TODAY, OUR AMAZING TEAM MEMBER, AUTHOR DAWN TREACHER, SHARES WITH US HER HEART-WARMING, SHORT STORY, 'NOT IN SERVICE'.

Picture credit: Kevin Grieve on Unsplash

NOT IN SERVICE

A swathe of fog swirled around the bus shelter, smudging the houses that huddled against the November chill. I fumbled for my ticket that was wedged somewhere in my back pocket between my phone and a packet of chewing gum. My bus was already fifteen minutes late and the thought of walking the two miles home had done nothing to improve my mood. The check out had been tediously busy all afternoon, anyone would have thought they were bringing in food rationing. The headache that had plagued me since lunchtime now felt like someone was playing the bongo drums inside my head.

Out of the fog came the familiar shape of the double decker though the fog was so thick I couldn’t read the destination board. What other bus could it be on Otlington High Street? This part of the town wasn’t exactly well served with buses. It had long since grown dark so I frantically waved the light on my phone. I was more than relieved when the bus pulled up to the stop and opened its doors. There was something about the driver that seemed familiar. He reminded me of my granddad, in his profile. I smiled, remembering the man who had been more of a dad to me than my real dad. But the driver dismissed my proffered ticket and nodded with his head for me to sit down. The doors shut, the bus already on its way, rather faster than I had anticipated. I flung myself down in the nearest seat and it was only then that I realised I was the only passenger on board which was odd for a Wednesday.

I cleaned the window with my hand and looked out. Shadows hugged the pavement, the fog now shrouding them like a heavy blanket. I was sure the bus should have stopped again by now but it was hurtling through the darkness. I couldn’t make out the streets of houses nor the parade of shops. I couldn’t even see their lights and if I hadn’t been imagining it the bus felt like it was climbing up a steep hill, though there were no hills in Otlington. In fact, I was more and more convinced I wasn’t on the right bus at all.

I hung onto the back of the seat in front of me, pulled myself up and edged my way towards the driver but the steeper the bus climbed the harder it was to hang on. With horror I realised the bus wasn’t climbing because it wasn’t on the ground at all. Peering out of the window I could see we were travelling above the fog now. Headlights of cars were snaking their way through the darkness below.

We were flying, flying in a bus! I wanted to scream but my voice was in hiding and my heart threatened to explode, it was beating so fast.

“Do sit down,” called out the driver.

“But we’re...where are we…?” Even trying to force my words wasn’t making them flow.

“We’re heading for Not In Service and we won’t be there for a while yet.”

Not in service? What was he talking about? “I thought you were heading for the Manor Road in Hinchley.”

“Then why did you flag me down? It clearly says Not in Service on the front of this bus. Can’t you read?” “Of course...what….but we’re flying….”

The driver leaned his head out into the aisle to look at me. “We have to fly, how else do you expect us to get there?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, how could I? I wasn’t asleep or drunk, though I wished I was, and I was pretty certain I wasn’t dead. We were a long way up so either I was going crazy or we really were flying and who had ever heard of a place called Not In Service?

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“Don’t even bother,” called the driver. “There ain’t no service up here, not where we’re going.”

“But where are we going?” My brain just couldn’t compute any of this. Why should it? It was weird, no, it was more than weird and if I hadn’t been on a bus heading to Not in Service I wouldn’t have believed it either.

“Are you visiting anyone in particular?” said the bus driver.

It was then that the horrific thought first occurred to me, maybe this wasn’t a bus driver after all but some deranged serial killer; some futuristic psychopath. He clearly wasn’t talking any sense.

“No!” I shouted. “I’m not visiting anyone because no one lives up in the sky, do they? I’m trying to get home, back to my miserable ready meal,to watch some mindless drivel on the telly before going to bed. Only now, you’ve kidnapped me.”

“I haven’t done any such thing. How dare you say that.”

The bus driver leaned even further into the aisle of the bus, his neat grey hair parted in the middle, his face just like all the other bus drivers; no piercing eyes or strange facial scars. In fact, he looked kind and sweet, like my granddad.

“Why stop my bus if you aren’t visiting anyone?”

Well he may look normal but he wasn’t sounding like it. How could I possibly be visiting anyone up there, wherever that was. If we went any higher we could be struck by a plane minding its own business on the way back from the Costa del Sol.

“Well you’d better decide who you want to see before we arrive. I have a tight schedule to meet and I can’t be late back.”

Falling back into my seat I peered out of the window. Well I couldn’t jump out, that much was clear and I couldn’t make the driver crash either; wasn’t that what they suggested you tried to do when locked in a car with a psychopath? So instead I decided to engage my potential killer in conversation.

“Who do people usually visit?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep calm.

“To be honest, we don’t get many passengers on this route. Those we do get tend not to want to say. Well, it’s rather personal isn’t it, private, you know.”

But I didn’t know, did I? I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I checked my mobile phone and sure enough I had no service.

“We’ll be there in five minutes and I can only stop for twenty. If you don’t mind, I’ll pay a little visit myself today, it’s been a while since I was on this run and my Mabel would love to have a chat.”

His Mabel? Mabel who? How could she be up here, it looked completely empty. Of course I thought those words too soon because a tiny silver pathway appeared in front of us, not unlike guiding lights on a landing strip and we were heading straight for it. A large dark mass of cloud hung above it and and we were speeding so fast I was sure we were about to crash. A brilliant silver light swallowed us up. I closed my eyes and held my breath.

When I opened them again we weren’t in the sky at all and it wasn’t dark either and it wasn’t even November. In fact, we were driving through a sweeping park, under a spring blue sky dotted with skudding white clouds. The bus drove along a road that weaved through an avenue of flowering trees. Beside the road stood a bus stop and at the stop stood a bench. A woman sat at one end, her white hair piled up upon her head, a rosy glow in her cheeks as if she had just walked a long way. She waved as the bus came to a stop.

“Best think of someone, it gives them a chance to get to the bus stop in time. Mabel’s as beautiful as the day I married her. If you’ll excuse me,” said the bus driver. “I’ll be back soon. Mabel loves to walk around the lake.”

At this point I should have been relieved that I wasn’t going to die but instead I was just so astounded at what I was seeing that I felt as though my brain had gone all soggy.

“Mabel...is she your wife?”

The bus driver turned as he stepped off the bus. “She was, for fifty years and I couldn’t manage alone without her if I didn’t get to walk around the lake every once in a while.”

“But...is she...you know...”

“Dead? Of course she’s dead, what’s why we’re here. Why are you here?”

“Because I thought it was the 640 bus that would take me home.”

The bus driver took Mabel’s hand and walked away from me. Turning back he smiled. “ I’m ever so sorry, I never thought to check. It would be a shame to miss the chance, there must be someone you’d like to see?

Then the driver waved his hand and he and Mabel headed across the park. I watched them walking hand in hand and that’s when the thought of Granddad popped into my head. I’d cried so much last summer when he’d slipped away rather too suddenly and unannounced.

I sat down on the bench. The air was warm on my face and cherry blossom wafted on the breeze.

“Fancy seeing you here?”

I turned to see Granddad sitting next to me, the same gentle face and big grin that I always loved.

“I caught the wrong bus,” I said, which of course was true but was so very inadequate.

Granddad just laughed. “Well I’m very glad you did.”

**********

COMING SOON: On Wednesday, 28th May, we have author, Tanith Davenport, who is sharing an excerpt from her novel, 'Totality'.