The Bus Stop

THE BUS STOP

Told by his wife that she wanted a divorce, Mark Hyland felt the immediate need to get away. The destination he chose was his hometown on the South Coast, he booked a hotel for three nights. The last time he was there was three decades before. With its happy memories the town was the right place at the right time.

En route he reflected on the news that his presence was no longer desired.

Mark’s wife had a point. The marriage was not working. No shared activities, long periods of not talking, just going through the motions.

Mark arrived at his seafront hotel, checked in at reception and was pleased to hear he'd been given a free upgrade.

A pre breakfast walk along the promenade the next morning and then he drove out to his childhood home on the northern edge of the town. He smiled as he drove past his old bus stop where he used to catch the bus for all of his school years. He recollected the British Racing green E-type Jaguar that was always parked opposite and how he’d admired it whilst waiting for his less glamorous transport to arrive.

He parked up near his old residence and noted it had been modernised. The garden concreted over. Soulless he thought and mused it was endemic of the present age. Utilitarian. No beauty . Colourless. He had pictures of back in the day of the abode - and had transferred them onto his phone. His favourite, being of his Mum, sat on the front step with their cocker spaniel in her lap.

To his surprise, someone came out the front door.

In a mad moment he thought to show them the picture and see if they would invite him in. Then again he was in a vulnerable mental state. Mark asked himself even if successful, would the memories come flooding back and he’d lose control of his emotions and embarrass himself. Best not, nice thought and all that; but no.

Prior to setting out on his nostalgia visit, Mark had made a list of places to visit : his old schools, the large green in the middle of the town, where he’d played cricket for the school. His old taxi office where he’d worked for a couple of years. The grand entrance to the railway station, he’d been through countless times. The list had twenty places.

The one thing he promised himself was to take a bus into town like he had used to as a schoolboy. See if that triggered any memories.

That journey happened on his next day.

He parked up again near his old home and re-enacted his old route to the Bus Stop. The electronic arrivals board announced a ten minute delay. No matter, he wasn’t in a hurry . Apart from a woman of a similar age, he was the only one waiting .It came on to rain and he moved into the Bus stop shelter as did the woman.

Having stood for a couple of minutes his eye focussed on the lanyard she was wearing. It bore the name Lucy Crockett.

He’d never forgotten that name.

Mark looked at her face, the features were familiar to him, even after all this time. It was her. His first crush. Never spoken. He’d been very shy back then and indeed young. He deliberated for all of ten seconds on whether to say something:

‘Excuse me, did you used to catch the bus from here in 1965? ‘

Just prior to him speaking, she’d turned away, on hearing the words, her head jerked back, her long black hair swished briefly across her face as a result and she all but took a step back.

Certainly her body language indicated no small amount of surprise to his verbal approach.

‘I did. But how on earth would you know? I’ve never seen you before.’

‘You have, but in 1965. Let me explain, ah, but only if you permit, I don’t want to intrude or be thought of as a weirdo.’

‘Its ok. Go ahead.’

‘You used to go to the Convent right?’

‘Yes, but how would you know.’

‘Uniform, a deep red?’

“It was. Oh this is a bit surreal.’

The bus came into view.

‘Oh the bus is coming.’ She commented.

‘Is it ok to continue this conversation inside? Mark asked.

She gave a quick nod.

They boarded and sat in adjacent seats.

‘Right this is the awkward bit Lucy, if I may use your name?’

‘You can.’

‘At the grand old age of twelve, I had this crush on you.’

‘You did? You never said. Sorry that’s massively simplistic.’

‘I was a bit shy, well more than a bit and let's face it, things were a bit different back then.’

‘They were and all in a good way. So what are you doing here, do you still live here?

No, my family moved away in the seventies. This is a nostalgia visit, brought on by.. ..well never mind.’

‘How extraordinary we should meet and you recognise my name. But since we never spoke, how did you know it in the first place?’

‘It was on your satchel.’

‘Course it was.’

An awkward silence fell, broken by Mark who asked:

‘ I’m staying near the Pier. Can you recommend somewhere to eat?’

‘ If you like Italian there’s one near the Pier. My sister’s in fact. Her husband is Italian.

‘Its a two minute walk westwards from the Pier. Also,

there’s an Indian I go to but you’d need a car, so maybe not.’

‘I’ve got a car.’

‘As you’re on a bus, I’d thought you were on foot?’

‘Nostalgia thing. I wanted to take the bus ride for old times sake. I was hoping you’d be at the Bus Stop, joking there. I’m parked back at my old place. ‘

‘Does it look different?’

‘They concreted the garden, other than that no.’

‘People don’t seem to have the inclination to garden now do they?’

‘Would seem so and that’s sad.’

‘Its my stop. If you go to Luigi’s, sorry I don’t think I’d said the name before.. best book a table it gets busy, great atmosphere. So, mention you met me, Lucy.. ah but you already know my name, bit superfluous saying that. Nice to meet you, in a surreal way, nice but surreal.’

Notting Hill fan?’

‘Sorry?’

‘It was a line in the film of the same name. Surreal but nice.’

‘Ah yes, dear old Hugh. Well nice to meet you, sorry I don’t know your name?’

‘Mark Hyland. Plucked up the courage at last, only took about four decades or so.’

She laughed, went to put out a hand as she took her first step away and then didn’t.

‘Bye then, hope you enjoy the restaurant if you go.’

‘Thank you Lucy.’

She looked at him from the roadside as the bus departed, their eyes held each other’s gaze until out of sight.

He got off at the railway station and enquired what number bus would take him back the way he’d come. He found Luigi’s online and booked a table.

He walked into the restaurant and was asked if he’d booked, he replied he had and gave his name.

‘Oh yes, table for two.’

‘No. Just me.’

Overheard by a woman behind the nearby bar.’

‘You have company Mr.Hyland. ’

‘Who?’

‘I think you know the answer to that question.’

THE END