Mum, now please dont panic, but after the New Year, we might have a bit of a situation, shall we say, on the financial front. But honestly, I reckon we wont starve.
Oh darling, dont keep me in suspense; you know Im not a fan of long introductions.
I know, Mum. Right, here it is: Ive resigned from my job.
What? Did you decide yourself, or did they force you out?
My decision. I like to make my own choices.
Just like your father. I can just picture what hed say right now if he were still with us.
Mum, look out the windowsee those lovely robins on the tree outside? Dad would say, its not the place that makes the person, love.
I was so proud of you, though, sweetheart. The job, that salary, your statusHead of the citys arts and culture. You were on telly all the time. People looked up to you like a proper queenadmired, respected, listened to. Youre beautiful, elegant, stylish.
Mum, dont get tearymy beauty isnt going anywhere. Itll stay right here with me.
At least tell me what happened. Why on earth such a sudden decision? Step away from the window, youll catch a chill. Come sit here with me.
You know, Mum, my perspective on life is just so different from the higher-ups. For them, its all about ticking boxes, meeting deadlines; they only talk about people when theyre on stage. I just cant do it. Like they say in court when a marriage breaks down: irreconcilable differences.
Well, darling, every jobs like thatbosses want numbers, plans, reports. So, does this mean you wont even go to your big Christmas events?
Oh, Ill go! The whole teams worked so hard. Ill just be in the audience this time. Feels a bit weird, to be honest.
Its not just a bit weird! The ex-head of culture, just loitering round the Christmas treetake me with you, at least. For moral support.
I thought youd had enough Christmas trees from your time at the nurseryone for every class, one for staff kids, one for staff, and then the branch nursery
Dont forget the childrens home. Yes, Lois, weve got our own performance indicatorsincluding how many kids we pile into cultural events. Note: cultural. But Id still love to come to your family Christmas tree in Victoria Park, see what youve come up with this year. You throw all these family events and youre still aloneno job now, either. Lois! Youre nearly forty! Still carrying a torch for your Paul? He wasnt Paul the First, hes likely the last! All those Vienna dreams, playing in the Vienna Opera! Typicalcalls himself a sexophonist
Saxophonist, Mum. Adolphe Sax, clever Belgian chap, invented that wonderful instrument nearly two centuries ago.
Are you seriously telling me that, to a music leader? Really, Lois! I cant forgive your saxophonisthes turned your brain to mush. You dont even make space in your heart for anyone else. Youre getting older, Lois, my queen. Mum brushed a tear away. A queen without her throne now! An ageing, unmarried queen! What would your dad say?
Hed say a womans like a good winethe older, the more exquisite. Please dont cry, Mum. Well be fine.
Well, your father did love women.
He loved you most out of everyone, Mum. Remember how in hospital he held your hand to the very last, stroked each finger? I saw you, then
I know, Lois, I beat myself up for not telling him enough how much I cared. Felt like it shouldve gone without saying.
Mum, he always felt your love, and when you sang, you could see how he adored you.
Mum began to sing, brushing away a tear:
And the snow falls down, it softly falls,
And everything waits for something more.
Beneath this snow, so hushed and white,
I want to say before you all,
My dearest one, look at this light.
Its pure, like all I leave unsaid,
Like all I wish Id said instead
Mum, that song tears right through me every time. Every birthday I dream that one April day, it will snow, and someone will sing that for me
Now, your jobwhats the plan? Youve got so much to give! Where will you go?
Im thinking of becoming a bus conductor, Mum.
All right, dont joke. Should I chat to Nina from 36? Shes got friends everywhere: council, tax office
Im serious. Ive decidedIm going to be a bus conductor. You use the buses, dont you?
Not often, but yes.
So, what do you think of the conductors?
Honestly? Indifferent. No presence, no gracemore layers than an onion, sandals over woolly socks, and all they do is shout, Move down the bus! Tickets, please! All right, lets gomove down the bus! Endlessly. Its hardly creative work.
Thats perfect! You do the Tickets, please! just right, Mum. Do you remember Dad coming home tipsy that one time, telling us that old bus joke? He never really drank, but I suppose they were celebrating the opening of a new housing block, and he was brought home, all merry and proud. You said youd never seen him quite so charming after a drink. Remember, Mum? Dads joke about the drunk on the busI still remember it.
I dont, Lois, what was it?
A man gets on, swaying and barely holding on. The conductor says sharply, Tickets, please, mate! The guy makes a toast gesture and slurs, Oh! To tickets, then!
Oh, Lois, if I could have a drink with your dad now, Id listen to a hundred silly jokes, just to have him here and alive.
Mum, he is with us, always. I hear his words all the time: Its all in your head, girls. Change your tune, and life will sing a ballad, not a requiem, a lullaby, or whatever you like!
Lois, why didnt you get Paul to change his tune, eh? He kept ondidnt like you being the queen, him the court musician. Like that character in the film Educating Rita. At least the film ended well! Anyway, lets get back to it seriouslywhere are you really going to work?
As a bus conductor, Mum. Im starting just after the Bank Holidays.
No, Lois, you cant mean it. Youve always been a little quirky, coming up with wild ideas, but this?! Everyone in Canterbury knows you, youve been on the local telly for years, and now you want to be a bus conductor. What would Dad say?
That Im doing what he advised. Remember the birthday card for my 18th? I have those words memorised, like a mantra: Remember: nobody else can make your decisions for you. Take your life into your own hands. Otherwise, life will keep knocking at your door while youre off somewhere else.
And wheres somewhere elsea double-decker on the high street? Is this your rebellion?
Yes, Ill be in a city bus, and yes, its a challenge to myself. My cultural boss said I needed to take off my crown, that Ive gotten a bit lost in daydreams, lost touch with real life, havent done the bus route with everyone else! But he forgot that my official driver broke his ankle, so I spent two weeks on buses right before Christmas. Saw plenty, believe me!
Heavens, all your culture experience, reduced to this?!
Ill bring some culture to urban transport, Mum.
Mum slumped on the sofa, rubbing her temples. Lois, you really do knock me for six with these New Year revelationsa proper cultural bombshell.
Someone clever once said if God didnt sometimes knock us flat, wed never look up at the sky. Mum, look! Its rare winter sun today. Kids have hung up feeders for the robins and blue tits. Its even snowing
Lois started to sing: And the snow falls down, it softly falls
Youre a madwoman, darling Lois! The conductors pay is about a fifth of what you used to earn. At this rate, I might just accept help from Colonel Wilkinson downstairs.
Mum, hes actually all right. Retired military, widower, reliable and generous. I know, no one compares to Dad, but hes been gone nearly ten years now
Olivia! Enough about me, this is about you. Youll be bored stiff therenothing creative about it! Then again, your dad did say youd find something to invent even if you were sweeping the streets Perhaps a little holidaywhy not head to Brighton, splash out on your unused holiday pay? Figure out what you want as you recharge.
How about we go together? Treat you to Brighton with my pay-off, Mum?
Her phone rang just then. Mum listened in.
Lois answered calmly, Yes, Ill start my route on the 4th of January. My papers are all with HR now. Thank you.
Mum, scrap Brightonwere needed here!
*******
Bus number 7 had just finished its first trip across Canterbury, right to the eastern suburbs, always running busy. End of the line.
Mr. Thompson! Is it all right if I use your microphone? Like a tour guide, sort of.
Up to your old tricks again, eh, love? Youve already decked out the bus with tinsel and baubles. Colourful little posters above my head. Passengers get quotes of the day, right where everyone can see. Whats todays gem?
Aphorism, Mr. Thompson!
Thats it, an aphorism!
Its a good road, when its one you picked yourself!
Honestly, Mrs. Williams, you liven things up for an old driver like me. My shift mate, Charlie, is still getting used to youhe says hes a touch nervous you might spot him slacking! He was gobsmacked when you gave him a new folder with a Union Jacksaid its a new era. Got his wife to order him a couple of t-shirts with the national crest. We may drive an old Routemaster, but were true Brits driving real citizens! Youre not exactly typical. The uniform, the shoes, the glassesCharlie says you look like someone off the telly. I told him, must be an actress! Especially that thing you did with our names and our own quotes underneathfelt like Aristotle, just fooling around.
You ARE the local Aristotles, Mr. Thompson! Lois put on her best tour guide voice and read the two signs under the header Reflections from your drivers:
Speak quietly on your phone, or at least say something interesting! – D. Thompson, Bus Company 1.
If you wont give up your seat for an old dear, I will – C. Brown, Bus Company 1.
True philosophy for the ages, Lois grinned.
And we quote you back! Can I just say, Change the tune in your head, and youll have a merry song any day.
Thats my dads mantra, not mine, Mr. Thompson.
Ah, past tenseis he?
He was a builder, bridges and schools and all sorts. Died young, working. Mum still works at the local nursery as the music teacher. But Mr. Thompson, I wanted your okay to play music on the busjust in the background sometimes, for the mood. Maybe a little chat on the mic first, then some music?
You know, love, people are fussytoo loud, too soft, dont like that one
Ive checked, Mr. Thompson. Regulations dont forbid music in the bus, so long as its not a nuisance. It should cheer people up, not annoy them. Aristotle himself said music sets the moodcalms or excites, you know. Ill pick tunes to suit everyone, promise. And Ill only use the mic for quick announcements, not during rush hour. Shall we try it?
The bus set off. At the next stop, people clambered in, paid fares, took their seats, ready for the journey from the east end toward the city centre. Lois perched by the driver, gripped the microphone, and began, Dear passengers, youre riding on Canterburys longest, most bustling bus route. We start from Oak Avenuea breath of fresh air, a trip people make with their families. In fifteen stops, youll see the city centreLight Street, especially bright in winter from snow, Christmas lights, and all the shop decorations. Our lovely city awaits you; check out the festive market in the centre, winter shows at the puppet theatrejust off before the town hall. Visitorsdont miss the historic timber-framed heritage museumhop off at Village Road, two thirds along. And do come to the big family event at Victoria Park for our Old New Years party on Garden Lane. Youll love it. Enjoy your ride and have a magical holiday!
She finished just as a young lad piped up, You got any films on at the Odeon for us? Lois, quick as a flash, replied, Not directly, lovehop off at the centre, take the number 1 for ten stops, and youll get there. The Odeons showing Elf 15 today, but Id recommend Star Cinema right on our routethree screens, loads of choice, including a grown-up fairy tale and a winter romance.
Mr. Thompson whispered, Were taking the missus and the grandkids to Victoria Park this year. Is it true about the raffle and the mulled wine? Lois winked, Absolutely.
He grinned, Feel like youre not done yetanother wild plan in the works, I can tell.
Id love to have proper live music in the bus sometimes, just for holidaysmaybe a local folk trio for Christmas, or my mate Ivan who does impeccable Johnny Cash covers, for the Bards birthday. Theres even a brilliant accordionist, ready for Pancake Day.
Later, Lois rang her mum, Sorry, Mum, cant make the family partyIve got back-to-back shifts. Staff shortages! You and Colonel Wilkinson should go together, youll have a ball. All the love, Mumwere off on our rounds.
***
Lois soon became a fixture on the route. Every loop around Canterbury, shed borrow the mic, announcing nearby museums, inviting people to pantos and concerts. She was always polite, never pushy, almost persuasive. After a month, nobody batted an eye at the entertaining conductor and news of her spread right round the city.
***
Three months in and word had reached upstairs.
Mrs. Williams, said Andrew Jenkins, the manager of Bus Company 1, a little too sternly. You seem overqualified for this job. Were here to collect fares, not host tours and gigs! Wont customers start complaining?
Mr. Jenkins, Im grateful to chat about passenger experience. Your drivers, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Brown, are wonderfulgive them a pay bonus if you ask me. Thanks for letting me culturise Canterbury, too. Consider my little tours and singalongs an innovative project for the company.
Jenkins, all red in the face, shuffled, wiped his brow, then said grandly, Well, the fares on your route havent gone downif anything, theyre up! Still, some folk dont like all the music and jollityits not in the handbook!
Well, its not forbidden either, Mr. Jenkins! The rulebook says conductors ensure safety and comfort for all passengers!
Comforts great, but now your colleagues are muttering. Two of the old hands did a trip with youthey were gobsmacked! Came running to HRsaid you just sit there like the Queen, never go down the bus, just shout into the micTickets, please! as if youre running a sightseeing tour.
Lois muttered under her breath, If were not too late, please, conductor, hit the brakes She smiled at him and carried on, Mr. Jenkins, youre busy, but just a reminder: the rules say a conductor cant force fares or check ticketsthats on the passenger. If folk call me the Queen, well, my rule is this: everyone gets on at the front, where I am, and off at the back. When its quiet, fares are paid immediately. When its packed, people send cards or coins up the line. I assure them, passing your bank card is safetheres a camera in the bus, and if anyone acts dodgy, well know!
But we dont have cameras! Are you seriously fibbing, Queenie?
Im just dreaming big for the greater good! Though, honestly, security cameras should be everywhere by now.
Jenkins said,
So, you never go down the bus?
Of course I dosometimes to help an old lady or give a tissue to a crying child, or help someone with a buggy. But mostly, passengers come to mecurious to check out the so-called queen up front. And when they do, I chat, sing, they laugh, and usually pay up. Mr. Jenkins! May I askdo you actually like our city? Been here long? Not seen you much on local social media.
I just moved backsplit up with my wife, wanted to come home. So much has changed! I barely recognise the place.
Exactlylots of good things happening. Why not tell folk? They hardly have time to check for themselves. Im not a tour guidemore of a town navigator. Id recommend you take in A Gentlemans Divorce at the Marlowe Theatreguaranteed to lift your spirits.
Mrs. Williams, sorry, Ive a meeting now. But if you invite me to the theatre, I just might say yes
********
Her little Queen-Conductor experiment just kept going. Lois even received an 8th March bonus from Andrew Jenkins, and gave him a double-theatre ticket for the 23rd, though she couldnt joinshe was pulling double shifts. Her approach became legend on the route, but no one else copied her; other conductors mostly called her nuts for doing extra on such a small wage. Rumour had it she had armies of rich sponsors, when in truth, her only real benefactor was Colonel Wilkinsonwho loved her mum, and genuinely cared for Lois.
********
April 28th, Saturday. Loiss birthday. Mum suggested she take the day off, but Lois chose the route she loved. Early that morning she left the house, walking briskly to the depot, enjoying the bracing cold. She mused, she loved the music in her head these dayseven after leaving her fancy, well-paid job. Suddenly, flakes of snow floated down, dusting her birthday hairdo. April snow was her childhood wish! The flakes melted instantly, but to see them falling at all well, there was real magic in the air. In high spirits, Lois hopped on the bus, which the drivers had decorated with paper snowflakesCharlie was at the wheel that day, and he handed her a box of fudge and a spanking-new microphone: A queen deserves the finest! She gave them each a bottle of health tonic and a book, My England.
It was a quiet day on the bus. Only when they reached the city centre did the bus fill up. Suddenly, through the front, stepped a man that made Loiss heart skip a beather Paul, the only one shed ever truly loved. His saxophone case was held aloft, so he couldnt pay at once. As if in a trance, forgetting all the clever lines, Lois shouted without the mic, Tickets, please! Theres CCTV! Move right down, thank you! She leapt up and, as if running from her own feelings, squeezed toward the back. Suddenly live music floated throughthe beautiful, heart-stirring sound of Pauls saxophone playing And the snow falls down right there on bus number 7, filling the space and the Queens heart alike with magic.
