An old man sits down next to my mother. There are a lot of old people here, along with me, my mother, and a few other kids I don’t know, with their parents. There are several schools on this route.
“Sit still, dear,” my mother tells me.
I wriggle in my seat.
“I said,
sit still!”
I hadn’t moved until she said anything. It always seems to happen that way. I only end up doing something wrong after she has already told me not to do it. I don’t mean to, it’s just the way things work out. Don’t ask me to try and explain it, I’m only six.
My bag is lumpy. We are on the bus after the one we normally get. I couldn’t find my shorts, and I have P.E. today.
“You do know I’m going to be late for work now, don’t you?” she says to me, looking at the people on the other side of the bus. We are near the back, where the seats change from being set out two behind two, two either side of the aisle, like normal, to being lined up along the sides of the bus, facing each other. I can’t see any reason why.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
The bus stops, and a large lady stands up further towards the back. As she waddles forward the sun stabs in through the window from behind where she was sitting, right into my eyes. I screw them up tight, but I can still see bright orange pulsating behind my eyelids.
“Don’t you think they should have curtains on buses, mummy?” I ask her, my hand up in front of my face.
“They do on coaches,” she explains to me.
“Why not buses?”
My mother looks down the bus, towards the front.
We stop, and further down the bus a man stands up from his seat and gets off. As we pull away I look at him out the window, then to his empty seat, and then into the sun. I hold my bag up in front of my face, until my mother tells me to stop ‘messing about’ and so I put it down again.
“That seat is empty,” I say. “Can I…?”
“Certainly not,” she says, stretching upwards to peer at whoever is sitting next to the empty space. “I don’t want you disturbing that young lady over there.”
A few more stops and a man in a suit gets on and sits down in Fat Lady’s seat. Although he is not as large as she was he is tall, and his head blocks the sun perfectly.
He rests his briefcase on his lap, which looks uncomfortable. I shift under the weight of my own bag.
“Will you
please… sit still?”
I do as she tells me, or at least try. It’s very difficult to sit still when you are so uncomfortable. My mother twists around and looks out of the window as the bus passes a row of houses. One of those houses must be very interesting; she looks at them every day. She makes like she has just remembered something, and says to me, “Jackie will be picking you up tonight.”
“I don’t like Jackie,” I tell her.
“Well, tough…” She looks at the back window of the bus, back towards those houses. “I’ll be busy come home time.”
“Doing what?” I ask.
Looking over at the man again I notice how unlike my father he looks. And not because he’s wearing a suit. My father wears a suit. He’s about the same age as this man. Similar build. I think, now, that they may have the exact same briefcase. But my father doesn’t look anything like this man.
I sit as quiet as I can. We stop again, and people get off and some more people get on. The bus is pretty full now. All the children have got off the bus now. I think I am the only one in my school who gets this bus. Maybe all their parents have cars.
Everybody left on the bus is staring forward, at the backs of the chairs in front of them. Except my mother, her eyes darting about this way and that, looking for what I don’t know. And, I notice, except for the man in the suit who looks nothing like my father.
He is looking at me.
I smile at him, and he smiles back.
Then the man winks at me.
I feel my smile getting broader, until it turns into a grin. I laugh, but no one looks at me.
“What’s your name?” the man says.
“Elliot.”
“Hello, Elliot. I have a son about your age.”
This strikes me as an odd thing to say, although I can’t work out why. No one ever says anything like that to me.
“Does he go to Ridley First School?” I ask him.
“No, he goes to Kingswood.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a shame, I think he would be your friend.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I think he would. You seem like a nice young man.”
I don’t know what to say to this, so I don’t say anything. My mother tells me that it is rude to ignore people. As I think this I look at her, and she is on the phone. I didn’t even notice. I look back at the man, and he is still looking over at me, holding his briefcase and smiling.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you there.” I say.
“Just because you didn’t reply doesn’t mean that you ignored me…”
I smile.
“I’m glad you sat down there.” I tell the man, gratefully. “You blocked the sun from shining in my eyes.”
He turns round, squinting into the sun.
“Don’t you think they should have curtains on buses?” I suggest, when he turns back.
He laughs. “Why not? They do on coaches…”
“Exactly,” I say.
I turn to my mother. She isn’t looking at me.
'Fetch'
'Abigail'
'Colours'
'Down to Their Level'
'Sooty'
'The Butchers'
'Crusty'
