Queen of the Route
Mum, please dont worry, but with the new year coming, we might be in for a bit of trouble you know, financially. But I dont think well starve.
Dont keep me in suspense, love. You know I cant stand a long-winded preamble.
I know, Mum. Right, to the pointIve left my job. There.
What? Did you quit or did they give you the boot?
I quit. I like making my own decisions.
I know, you take after your father. I can just imagine what hed say right now if he were still with us.
Mum, look, look at those robins in the tree across from our window Dad would just say, Its not the place that makes the person.
I was so proud of you, darling, with your job, your salary, your standing. You were head of culture for the whole town. You were always on the telly. People looked at you like you were a queen, admired you, respected you. Youve always been lovely, smart and stylish.
Mum, dont, youre starting to tear up. My looks arent going anywhere, I promise.
At least say what happened? Why was this so sudden? Step away from the window, youll catch a chill. Sit with me.
You see, Mum, I just dont see life the way my bosses do. For them, its all about reports and deadlinesthey only talk about people when theyre on the podium. I dont want to be like that. As they say in court when couples divorce: irreconcilable differences.
Love, bosses everywhere want reports and results. So what now? Are you really not going to any of your winter events this year?
Ill go, Mum, of course. We all prepared as a team. Ill just be in the crowd, for a change. Itll be fun, I suppose.
Fun, she says! The head of town culture just standing by the Christmas tree. Take me along, at least. Ill be your support.
I thought you were done with Christmases at the nursery: one for every class, for the staffs kids, for the staff themselves, for the nursery branch
Dont forget the one for Little Acorns, our sponsored childrens centre. Mum gave a sad chuckle. Yes, Pippa, we have our own targetshow many children join in with the cultural events. Not just any events, mind you, cultural ones! But Id go to your Christmas family day in the Main Town Park, I really would. You organize the festivities for families, but youre without family yourself. And now without your job. Pippa! Youre nearly forty! Are you still pining after your Peter? Peter the First! Or should I say the Last He never did leave town for London, like hed hoped, to play the saxophone in the West End. Some musician!
Saxophonist, Mum. Adolphe Sax, Belgian inventor, nearly two hundred years back.
And youre telling me, a music instructor? Oh, Pippa! I can never forgive that saxophonisthes muddled up your head for years. Youve not let anyone else close to you. Youre getting older, my queen. Mum dabbed away a tear. A queen without a throne! A single, aging queen! What would your father say now?
Mum, Dad would say a woman is like winethe older, the more refined. Dont cry. Itll all be all right.
Yes, your father loved women.
He loved you most of all, Mum. Right till the very end, he never let go of your hand, stroked your fingers. I saw, in the hospital
I know, Pippa. I do wish Id told him more often I loved him. I sort of thought it just went without saying.
Mum, Dad always knew, especially when you sang to him. He couldnt take his eyes off you.
Then, softly, Mum began singing, dabbing away her tears:
And the snow falls, and the snow falls,
Everything seems to wait for something.
Under this snow, this gentle snow,
Let me say for all to hear:
My most precious one,
Lets look together at this snow.
Its pure as all my silent wishes,
All I want to say.
Mum, that song gets me every time. Every year on my birthday at the end of April I long for a snowfall, just once, and for someone to sing to me like that.
Enough. Now, what are you going to do about work? Youve got such amazing potential! Where will you go?
Ill be a bus conductor, Mum.
Dont joke! Speak to Julie in flat thirty-six, shes got connections everywherecouncil, tax office, legal advice, housing inspector
Im serious. Im going to conduct on the buses. You ever take the bus?
Not that often but I do.
And what do you think of the conductors?
Oh, well, you knowneither here nor there. Not exactly charming! Layers and layers of jumpers, woolly socks with sandals, shouting Tickets please! Move down the bus! Tickets please! Very creative job, eh?
Youre funny, MumTickets please! Thats exactly their tone. Do you remember when Dad came home once completely tipsy, after celebrating a new estate that opened? That was the only time hed had a drink, came in all jolly. You said youd never seen him so silly before. He told us the bus jokeremember?
No, what was it, Pippa?
A drunken man boards a bus, staggers on the back platform, barely holding the rail. The conductor glares at him, snaps, Your fare, please! The man raises his fingers like hes toasting a drink, solemnly proclaims, Oh! To your fare!
Oh Pippa, Id buy him a drink now, let him tell any jokes he liked, if only he were here with us.
He always is, Mum. I hear his voice every day: Everything, girls, happens up here. He used to say, Change your tune, and life will play you not a requiem but a serenade, a ballad, or any old song you fancy!
And why didnt you get your Peter to change his tune? He didnt like you being a queen and him just a court musician. Reminds me a bit of that film Brief Encounterbut at least that ended happily! Anyway, enough about him. Seriously, where are you going to work?
Conducting on the bus, Mum. First shifts after Christmas.
Pippa, dont be ridiculous. Youve always been a bit different, but this is a stretch! Everyone in town knows you! Youve been on the news! Now youll be a conductor? Heaven knows what your Dad wouldve said.
Im following his advice. Remember what he wrote in my 18th birthday card? I can pretty much recite it: Remember: no one else can make decisions for you. You must decide for yourself and take life in your own hands. If not, life will keep knocking, and youll never be homealways out somewhere else.
What, in a town bus? Is that your message to the world?
Yes, in a town bus. To myself, more than anything! My culture chief said I should take off the crownthat Id gotten too carried away, lost touch, too far removed from real life, hadnt taken public transport in ages. Hed forgotten my work driver broke his leg, and I was taking the bus and tram for two weeks before Christmas. I saw plenty of real people!
My word, after all your posts in the arts and now a conductor?!
Yes, Ill bring culture to the bus, passengers and drivers alike.
Mum leaned back on the sofa, rubbing her temples.
Youve floored me, darling, with this New Years announcement. Absolutely floored.
Someone once said that if God didnt tip us over sometimes, wed never look up at the sky. Mum, look outthose rare winter rays, the kids hanging up a feeder, the finches and blue tits, and now Pippa started singing: And the snow falls, and the snow falls, and everything seems to wait
Youre mad, you know! Conductors earn five times less than you used to get. Ill have to accept help from Colonel Williams on the second floor now.
Mum, hes a good man. Retired army. Widower. Serious, responsible, generous. I know, nobody can compare to Dad, but dont compare: Dads always with us, even if hes been gone nearly ten years.
Hazel! Were talking about you, not me. Youll be bored stiff as a conductor! No creativity. Still, your father always said put you anywhere, and youll invent something. Perhaps you should take your holiday pay and jet off for a weekthink about the meaning of life in Dubai?
Or how about we both head to Brighton for a bit, Mum? Use my holiday payout?
Then Pippas phone rang. Mum straightened herself, eavesdropping as Pippa answered quietly, Yes, Ill start my route on the 4th. Yes, my papers are with the admin office. Thank you.
Mum, sorryno Dubai, no Brighton for us!
*******
Bus number 7 finished its morning loop from the west end to the eastern edge of town: always a busy route, always packed. End of the line.
Mr. Burton! May I use your microphone, please? Like a sort of tour guide?
Up to something again, love? Youve already decked out the bus with streamers and tinsel. Refreshed the notices above my head. Famous quotations, latest in plain sight. Whats todays wisdom for the passengers?
Aphorism, Mr. Burton!
Thats the one, Aphorism!
The best path to be on is the one you choose yourself!
Youre a laugh, Miss Hazel. Not bad to have a conductor like you at my age. Trouble is, my shift partner Mr. Trower can’t get used to you. Says hes nervous every time youre around. Was stunned when you gave him that new document wallet with the Union Jack on it, and suggested filing our papers in it. Said its a new era. Got his wife to order two shirts with the British flag. Says, We may be driving an old Routemaster, but were carrying proper Brits, real people! You, Miss Hazel, are something special. Even your clothes look like a uniform! Trower said hes sure hes seen you somewhere before. I keep telling him, You look like an actress! But he was most floored when you wrote down our best quips and put them up for everyone to see. We nearly felt like Socrates, and we were just messing around.
You are our local philosophers, Mr. Burton. Look at how you can turn banter into wisdom!
Relaxing in her conductors chair beside the driver, Hazel read aloud the two quotes now hanging under Drivers Musings:
Speak softly on your phone or at least make it interesting! Mr. Burton, Bus Driver, Town Number 1.
If you dont give your seat to an elderly woman, I will! Mr. Trower, Bus Driver, Town Number 1.
Timeless philosophy, truly, Hazel declared.
We quote you, too! May I call you Hazel? What is it you sayIts all in your mind. Change your tune, and youll hear whatever song you like!
Thats my fathers words, Mr. Burton, not mine.
Why past tense? Has he passed?
He died. He was a respected builderhomes, bridges, schools. Site accident. Passed away holding Mums hand.
Sorry, Hazel. Mustve been fate. Is your mum well?
She is. Music instructor at the nursery. Speaking of, Id like us to have music in here. I could say a few words over the mic, then play some music for passengers.
Not sure, Hazel, passengers are a mixed bunch. Some like it quiet; some dont want music at all
I checked the regulations, Mr. Burtonnothing says we cant play music, nor how loud it can be. Of course, it shouldnt disturb anyone. Actually, Aristotle said music can shape moods. Ill pick tracks everyone will enjoy, youll see. And Ill only make important announcements on the mic; not at rush hour. Let me trymay I?
The bus rolled. At the end of the line, new passengers boarded, paid, found seats, and off they went towards the town centre. Hazel sat up front and took the worn-out microphone, projecting confidently: Good morning, passengers! Were travelling the longest and busiest route in town, starting from Elm Street. By the way, Elm neighbourhood has the freshest airmany families come out here for lovely walks. The centre is in fifteen stops: Sunny Street, rightfully namedits the brightest place in winter, with white snow and Christmas lights. Dear friends, our town is wonderful, especially at this time: pop off just before the centre to visit our Christmas market, or take your children to see the winter panto. If youre new here, dont miss our Open Air Museuma couple of thirds down the route, on Village Street. And, of course, youre invited to the Family Christmas Tree in the Main Town Park on Orchard Road, celebrating Old New Years. Dont miss it! Have a great trip, and a happy and eventful holiday!
Hazel finished, handed back the mic, but a cheeky young man piped up, Can you tell us whats on at the Odeon as well? Without missing a beat, Hazel replied, You cant get to Odeon by our bus, sir, but change in the centre to Bus 1 and go ten stops. Today theyre screening Christmas Trees 15. Id suggest The Star, just along this routestop called Star Cinema. Three screens, three films: Christmas Trees 15, an adult fairytale, and a touchy winter romance, The New Year Parcel.
The driver smiled: My wife and I will come to the Christmas Tree. Is it true youll have a raffle and mulled wine? Hazel grinned, Absolutely! Mr. Burton replied, Youre always coming up with something, Hazel! Whats next? Hazel shared, I dream of live music in the bus, at least for the holidays. Maybe the Merry Minstrels trio can sing for us at Christmas. For Burns Night, Ill invite John with his guitar. Hes brilliant. And for Pancake Day, I know a great accordion player. Hazel called her mum: Mum, sorry, I cant make the family Christmas Tree. Im working a double shift. Staff shortages! The partys going ahead, but without me. Go with Mr. Williamshell be over the moon! And you might be too! Love you, Mum. Were departing.
Throughout her shift, Hazel kept borrowing the microphonenot that the driver used it; the stops played automatically. As she passed each theatre or art centre, Hazel would tell passengers what was new, inviting them to cultural events. Warm, relevant, never overbearing. Within a month, regulars on Route 7 were no longer surprised. Word spread quickly of the remarkable conductor.
***
Three months later, the fame of this storyteller-conductor was well knownespecially among management.
Miss Hazel, said Andrew Marshall, the stern manager of Town Bus Company 1, Please come in. I asked for you because, frankly, I think youre misplaced here. Your job is to sell tickets. Instead, youre chatting away, entertaining with songs and stories! Were bound to get complaints.
Mr. Marshall, Im honoured youve taken time to talk about passenger service. Thank you for such professional driversMr. Burton and Mr. Trower are top class and deserve recognition. Also, thanks for letting me add a dash of culture to daily commutes. Think of my little bus gigs as an innovative outreach for your company.
Mr. Marshall, big-boned and awkward, fidgeted, wiped sweat from his brow, sloshed himself some water, stood, sat, stood again, and then blustered, True, takings are up. But not everyone appreciates music or chatter. Some find it intrusive nothing says you can!
Nor does it forbid it, Mr. Marshall. The rules you approved say conductors ensure not just ticketing, but safety and passenger comfort.
Comfort, granted. But now other conductors are complaining about you.
They dont know me at allI havent met anyone, as I work doubles.
Thats precisely the point! The two most senior conductors took a ride on your route, came straight to the office to complain. You dont go up to passengers for fares; you just announce it on the mic. Apparently you sit by the driver all regal, waffling away, running some sightseeing tour. You were hired as a conductor, not a guide.
Hazel quietly hummed, If only we can make a stop in time, conductor, please press the brakes She eyed her boss with a gentle smilehe was clearly overwhelmedbut stayed calm yet firm.
Mr. Marshall, forgive me, but your own handbook says conductors cant force passengers for fares, nor are they permitted to check tickets. They can sell one when asked. Its up to the passenger to pay promptly. Now, about my so-called thronemy colleagues failed to mention the rules in our bus: everyone boards at the front, greets me as I reign by the driver, and exits at the back. If its quiet, they pay me before heading down the aisle. If its busy, they simply pass coins or cards forward. I reassure everyone that cards are safe, as theres a security cameraanyone with foul play would be found in a flash!
We dont have any cameras. Youre fibbing now?
Im inspiring confidence, imagining a safer future. All to make sure everyone pays their fare. Perhaps its time we had camerasit’s the norm everywhere now.
Mr. Marshall considered this, then said quietly: You really never walk the bus?
I do sometimesif Mrs. Grundy needs help down, or someone with a pram, or if a childs in tears. Otherwise, people come to me. Some curious soul, trying to sneak a free ride, always wants to see this queen at the front. Amid my stories or songs, they end up paying. Mr. Marshall, may I ask: do you love our town? Lived here long? Not much about you on Facebook
I came back recently, after a divorce. Things have changed, cant even recognise the place.
Exactly. Its getting better, too, and people ought to know! Im not a guide, just a signpostshowing a way to local culture and leisure. And may I recommend our playhouses The Dignified Divorce? A comedy, for your spirits.
I cant talk now, Hazel, I have a meeting. But if you ever invite me to the theatre, I wouldnt say no
********
Hazels Queen Conductor experiment continued. She even got a Womens Day bonus. She sent Mr. Marshall two tickets to the play for his birthday, even though she couldnt go, busy with another double. Everyone in the depots had heard of the Route 7 Queen though none followed in her footsteps. Most drivers, gossiping about the bus queen, twirled their fingers at their heads and exclaimed she must be crackedno one else would bother for such a low wage. Some spread rumours that her dozens of sponsors kept her going, not knowing her only real supporter was retired Colonel Williams from their block, who valued Pippa greatly and was devoted to her mum.
********
April 28th. Saturday. Hazels birthday. Her mum begged her to take a day off. Hazel preferred her usual shift, among her regulars. Early morning, she walked briskly through the frosty air to the depot, feeling an odd happiness. Melodies and rhythms now coursed through her mind, more freely than in her days as a boss. Suddenly, to her amazement, white snowflakes began to drift downher lifelong birthday wish, granted at last. The snow quickly melted, but its fragile dance felt magical.
Arriving at her bus, Hazel found it decorated with white snowflakes by her drivers. Mr. Trower, on shift today, presented her a box of chocolate and a shiny new microphone, A queen deserves the best! In return, she gave them each a bottle of herbal cordial and a book called My England.
That Saturday wasnt busy, with the bus filling up mainly in the town centre. Although, as the crowd filed in, someone entered by the fronta man whose presence made Hazel shiver, her heart pounding. It was himher Peter, the only man shed ever loved. Carrying his instrument case, unable to pay straight away, he stood, waiting.
For a moment, Hazels conductors poise left her. She raised her voice, Tickets please! Theres a security camera! Move to the middle of the bus! She rushed to the back, as if trying to hide her feelings.
And then Hazel heard live music. Peter, her Peter, let the soulful sound of his saxophone fill the bus with the melody from And the snow falls, and the snow falls
***
In the end, Hazel realisedno title, no role or routine can sum up a persons worth, or dictate the shape of their happiness. Sometimes you have to change lanes, leave your throne, and let lifes true melody surprise you. And always, always remember: the heart finds its way home best when we are brave enough to choose our own path.
