realised the impact it had. There was a time and place for a calming note.

There was a knock on the door again and Sam swiftly moved out of the office doorway, a well-practiced motion for someone who has become accustomed to supporting the person in charge.

The business was still in Joan’s hand while she found herself waving it side to side. Normally, there would be a name, a number, or some form of contact detail for her to use, or chose to not use, pending who the card was from.

“For those who matter. What does that even mean?” Joan placed it above the pad of paper, which was next to the keyboard on one side, and a pen parallel to the pad on the other. Order. Through order you can be ready for anything. Joan collected her thoughts as she reviewed the items on her desk. Unlike the business outside of her office, all was as it should be.

9th November – I wonder what would happen?

‘The film Up! has a lot to answer for.’

‘For the last time, you can’t use Disney told you to as your defence.’

The vein was back. Every time I tried to explain how I got into this it always started from the same place. Apparently, this is not something the judge will look too kindly on. But it seemed to make sense, I was inspired by those who try to inspire children, really Disney should be to blame. And besides, it was half term, and I got a bit bored. Plus, it is not my fault if you can so easily get things on the internet.

‘Before we make our way down to the court room, let’s just try to go through your plan again.’

It was always a good idea to pause when my lawyer collected his hands in front of him and sighed to his chest. I often wonder if he questions picking up the phone when my mum called him. She said she owed him a favour and that he was the one before your father turned up. But I never remember dad being a lawyer, so I have never understood what she meant.

‘Well I have just finished watching the film Up! Once again mum was working on the computer, and I didn’t know what to do. But I noticed that her tablet was around, and I wanted to know how many balloons it would take to move a house.’

‘Ok, I think we can skip the bit about you searching online for balloons, and how it would take… ah here it is, 1 million balloons to lift a house but I am only a child so I would need a lot less. The judge will have read this statement already, so I don’t think we need to go into the entire 12 pages you have signed.’

‘But I don’t want them to think that this was just some silly thing that I did one day. I planned this. I’m an idiot’.

‘The more you emphasise you planning this, the following things happen. Your mother cries and the judge will come down on you harder.’

‘But isn’t it always good to tell the truth?’

‘I am not telling you to lie. I am just wanting you to not be judged harshly.’

There was the sigh again. This box room was starting to get a bit boring. All I wanted to do was see how far I could travel. I was sensible. I did tests to check beforehand. All good scientists should plan ahead and see what might happen before putting anyone in any danger.

‘You remember when your father went, and how sad your mother got from that?’

‘YOU ARE NOT TO TALK ABOUT HIM!’

‘All I am trying to say is, if you are not sensible today, you will be making her sad all over again.’

‘I just tried to keep myself out of trouble. I just wanted to play some games and not let mum be distracted when she was trying to work. To be her good little bear.’

‘I know. But the problem is when you play like this you can cause problems for other people.’

‘If we could just talk about the news report. I think that showed a lot of people enjoyed what happened.’

‘That news report was made by your friends and was shown on YouTube. The only reason that has been such a big hit and made it on the national news is because of the trouble your experiment caused.’

‘Still made the news though. Also, those two on BBC Breakfast were laughing about it…’

‘And they had to apologise for that didn’t they…Didn’t they?’

‘…I guess.’

‘So, when the judge wants to find out what happened, what will you say?’

‘That I was just trying to have some fun and didn’t know what I was doing as I am only 10?’

‘Well that sounds a bit better than the planned experiment idea. Although it might be difficult to prove now that you have already given in your notebook with the quite impressive calculations.’

‘Isn’t it a good thing though that it shows I forgot multiple some of the numbers the right way?’

‘Sam, let me remind you of what happened.’

The palms were flat on the table this time. His left hand then collected the picture folder. In my defence, I didn’t realise that helium balloons would travel so far and as high. I thought my sums meant they would hover, and I could catch them. Possible use a catapult to send them to my friend’s house.’

‘Teddy bears attack… Hugs from above… oh and my favourite one, It’s raining bears. But that may just be me. These are the many headlines from around the county, and further, along with the pictures of your sister’s teddies from your act as they were caught and found.’

‘I did make sure they had my name on them so I could get them back for my sister.’

‘And that was a very thought-out detail. Which is why the judge can easily map out all 34 experiments you did that day before the police turned up to stop you moving on to phase 2 of you little experiment.’

‘What’s going to happen to me?’

‘We will have to see when we leave this room and go down the hall.’

‘Can we wait a moment. I don’t want my mum to see me scared.’

Sam sat there looking at the pictures. He had created a storm on social media that week, hashtags such as #bearsfromabove #whobearisthis helped to get lots of people entertained. He couldn’t wait till he went back to Cubs too, all of his knots had lasted the journey. He was sure to get the knot badge now!

Then came the knocks on the door. It was time.

5th November – Just one more Figurine

‘Its eyes follow you around the room.’

‘Don’t be silly Miranda.’ Mark stood there trying to not catch her eye. He didn’t mean to buy things that gave her the creeps. Miranda described it as an instinct to find them. He leaned in for a closer look at the item he had put on kitchen table. ‘For one, it doesn’t have any eyes so how can it follow you around the room’.

‘It hasn’t got eyes? That is your defence for trying to say that this thing isn’t creepy.’

He paused before he said he next comment. He wished that he had paused to contemplate her thoughts, feelings and her own points about his new acquisition. But he knew that the pause was really about his looking at how the tubes connected from the two cannisters on its back, to the mask on the front. He wished he was thinking about how he could say the right thing and come to quick conclusion following his brief two minutes of shopping unaccompanied. But he was wondering if the two tubes were an in-out system or just that they used two cannister to breathe from.

Josh chose to not share these pondering thoughts with Miranda. Instead he attempted to calm the situation in the hope of keeping it out in the house. ‘We don’t have to have it on display on the table like this’. As soon as he spoke he realised he chose poorly in his phrase.

‘Was that what was going through your mind? Keeping it on the kitchen table.’ This was not a new tone, this was not the first time Josh had bought something that they disagreed on. This was not the first time he wanted to display it for visitors to see. Josh also knew that in about 3 hours’ time Miranda’s parents were going to arrive and there were still many jobs on his list to complete. ‘Why do we need to have this conversation every time you go to the market in town.’

Calmly, but steadily and with no attempt to look back, Miranda left the room. Josh was standing there, staring and still wondering about the pipe work on the figurine. Was this a space suit? Was this something to go underwater with?

‘Well I guess it is just you and me for now. Got a good place to hide you away until she calms down’. Josh picked up his new piece to place looking at it wondering if it will end up in his room of stuff. It was a room most visitors didn’t get shown on the Grand Tour. But it was his.

It was probably the detail the artist used that drew Josh into buying it. The mask on the figure reminded him of the gas masks that he had seen in old World War One films. The cannisters on its back were something out of scuba diving but the outfit that seemed to cover the individual and a more material cloth type look to it, apart from the straps holding the cannisters on its back. It was posed as I standing but on the way to move with its legs not quite straight. The suspense of it intrigued Josh and thought it could be a good conversation piece in the hallway. So far it had made a brief encounter with Miranda and that ended quicker than he would have liked.

Eventually, Josh turned off the light to head up to bed. As he left the kitchen he placed the figurine back on the table wishing it a good night, while quietly mumbling about how it wasn’t that creepy as he walked up the stairs.

Half an hour before Miranda’s parents were to arrive Josh raced downstairs as a scream permeated through the walls. As he ran down he almost tripped over a pair of socks before he found Miranda in the lounge pointing at the figurine with the gas mask on the side cabinet. He was unsure what the problem was however through the screams it was clear that Miranda felt that the figurine was staring at her when she came in.

His reaction to this was not what Miranda wanted. He giggled at the thought of Miranda turning to new ways to worry about her parents coming to visit. This seemed to happen every time he thought. Are the windows clean? Has the bed, which they won’t even be using, got clean sheets? Has the lawn be mowed? Is there washing out to show the garden being used? Is the washing packed away to keep the side table tidy? Once Miranda joked about sticking tomatoes on the plants to make them looking better than they were. Despite her attempts to laugh it off Josh was never quite sure how far the joke would have gone.

However, Josh chose to make a cup of tea ignoring the outburst. As Miranda eventually followed she found Josh had poured two cups of tea and was making a clear attempt to try to move the conversation on to a more pleasing topic.

‘Do you think we should paint the Kitchen that green colour you found last week?’

‘This is not the time for painting, you know that. My parents are coming in an hour. Besides…’

‘I am not meaning we paint it now obviously. But next weekend I will be home when you are away. I could do it then.’

‘Josh, stop this. I want that thing go. It looks odd, even for your collection. Why can’t you just see that it creeps me out.’

‘Why is it, when your parents come round I clean the lounge. Then you clean it again. We put up your pictures and put out things that you want. But when I want to put out something of mine, we need to have a full discussion over it and agree a compromise?’

Miranda paused. Her parents were going to arrive in 63 minutes and she still needed to get the washing away, clean the bathroom and hope to sort out an outfit for their arrival. Josh just needed to make sure the dinner was ready to be reheated.

‘Why must we do this every time you randomly choose something. It is as if you are wanting me to fight with you when you do this. This is how it feels.’

‘That is a bit far, I just saw something that I liked and thought it would make a good addition to the querkiness of our house.’

‘…Why…must…our house…have a querkiness level at all? If this is the way you are still thinking then maybe we need to have a different discussion when my parents have left.’

Miranda left without touching her tea. Josh waited to see what would happen next but simply heard the vacuum cleaner start and clean the lounge, a room he had already gone through since they got back. The muttering that came through the sweeps of the machine around the room did not invite him in to continue the conversation.

It was then he realised that Miranda had brought into the kitchen the very figurine that started the conversation.

‘Well it is just you and me for a bit buddy’. Josh turned to make sure that the dinner was all prepped and ready to be heated for the evening. He was not going to let her parents see him fail in the kitchen again.

The time for Miranda’s parents to arrive came quickly and it with seconds past that time which brought the chime of the doorbell rang. They arrived at precisely 5.07pm as they had said they would. Miranda’s father always liked to give what to many would appear to be a random time. Why stick to multiples of 10? Josh always said it was this sort of pedantisms that made Miranda the way she was.

With no sign of the door being answer Miranda rushed downstairs as she didn’t want to leave her parents outside in the cold. She welcomed them in and directed them to the twice hoovered lounge with the pumped up cushions reserved only for guests. She called out for Josh to make the teas while she visually scanned the room for anything out of place. After a few minutes of discussing the new painting on the wall, the kettle could still not be heard so Miranda quietly made her way to make the tea and find the biscuits.

To her relief, the figurine was still nowhere to be seen, but there was a note on the table. Addressed to her.

Dear Miranda,

Thank you for letting me explore your home. I have learnt a lot about the ways of you all through my time here. After seeing how you all live and the options I have found around me, I have decided to procure Josh and take him home with me to add to my collection. I know he will fit in there with the other pieces I have found.

Thank you for helping me choose which of you I would take home with me. I was worried it would be a squeeze to take you both with me. I hope you find your house without the oddities better for you. It seemed that Josh’s additions upset you.

p.s. I hope I have left enough of your currency under this note to reimburse you for my purchase.

4th November – The first room

Andy stood there looking at the garden. This was the first garden he had ever had. Before he had only been able to play round his friends in their garden, or in the park, which was everyone’s garden.

Not today, today this was his. His garden to play, to rest, to imagine in.

All he could think of doing was to lie down. He knew there were boxes. Boxes in every room. His parents had decided to focus on one room at a time. They had made it clear that together, they would sort out each room, one at a time, and by the end of day one they would have the TV room for them all to sit and relax in together, and then his room so he could sleep properly on his first night. They wanted to make sure he felt that they were thinking of him with the move. Having his room ready, or at least a room for him to sleep in and feel comfy in, was important to helping him transition to the new house. They said.

When they reminded him of this in the morning, he did feel happy, he felt important and he was looking forward to it, but who really likes change?

Then he saw the garden.

To some, this may not have been much. A patch of grass. A space where a ball could be be kicked around, maybe some plants put in. His friends had bigger gardens and he enjoyed running around with his friends.

But this was his.

He simply laid down. Feeling the long grass between his fingers. The way that although it looked dry, managed to make his knees, then his hands, and now his back, all wet.

When he would eventually go inside he figured he would get told off, as young boys do when they come in muddy. He was now one of those boys who would be told off by their mother for making a mess in the kitchen after playing outside. He smiled.

Andy laid there listening, he closed his eye tight and listened. He had learnt about bugs in school that week, he was shown how to collect and watch them with different devices or contraptions and how to do it safely. Now he could do it from his own back garden and see what the bugs did each day in the grass, the rustling, the chirps.

He remembered he had a half eaten biscuit in his pocket, he remembered this because he could feel the ants slowly moving around him. He could hear the hustle and bustle as they moved to get to the biscuit that was now within their grasp. He giggled as they moved around his skin and made him squirm. He giggled more at the thought of being told off about being even more muddy than before. He was a young boy in the garden getting muddy and soon he would be told to ‘get out of those dirty clothes’ and ‘change into [his] pyjamas’. Probably to go have a wash first too.

Andy smiled again.

Around him he could hear the birds singing and along the fence he spotted a small black cat edging closer to a bird.

It jumped.

Missed the bird.

Missed the landing too.

It shook itself and looked at Andy who the day before had not been there.

Andy was not the bird. He was not its owner.

The cat was now in Andy’s garden. Andy got up and chased after the cat. It quickly ran away seeing who was in charge, or at least who was bigger, and scuttered up the fence back to its own garden, or at least in the direction of its own garden. The first battle had been won. Andy the victor, the mighty. Defender of birds. Protector of his realm. He might need to make a cape later.

Andy felt at home already. His bedroom would not be ready for hours. He would probably be told off and be having a wash within 30 minutes but he suddenly realised that his parents were standing behind him, watching him.

Watching their muddy son in the garden, chase a cat, be covered in what appeared to be an entire ants nest carrying away pieces of a biscuit from his trouser pocket, while covered in mud.

This was it. He was about to be told off like his friends do sometimes when playing in the garden.

His parents smiled and came to sit in the garden. They too got damp hands and knees. They too got their backs muddy from the wet grass and soil.

Their first room was ready and not a box had been opened for it. They enjoyed it together, the first of many days in their new garden.

3rd November – The cold ocean

I swam out from the beach when sun was still up. I thought about how the day had changed from the time when the sun came up. This morning I sat in bed, feeling warm and happy. Then the cold water shock came. Not straight away. I woke up. I made breakfast. I tidied the fire place that was on last night. The furnace had made my new home. I put it there before anything else. The home was mine. Then I invited someone to join me. It became ours.

Before long I started saying ours, not mine. I didn’t say I anymore, I said we. Small things in my day changed and I stopped doing what I wanted to do and did what we wanted to do, together. I shared what I had made. I was happy. I felt that warm feeling that so many had talked about. Those silly RomComs that were made back in the 90s, where they said ‘lived happily ever after’ at the end. I thought I found it.

Well, just like with Shrek, the sequel after the ending was never straight forward.

So it was this morning when I was making the fire for tonight that I found something. It was a receipt that hadn’t fully burnt away. From a restaurant I had never been to. For a meal I had never been a part of.

I am sure you can guess what happened next. I surprised myself though, I didn’t throw any plates. Even the ones I never liked. What made me sad though, was how within 25 minutes of me finding the receipt they were gone. Like an episodes of friends really, the one where Phoebe tells Rachel about Paolo and it was wrapped up by the end. Goodbye. Of course they move on and she eventually finds Ross, even though so many question that decision, it made her happy. She got off the plane.

But that was all made up right? Where can we separate the made up bit on the TV to the bit that is real?

Maybe I have it all wrong. Did I do something wrong? Did I say we too often? Did I not say it enough? Was I too happy when they were not?

I tried to go to work this morning, but judging by how quickly I was sent home I don’t think I was meant to be in the office today. I stopped to get some cake on the way home with a hot chocolate. It was 10am I didn’t know what else to do with my morning. One plus side of looking like shit I guess, is you get whipped cream and marshmallows for free on top.

How can I go back to an I? I have read about these people who fall apart and I always thought that they need to step up, or get out and do something. But all I found I have done is sit at the beach and somehow felt the chill holding me together. If I am cold I don’t have to think about what isn’t there. I don’t need to think about ‘For how long?’ or ‘What did I do wrong?’. I also don’t seem to think about ‘What a fucking idiot!’ and ‘Screw them!’. The cold brings clarity.

Sadly, all I want to do is be alone and sit but if I go back home then the empty space of them will be there, an vacant space on the sofa seems to be one too many. I also probably left that receipt on by my, our, fireplace. Making a new fire means feeling warm, building a new fire. It will only burn away eventually.

The good thing about this beach is the sunset, the islands ahead of if give a wonderful view, but this is also why so many other people come here to. Having people around you enjoying a sunset kinda stops being on your own from happening.

I have jumped in cold water before. The videos of people jumping off piers and landing on frozen water, or people falling in when they think it is frozen, always brings that awkward laugh when I have seen them. But today the cold seemed to hold me. To stop the feelings I don’t want to face come up.

I swim and float a little further to get away from the voices of the happy couples and groups on the beach. The only sound of waves passing around me as I float there fills me up and I can just listen to the never ending sound of waves. Yesterday they were there, I would probably bet all I own that tomorrow, they will be there too.

Constant.

Strangely reassuring to know that they won’t let you down. Sure, they are damaging to those who live on the coast. Homes can be lost and they can flood whole countries. So not all good. But they will always be there and I don’t think a wave has ever thought, today I will flood a house. They just move back and forth with the pull of the moon. Easy.

The cold is an odd feeling. At first it makes you shiver, but as the advice from RNLI say, don’t panic and make slow movements to float, your body does begin to warm. But this cold feels oddly comforting. It won’t falter. It won’t stop. It won’t lie!

It is what it is.

Those shouts are getting louder and it seems some idiots think with the sun going down is a good time to go out to the oceans on a boat. This should be a time for peacefulness. A time so I can think about how this morning I was happy and now. Well now all I want to do is ignore those feelings, those memories and lie here in the ocean. The waves sound clear and feel right. These waves sound the same as when I was young.

They have not left me or lied.

I close my eyes and I can feel the last rays of the sun come over the water, the tips of my fingers feel the days end. The last light of the day. Bilbo may have realised the last light of Durin’s Day was from the moon, but it’s the sun that has the warmth to it. I feel it drift away and think about how the warmth will not come back.

The boats sound closer and people are shouting. Every so often the boats stop. People shout. They seem to be playing some kind of battle from Takeshi’s Castle.

After the third time the boats stop I realise I’ve learnt my superpower. I can blend into the water. Where do I stop? Where does the water start? Maybe this will be my future, the spirit of the water. I shall be the constant to others that they weren’t to me.

I hold my breath and wonder what it must be like to be the ocean. As in the whole ocean.

Will I mind all the fish peeing in me? On me? Could both be right? That’s a question for Attenborough.

These boats are whizzing around again, they seem to be getting closer. The sound of the boats stopping again creates a new calm, their lights spread around the water’s surface near me but they will never replace the warmth the sun had. I can hear them called and somehow I can hear my name. Did the ocean tell them where I was? Did the fish feel nervous about what I would do to them if they didn’t use the dedicated areas of the ocean.

My name travels across the waves from different directions. It seems the boats are out and all calling for me. I just wanted to be alone. The sound travels above the sound of the waves, they sound panicked.

Panicked for me!

What am I doing here?

The cold will only offer cold. My fire place may have been used to hide some receipt but it will always warm me up. It won’t ask me to be the toilet to the fish and sewers.

In the distance one of the engines starts to roar again. The stars are out in force tonight but there are bright lights on the surface scrolling around. Looking for something.

Looking for me.

My legs have already started to blend with the oceans and I can’t seem to move. Who know you could turn into a superhero so quickly! Those waves that came like a constant now seem to be pulling me in. I don’t want to be the a fish toilet. I will miss my fireplace. My blanket. I even miss my whipped cream and marshmallows despite the calories!

I want my blanket back. Not the one I shared. My blanket.

I can’t move towards the lights but I can’t bring the boats to me yet either. A second engine seems to roar and move off. I hear a voice, ‘We can’t just give up!’.

This is my chance.

My arms can barely move. But I want to be warm again. I want to make a new fire.

“Hello! I’m over here!”.

Eggs

Halvor couldn’t sleep. He knew that today was the day that the local shop would be getting the latest edition of The Loyal Citizen and he didn’t want to have to wait for the second delivery in the middle of the week.

This story was inspired when I was walking home after getting the paper from the local shop where my parents live. This is a lovely quiet area in North Yorkshire and the atmosphere seemed to make this idea jump out (Not sure this is a good thing though).

Hope you enjoy.

—//—

Each white picket fence around the cul-de-sac had the morning newspaper placed in the middle of its gate. All were freshly painted from the previous weekend as the neighbours came out to paint them on the relaxing sunny day. Group activities always helped to build a community within the cul-de-sacs, the young and old, all took part and congratulated each other on a job well done when complete. Today saw how the sun rise above number 3, bathing the houses in a warm glow for the day ahead.

Erik was collecting the paper for his father as 3 cars drove into the street and parked around the car already there by number 7. People in light grey suits got out to open the doors as the Trygg family appeared from the house with their bags. Erik naturally waved across the street as Sten, his father, briskly walked out to bring him back in with the paper. He calmly waved, greeted everyone a ‘Good morning’ but swiftly turned to walk back inside.

Once inside Erik looked up to his father with a smile. After the door had closed Sten looks down to his son, his young eyes beaming back to his, and spoke clearly. ‘It seems that the Trygg’s have been rewarded with a new house. I hope they enjoy their bigger garden and new community. Now let’s get ready for our day ahead so we can go get your comic, sorry, graphic novel, and have a nice day in the park’.

Outside, with the bags packed, 3 cars quietly pulled away. A remaining member of the group locked the house, closed the gate and got into the car which then droves off. Leaving the quiet cul-de-sac with the freshly painted fences and the newspapers in the middle of each gate.

——

Halvor couldn’t sleep. He knew that today was the day that the local shop would be getting the latest edition of The Loyal Citizen and he didn’t want to have to wait for the second delivery in the middle of the week. This would mean trying to avoid all his friends, who will no doubt have read it and want to discuss it in school on Monday. He also knew that he would not be able to get out to the shop when it opens if he didn’t do all his tasks first. Maybe, with a few extra tasks complete, he would be able to have enough money to buy some sweets.

As he walked outside he pondered an odd tradition in the cul-de-sac. No one wanted to be the last house to collect their paper, but to be first was looked equally frowned upon. Today, Halvor didn’t care. He was going to get each of his tasks done before his parents even got up to make breakfast. He had thought he heard his mother moving around at one point, but their door never opened so quietly continued.

As he skipped out of the front door to collect the paper, he was expecting a quiet, empty road in front of him with the newspapers sitting in the middle of their gate. Halvor had never seen who delivered them, but they were always there when people woke up in the morning. Today this was not the scene. Well it was, but there was something new.

In front of him was a cattle lorry. It was large, black and resembled his sports shirt after playing all afternoon on a muddy day. He was amazed that it was still able to be let out in public as his mother had always sent him straight to the bath when he got home from sports. Once, he was even threatened with being hosed in the back garden to save the carpet but, as he had stopped 3 goals that day, he was carried upstairs by his father like a champion. It was as he was looking at the muddy streaks he realised the two drivers hadn’t seen him while they were talking about how to reverse back to the main road. Then they noticed Halvor, standing there, and froze.

Gleefully he called out, ‘Good morning, are you lost?’

The two drivers stood and didn’t respond.

Halvor couldn’t tell what exactly happened next, but he did know three things happened pretty quickly.

From behind his mother, Thyra, appeared out of the door and heaved him back into the house. Halvor himself was pleased that he was able to hold on to the paper and hand it carefully over to his mother once they were inside. She simply looked down at the paper while Halvor walked off to find his next task, placing his shoes on the rack to keep the hallway tidy.

At the same time a black car appeared from around the corner and 3 light grey suits appeared, they seemed to quickly organised the cattle lorry to support it being driven away.

The final thing that he noticed was how the cattle had begun to wake up and started moving around inside. This created an awful noise for the early morning and Halvor wondered if anyone else in the cul-de-sac was woken up by the beasts.

Inside, Halvor had started to set the table for breakfast. As he placed the final fork his father, Ivar, and his mother entered the kitchen and saw Halvor standing proud of what he accomplished so early in the day. So many morning tasks complete and breakfast wasn’t even started yet.

‘I think it’s time we get our new eggs open’. Thyra glided across the kitchen patting her son on the shoulder. ‘After all, we need to reward the hard worker who started the moment the sun was up.’ Slowly she started breaking and beating the eggs together in a bowl while trying to whistle her favourite tune.

Normally an eggy breakfast was reserved for someone’s birthday or a national holiday, he read this as a clear sign that he was impressing his parents with all his hard work.

Before the pan could be started there was a knock at the door. Ivar calmly paused his son from running to open it and went to find out who it was. It was not long until Halvor was called to the hallway by his father where he was met with two people in the same light grey suits as those he caught a glimpse of before. Ivar guided them all to the front sitting room where his father proudly showed guests he wanted to impress. There were family photos, prizes and certificates on show that they had all won over many years. It was only ever used for guest and if Halvor was ever found playing in there he would be given specific tasks to remind him not to be there.

Halvor had noticed no one seemed to go to open the curtains. He was called over to the sofa next to where the two guests sat in the single seats looking at him carefully. It was odd, but they were apologising to him for the inconvenience caused by the cattle truck, but all Halvor could think of was to ask if they wanted any help in cleaning it. He explained how he was recently given the task of keeping his father’s car clean and wanting to get the practice of washing other vehicles too.

It seemed the only thing that would stop him from offering the different levels of cleaning and waxing he had learnt about was his father to promise that as he had been so helpful, they would go to get his ‘comic’ once the local shop opened. This made Halvor stop talking straight away.

The light grey suit with the notebook paused. Their voice was calm and warm to Halvor as she queried, ‘Do you have a favourite character in The Loyal Citizen?’.

Halvor had never really heard of an adult wanting to discuss his favourite graphic novel. But the other suit seemed to stop the conversation before he could go on about how he loved the recent developments and how the main character had to make a choice about their two best friends. The light grey suit simply asked if he was ok after seeing such a large cattle truck in his quiet cul-de-sac.

Halvor eagerly explained what he saw, how the two drivers seemed to have taken a wrong turn, the beasts inside were sleeping when he walked out but started to wake when his mother pulled him inside. He also apologised that he was not able to help more and give directions but he was proud that he kept hold of the newspaper as it didn’t get dirty or crumpled. He then began to list the tasks he completed in the house but he was stopped short. They only seemed interested in the disturbance outside.

With a side glance between the two suits, they rose. They shook Ivar’s hand and congratulated him on his house and the one with the notebook bent down to shake Halvor’s hand as well, thanking him for his continued effort to make his parents proud.

Outside, Thyra was in the corridor waiting to see what was happening, attempting to dust an already clean corridor when the door opened. The leading suit greeted her, repeated the congratulations on a tidy and organised home. Along with praise for a helpful and responsible son. As they shook hands the suit leaned in and wished her luck for making her eggy breakfast. Commenting ‘It is always good to reward those who have worked hard the moment the sun was up. Have a good day Mrs Trygg.’

Thyra smiled as she opened the front door to bid farewell to their guests and wished them a good day.

As the door closed Halvor was looking up at his mother. ‘Mum, there is something I don’t understand.’

Thyra paused and looked back at her son who was lingering in the kitchen doorway. His puzzled face staring back at her.

‘Mother, if that was a cattle lorry, why did I see some human hands appear from the truck?’.

Thyra paused in the hallway, standing there looking at her sons inquisitive face. Slowly she breathes in. Then out. His eyes beam up at her wondering why his mother is looking at him and wondering why his father behind her has a similar stunned face. He then notices his mothers hand begin to shake.

It was at this point a shadow fills the glass in the door, then a second, and then a third. Finally three knocks follow as a fist hits the door.

—//—

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.