Queen

Queen of the Route

Mum, please, promise me you wont get upset, but starting next year, we might have a few problems. Well on the financial front, at least. Still, I doubt well be starving.

Oh, come on, dear, dont drag it outyou know I cant stand long-winded introductions.

I know, Mum. All right then, straight to the point: I quit my job. There you have it.

What? Did you leave of your own accord, or were you asked to go?

I decided myself. You know I like making my own decisions.

Yes, you get that from your father. I can just imagine what hed say now if he were still alive

Mum, look, look at those beautiful robins sitting on the tree opposite our window And Dad wouldve said, Its not the job that makes the person.

I was so proud of you, darling, so pleased you had such a positiona good salary, the head of arts and culture for the whole of the city. You were on the telly now and then, people looked at you as if you were royalty. You had their respect. Youre so stylish, elegant, lively

Mum, please, youre crying. My beauty isnt going anywhereits sticking with me.

At least tell me what happened, love? Why such a sudden decision? Come away from the window, youll catch a chill, and sit down here with me.

You see, Mum, I just see the world differently to the higher-ups. For them, the main thing is the reports, ticking boxespeople only matter when theyre making speeches. That doesnt sit right with me. Like they say in the divorce courts, irreconcilable differences.

All bosses want is well-filed reports and charts, no matter where you work. So what, now you wont even go to your own Christmas events?

Ill go, Mum. We put all the work into it as a team, after all. Ill just watch this time, as an ordinary person. Itll be fun, really.

Funhonestly! The chief of culture stands by the Christmas tree like everyone else now. Take me with you for moral support, at least!

I thought youd be sick of Christmas trees by now, Mum, after all those years at the nurserythe tree for each group, for the staffs children, for the staff themselves, for the nurserys branch

You forgot the childrens home we look after. Yes, my clever Emily, we have our stats toohow many children we reach with cultural activities. Mind you, cultural! But Id gladly come to your family Christmas do in the main park, just to see what you lot have come up with. You run family events, and yet here you are without a family. And now, no job either. Emily! Youll be forty soon! Still moonsick over Paul? King Paul! The first and last! Never even went to Vienna like he planned, playing his grand sax at the Opera! Saxophonist indeed!

Saxophonist, Mum. Adolphe Sax, Belgian, invented the thing almost two centuries ago.

Yes, yes as if I needed the reminder, being a music director myself! Still, I cant forgive him. He addled your brains so much that youve let no one else in all these years Youre not getting younger, Emily, my little queen. Mum wiped a tear from her cheek. A queen without a throne now! A single, ageing queen! Whatever would your father have said?

Mum, Dad wouldve said a womans like a good winegets finer with age. Please dont cry. Everything will work out.

Oh, he liked the ladies, did your father.

He loved you more than life itself, Mum. Didnt let your hand go till the end, always smoothing your fingers, even at the hospitalI remember.

I know, Em, I regret not telling him how much I loved him often enough. It always felt understood.

He always knew, Mum. And when you sang for him he couldnt take his eyes off you.

Mum began to sing softly, brushing away her tears:

And as the snow falls down and down,
The world awaits, so still, profound.
Beneath this snow, so pure, so white,
Id like to say, to all in sight
My dearest one, my guiding light,
See how the snow glows in the night.
Its clear, like what I cant say yet,
Like secrets in my heart are set.

Mum, every time I hear that song, I dream that on my birthday, in late April, itll snowand someone will sing just for me

Daughter, what about your job now? You have so much potential! What will you do?

Ill go work as a bus conductor, Mum.

Oh, come off it! Maybe you should talk to Edith from number thirty-six; she has contacts everywherethe council, the tax office, the housing tribunal, you name it.

Im serious, Mum. Ive decidedIm going to work as a conductor. You take the bus much?

Not often, but sometimes!

And what do you think of the conductors?

Well, not much! They wrap up in endless layers, wear sandals over woolly socks, then bellow, Fares, please! Move on down! All day, like a broken record. Oh, very creative.

You do the call so well: Fares, please! Just like a real conductor. I paused, Remember that time Dad came home roaring drunk from work? Hed been celebrating the opening of a new housing block with his colleagues, and you said youd never seen him so funny before. He told an old bus joke, I remember it to this day.

I cant recall it, what was it, Emily?

So, a thoroughly sloshed man boards a bus, sways on the back platform, barely holding on. The conductor comes up, stern as you please: Sir, your fare! And the man wobbles, makes a round with his fingers like a glass, and declares: Oh! For the fare!

Ah, Emily, if only I could ply your father with whisky just one more time, let him crack as many jokes as he wanted, just to have him here and alive again.

Mum, hes still with us, always. I hear his voice in my head: Its all in your mind, girls. Change the tune in your head and instead of a requiem, youll get a love song, a ballad, a jigwhatever you wish, on demand!

Emily, why didnt you ever change the tune for Paul, eh? He always had a chip on his shoulder, being the musician to your queen. Just like Gosha in London Tears! At least the film ended happily. But anyway, lets talk seriously. Where are you actually planning to work?

Im starting as a bus conductor, after the holidays, Mum. Right after.

No, Emily, you cant do that. Youve always had a touch of eccentricityyour own way of doing things, surebut this?! A conductor! Everyone in town knows you, you were on telly for years, and now youll be selling tickets on the bus. What would your father think?!

Im doing what Dad taught me. Remember that card he gave me for my eighteenth? I can still recite it: Remember, no one can choose for you. You must decide for yourself, take your life into your own hands. Otherwise, life will keep knocking at your door, but youll always be elsewhere.

Elsewhere? Where, Emily? On a city bus? Is this some sort of rebellion?

Yes, Ill be on a bus. And its a challenge, but to myself, Mum! My cultural manager told me to take off my crown, said Id got my head in the clouds, forgotten real life, that I hadnt been on public transport for ages, cut off from the people. He forgot, of course, that my driver broke his ankle before Christmas, so I took the bus and the tram for two weeks. So much for being out of touch!

Good heavens, you worked in the arts at such a level! And now the bus?

Yes, and Ill bring a bit of culture to buses and their workers too.

Mum sagged onto the sofa, massaging her temples. Well, daughter, your New Years news has bowled me overcompletely flattened me. One cultural blow, I tell you. Im seeing stars now.

Some great scientist once said that God has to bring us to our knees occasionally, or wed never look up at the sky. Look, Mum, at the sunvery rare in winter. The children have hung a feeder, see the blue tits and robins? And its started snowing again

I sang: And as the snow falls down and down, The world awaits, so still, profound

Our crazy Emily! You realise a conductor earns about a fifth what you used to get? Youll have me begging for support from Mr. Wallace on the second floor.

Mum, honestly, hes a good man. Retired colonel, widower, serious, responsible, very generous. I know, no one compares to Dad. But dont compare anyone. Dads always in our hearts. Its been nearly ten years, Mum

Emily, this isnt about me, its about you. Youll go mad with boredomno creative spark at all! Though, your father always said you could make anything fun, even if you swept the streets Why dont you take your redundancy pay and have a week in Dubai? Clear your mind, recharge?

Why dont we both go to Brighton on my compensation, Mum? The sea air will do us good!

My mobile rang just then. Mum sat up to listen in.
Yes. Fourth of January, Ill start on the route. My paperworks in with HR. Thank you.

Mum, sorry, so much for Dubai or Brightoncancelled!

*******

Bus number 7 finished its first journey across the city, right out to the eastern suburbs. Its a popular route, always full of passengers. Final stop.

Mr. Jenkins! May I use your microphone? Just like a tour guidesort of.

Got a new scheme, have you, love? Already decked the bus out in tinsel and baubles, changed the notices above my head to be more colourful, stuck todays quote in plain view. Whats the pearl of wisdom today?

A proverb, Mr. Jenkins!

Right, a proverb, then!

Its grand to take a journey down the road you choose for yourself!

Never a dull moment with you, Miss Emily. Lucked out with you, I did, at my age. Mind you, my mate Steve cant get used to you. Says sometimes hes terrified even to meet your gaze. He was floored when you gave him a new folder with the city crest for our paperwork. Decided it was a new eragot his wife to order him two T-shirts with the Union Jack from Amazon. He says we may be ferrying folk on these old buses, but were serving the people! Unusual, you are. Even your clothes look like a posh uniform. Steve swears hes seen you on TV or something before. He shook his head, laughing, I tell him, Looks like a singer, doesnt she? Best of all, he couldnt believe it when you printed our witticisms by our names above the drivers seat. Had us feeling like Aristotle, not just old busmen!

Youre our local Aristotles! I called back, grinning.

I read the plaques under the heading Drivers Thoughts for the Day:

– If youve nothing interesting to say on the phone, say it quietly. Jenkins David.

– If you wont give your seat to an old lady, Ill do it for you. Battersby Stephen.

True bus philosophy, I declared.

And we quote you, you know! Mind if we call you Emily now? Like you say: Its all in your mind. Change the tune and pick your song.

But thats my dads saying, not mine!

Speaking as if hes not here?

He died. He was a respected builder put up schools, bridges, homes. An accident on site. Passed away holding Mums hand in hospital.

Sorry, love thats fate. Mums still around?

She isstill at the nursery, music director. Actually, Mr. Jenkins, I wanted to play some music on the bus, bring some cheer. Id say a few words, then we could pop on some music, brighten everyones day.

Hmm, passengers are all sortssomeone finds it too loud, another moans about my radio, you know

I checked the guidelines, Mr. Jenkinsnowhere does it say music is forbidden, or how loud it should be. Its meant to improve the mood. Even Aristotle proved itmusic can calm or uplift everyone. I promise Ill pick tunes the passengers will enjoy. Maybe Ill do quick announcements for them too, but only when its not packed, so no one gets annoyed. Ready? May I?

The bus set off. At the terminal, passengers boarded, paid their fares, found their places and we were off I sat up front, took the battered old mic and, in my best stage voice, began:

Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome on board route seven, our citys longest bus route, starting from Forest Roadthe freshest air in town. Families often bus out here at weekends to stroll in the woodlands. In just fifteen stops, well reach the heart of town, at Bright Streetnamed for its Christmas lights, gleaming snow and festive banners. You can catch the winter fair or take children to a show at the puppet theatrejust hop off one stop before the centre. Guests, dont miss our famous timber museum over at Village Lane, thats two-thirds along our route. And, most of all, do join us for our Family Christmas Tree in Main City Park, on Garden Streethighly recommended! Have a wonderful journey and enjoy the festive season.

I finished, just as a cheeky young lad piped up: And whats on at the Star cinema, then?

I grinned. Youll need to change at the centre and catch bus one, another ten stops. Theyre showing Christmas Trees 15 this evening. But you might try ‘The Apollo’ theatre on this routethree screens, three films: ‘Christmas Trees 15,’ a modern fairy tale for adults, and a romantic drama Holiday Parcel.

I gave the mic back to Mr. Jenkins. He nodded, whispering, My wife and I will definitely come to the main park for the Family Tree. Is it true therell be a tombola and mulled wine?

Absolutely! I replied, smiling.

I bet youll think of something wild next, Emily. Will you get live music in the bus?

Thats my dream, Mr. Jenkins! Live music, at least for holidays. Maybe the folksy Brighton Trio would sing carols for us, or Ivan the guitarist can play on Dylan Dayhes a whiz at those folk songs. And a first-rate accordionist for Shrove Tuesday!

I rang Mum quickly to say, Mum, sorry, cant make the family party this year. Im on double shifts. Theyre short-staffed! No, the tree will go ahead, just without me. Take Mr. Wallace alonghell love it! You too! All right, love you, Mum. Were just heading out.

During the next few rounds, Id ask for the mic to tell passengers about new events as we passed theatres and galleries, always polite, never intrusive, inviting everyone to arts and fun all over town. Within a month, regulars on route 7 were spreading the word: the bus queen is something special.

***
Three months in, word had spread about the unusual conductor to almost everyone, including management.

Miss Hilton, boomed the manager, Mr. Baker, using his best stern voice, Ive asked you in for a chat. Im not sure this is the right job for you. Youre supposed to sell ticketsnot entertain passengers. I cant have complaints rolling in because you sing and talk your way through every trip.

With respect, Mr. Baker, Im grateful to speak with you about the quality of our service. I must thank you for hiring such exceptional driversMr. Jenkins and Mr. Battersby are outstanding, they deserve an award. And thank you for letting me bring a bit more than ticketingI call it a mini arts project for the company.

Mr. Baker, a large, awkward man, dabbed his brow, pausing his pacing, standing, sittingthen decided to be grand:

Of course, Miss Hilton, revenue for route seven has actually gone up. But people are differentsome dislike music, some hate chat, and there you all are, half a choir on wheels! Its not in the rulebook.

But nor is it forbidden, Mr. Baker! Your own guidelines say the conductor sells tickets and ensures the comfort of passengers.

Comfort is fine, but other conductors have started to complain.

They dont actually know meIve been on double shifts, havent had the chance to meet anyone yet.

Its not that! Hearing about your innovations, our two most senior conductors rode your route. They were shocked, straight to HRsaid you dont walk the aisle for fares, just announce it over the speakers, then sit up front like the Queen, shining up there and chattering. Youre supposed to be a conductor, not a tour guide.

I hummed a line from an old tune: If it isnt too late for us to stop, Conductor, take a pause I gave him a patient look, but didnt apologise.

Mr. Baker, I know youre busy, but let me remind you: the rules say the conductor cant demand fares or check ticketsjust offer tickets for sale if needed. Its on the passenger to pay straight away. Queen, they call me? My throne is right up by the front entrance. If theres a crowd, they pass their money or cards along the line and I assure them its safeafter all, I say, theres a camera in the bus, so if anyone tries to nab a card, theyll be spotted straight away!

But we havent got cameras! Thats just a fibisnt it, Your Majesty?

Im just inspiring them, encouraging good behaviour! Gives folk confidence. But really, maybe we should get camerasits standard everywhere these days.

Mr. Baker, suddenly thoughtful, asked quietly, You never walk down the bus?

I do, if someone needs helpa gran with her stick, or a mum with a pram, or a child in tears. But mostly, people come to me. Some dodge the fare at first, but after all my stories and songs, curiosity brings them up to the Queenand before you know it, theyve paid.

And do you love this city, Miss Hilton? Have you just moved here?

Just came back myself, after a divorce. So much has changeddoesnt even feel like the same place sometimes.

Exactly. The citys moving on. Why not tell people whats new? Most never hear about it otherwise. Im no tour guidejust a navigator, pointing out options for curious minds. If I might say so, you should see A Gentlemans Divorce at the local theatrea comedy. Might cheer you up.

Im sorry, Miss Hilton, I cant carry on this conversationIve got a meeting. But if you ever fancy inviting me to the theatre, I wont say no

********

The Queen-Conductor experiment rolled on through February and March. I even got a bonus for International Womens Day from Mr. Baker, and gave him theatre tickets for his day in returnthough I couldnt make it myself, working double shifts. Word of the Queen-Conductor spread across the company, but no one tried to follow suit. My colleagues mostly gossiped about the bus queen being a bit touched in the headwhat nonsense, making an effort for such a modest wage. Some even whispered that I had dozens of wealthy benefactorsbut the truth was, our only friend was Colonel Wallace from downstairs, who truly valued me and cared deeply for my mum.

********

28th April. Saturday. My birthday. Mum offered to cover for me, but I decided I’d rather work my favourite route, seeing familiar faces. I set out early for the depot, walking briskly on a rare cold spring morning, lost in thought. I do like the music and rhythm inside my head since leaving that title and the plush salary, I mused.

Then, miraculously, I saw white flakesa drift of snow in April! Just as Id wished since childhood. Snow settling in my hair, melting on my coata little bit of magic. The drivers had decorated the bus with paper snowflakes for me. Steve, on shift that morning, handed me chocolates and a brand new microphone: A queen deserves the best! I gave each driver a bottle of tonic and a book called My Britain.

It was a quiet day on the bus, only filling up near the heart of town. Suddenly, at the front, someone stepped on whose presence made my heart race and my hands tremble. Paulmy Paulthe only man I ever really loved. He held a saxophone case above his head, unable to pay fare, lost in concentration.

And, breaking with all my usual poise, I all but shouted, Please pay your fare! Theres CCTV in the bus! Mind the aisle, move on down! I scrambled up, trying to put space between me and those swirling feelings, heading for the back.

And thensuddenly, music. Real, vibrant saxophone. Paul played Andre Eschpais As the snow falls down, the world awaits filling the busand the secret chambers of the Queens heartwith music at long last.