Darcy Gordon was using his arms to keep himself warm, despite wearing a City Transport issue winter overcoat and a pair of regular woollen gloves instead of his usual fingerless ones, the cold air chilling his lungs, then escaping in ice cold puffs of translucent candy floss. Stamping his feet, compacting yet more snow as he did, Darcy looked at the Council House clock and asked himself ‘Where is Harry?’.
He was six minutes late; was it the snow; the traffic or just too many passengers, no one wanting to cycle or drive. It was just one break run to Wollaton Vale and back, 82 minutes in total, long enough for Harry to have a bite to eat, read his Sun and a pee before he took his bus back and Darcy could follow on, with his own 35 to Bulwell.
Then through the falling snow Harry came, all lights blazing, the front of the bus a vertical layer of frozen snow, getting thicker by the minute. In some ways, coming in was the easy bit because every bus was City bound. Passengers just put out their arms and caught the first bus, but going out it was a different story because passengers had no idea if the bus coming towards them was the one they wanted, so they stopped every bus until they stopped the right one.
Darcy would be late all day if he had to stop at every stop, then he saw Egg, one of the city centre's two full-time road sweepers, so called because of the shape of his bald head. Everyone knew him, a celebrity of sorts, he never had to buy himself a drink and most mornings he picked up notes and coins discarded by merry makers, often too drunk to find their pockets or wallets as they paid the taxi driver. Egg was enveloped in yellow, ballooning like the Michelin Man, with a woollen hat and ear muffs to keep his head warm. Darcy walked across, ‘Egg, can I borrow you broom for a minute so I clear the front of the bus’, adding ‘please’ as a belated afterthought.
Egg looked at him and, as he handed Darcy the broom he said ‘Not so long ago you carried your own brooms under the stairs’. ‘Don’t remind me Egg, then I’d have been sitting of top of the engine, me feet warm and my nuts roasting, now it’s at the back and insulated.
In no time at all, Darcy had the front lower half of the bus clear of compacted snow except the final layer, which was ice. Egg was now standing beside him. ‘You need this’ and handed Darcy a wide scraper at the end of a broom handle. ‘For bubble gum and icy pavements’. It did the job in seconds and ‘Wollaton Vale 35B’ came into view. ‘Thanks Egg, you’re a pal, the next one’s on me’. Egg grinned back ‘Aren’t they always’ and they laughed.
Neither noticed Harry was standing behind them. ‘It’ll be covered again by the time you get to the Circus’ he sneered. Darcy didn’t bother looking at him or replying. No wonder some witty passenger had a long time ago christened Harry ‘His Miserableness’ and among the regulars this had become his name. ‘If we’re lucky, they’ll take us off, coming into town was tricky. I’m going to park myself in Tuckers with the Barton lot and enjoy a nice egg and bacon buttie and a jug of tea. Come and find me when you get back — if you do, ha ha’.
‘Come on, get a move on, we’re all freezing to death while you lot natter’ barked a matronly woman at the front of the queue. Darcy looked at her and thought of his own, menopausal, Megan at home, who was probably dancing naked in the back garden, enjoying every moment. ‘I’m coming Duck’ and he waved all eight passengers onto the bus saying ‘On the house today’. The management were talking to the union about introducing pre-paid travel cards and when that happened, such acts of generosity by drivers like himself would have to stop.
Darcy was about to close the doors when Tosh, a City Centre bobby hopped onto the bus. ‘Oh, it’s you Darcy. How's things?’ He gripped the steering wheel and came close to hitting his head against it. ‘Tosh, I’d love to talk, but I’m running late. Next time, but I’m fine and so is Megan. I’ll tell her I saw you’. Darcy saw Tosh pull himself up. ‘They’re gritting Derby Road by the Cathedral right now, only one lane, and they’re turning buses at the Circus. It’s not going to get any better for the next 24 hours’. Darcy looked at him and sighed. ‘Thanks for that Tosh’ Darcy said, ‘Now let me go. Please’ and Tosh obliged by stepping off the bus and giving him a wave as the doors closed.
Darcy waved back, as he released the handbrake and put the brand new Leyland Atlantean bus into gear. A lovely bus to drive in normal circumstances, but right now his feet were freezing and they would stay that way for an age, thanks to the designers not giving drivers any more than windscreen heaters. Hot air rises, even Darcy’s granny knew that! Egg was right about the old buses with their half-cabs over the engine and an open platform at the back, allowing passengers to jump on and off. There had been conductors too and that was how he had started when he finished his national service. He had met Megan on his first day. Love at first sight and her a Londoner too. Now, it was all one-man operation, the occasional conductor when the technology failed, and slower too on account of drivers having to issue tickets and give change. That was another thing coming: ‘No change given’. That was going to annoy the travelling public for a few months at least, though the new travel card with its 10% discount would stop most of the regulars from complaining.
Why Darcy stopped he never knew. He’d closed the door, left the bus stop and Tosh behind, then a woman came out of the whirling snow, the front of her coat covered in snow, her arms extended and waving, shouting something. She was running straight towards him...
© Robert Howard
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