People you see on the bus
It's Monday. He's halfheartedly rushing for work which means he forgot most of his lunch and he walked very fast to the bus stop and missed one by a whisker. He could walk to the other bus stop but really he can't be bothered and he'd probably still be late. So now he's waiting in a line of other people who missed the previous bus, all who look slightly disgruntled. The rain is falling in an irritating mist and he can tell that by the time he gets to his office his coat will be soaked through.
His attention is caught by a high pitched squeal and his heart inwardly sinks. Not only does he absolutely have to catch the next bus but there is going to be a squealing infant on it too. The child in question comes into sight, dashing along to the front of the queue being followed by a slender woman.
'Sylvie, no, Sylvie we have to wait back there,' she says, grasping the child and attempting to lead her to the back of the line.
'I don't wanna,' screeches little Sylvie as Tom winces with at least half the other people around him.
'Sylvie,' says the woman in a warning tone.
Sylvie's face crumples and she turns and follows her mother silently. Tom is amazed. He'd been terrified that he'd have to witness several tantrums and gain at least one burst eardrum and all before nine in the morning. But it seemed that Sylvie's mother was very much the one in charge here.
Eventually the bus arrives and they climb on. Sylvie and her mother sit a few rows in front of Tom and he occupies himself by tracing the elaborate curls of hair that are piled on the mother's head. Occasionally Sylvie turns round and stares back at him as if she can sense his interest in her mother and so he pulls faces at her until she turns back again with a haughty sniff.
They get off a stop before him and Tom is sad to see their place taken by a man with a disturbingly shiny pink skull peeking through the thin strands of hair on the crown of his head.
He wonders if they'll be there again tomorrow.
Tuesday. It's still raining and Tom makes it onto the bus just as it starts moving. He's always glad there's that open step at the back of the bus. Sadly he has to stand so he hangs on to the bar and sways gently with the movement of the bus, thinking of nothing except the discomfort of his damp wool coat until he hears a familiar voice.
'No Sylvie, you need to sit still, there's not enough room to swing your legs and you're annoying the nice gentleman in front.'
The nice gentleman in question doesn't look very nice at all in fact, his face is screwed up in distaste and if Tom were to guess, he'd say the man was allergic to children. Tom used to think he was as well and then his sister had three in quick succession and he was converted.
Sylvie stops kicking and looks for something else to divert her. She cranes her head around, looking disturbingly like she's been possessed and then she catches sight of Tom. A grin passes over her face and Tom can't stop the answering one on his. They spend the rest of the bus ride pulling horrendous faces at each other to the amusement and sometimes disgust of the other passengers. Sylvie's mother seems fairly unconcerned with what is amusing her daughter so much, just disappearing into the pages of her magazine with a sigh.
As on Monday, they get off on the stop before his. Sylvie follows her mother closely, grimacing all the way.
On Wednesday he is early. Yelland is being a pain again and he wants to be there to go over his notes a few more times. Miles laughed at him but then Miles isn't being systematically destroyed by a stupid man who thinks he's better than anyone else. So Tom's not in the best of moods as he climbs on to the bus half an hour earlier than usual. And he feels worse when he realises his usual entertainment won't be there. It's only been two mornings but he's enjoyed having Sylvie's little monkey face peeping at him from behind the seats.
He sits down and closes his eyes. He knows the journey like the back of his hand so it's not as if he's going to miss anything. When he gets off the bus at his stop he wanders towards the office reluctantly. He needs to do the extra work if he's going to keep his job but right now, his job is very unappealing.
He wakes early on Thursday too but that's pure coincidence. It gives him time to iron his shirt a little more thoroughly and actually put thought into selecting his tie instead of grabbing one of the two he always wears. He only has to wait a few minutes before the bus comes and it is just about to leave when he sees two familiar faces running up the hill towards the bus.
'Wait! Please!' gasps Sylvie's mother, dragging the child behind her at a speed her legs can barely keep up with.
Tom, unthinkingly, puts out a hand to block the doors from closing and they ping back with a whoosh, inches from him. He breathes a sigh of relief, he's quite fond of that hand.
Sylvie and her mother canter onto the bus and almost into him.
They pay while the other passengers look on, annoyed. He understands, he feels the same way about late arriving passengers most of the time, they only delay the bus. Of course it's different if it's him. Or if it's Sylvie and her mother apparently.
Sylvie's mother gives him a grateful smile as she brushes past him and he breathes the light perfume that hangs in the air after her. Sylvie follows, panting, worn out from the race to the bus. He has to stand all the way to his stop but it's worth it for the second smile he gets as they leave the bus. He spends the rest of the day happier than he thinks his colleagues have ever seen him and he manages to alarm Yelland spectacularly by laughing at an insult aimed his way instead of puffing up in anger as usual.
On Friday, unusually, he gets on the bus with Miles although they live and work together, Miles generally works different shifts to him because he really isn't good in the mornings. But this Friday, Miles has ended up with the earlier shift and he's not entirely happy about it. He stands next to Tom in the queue, swaying slightly with sleepiness and when the bus comes, he doesn't move until Tom nudges him pretty hard.
Sylvie and her mother are in the queue behind them but they bob and weave in the mass of passengers until they are right behind Tom and Miles. They sit in the row in front of them and while Miles almost immediately falls asleep, trusting Tom to wake him at the right point, Tom keeps his eyes open, again fascinated by the curls of hair twirled up into a bun on Sylvie's mother's head. Sylvie only turns once and crosses her eyes at him briefly before her mother murmurs something to her and she sits around properly, wriggling in a puppy like fashion until they get off the bus. She turns and waves slightly at Tom as they walk past his window and he smiles and waves back.
The next week he looks out for them but as the week goes on his hopes go down. He even looks for them in the supermarket, reasoning that as they got on at the same bus stop, they must live fairly close and therefore go to the one supermarket in the area. But he never sees them even if he sees that twirled up hair in the corner of his eye several times.
So as some of you might know, I have a job. Part of that means that I get to commute daily into the centre of London and back out again along with a lot of other people and this was where the idea of this fic came from. I'm getting to the point where I notice people who are on the bus every morning and sometimes we even get the same evening one too.
Hope you liked, please review if you read because it honestly makes my day (also, think of me trapped in a sterile office all day, your review would seriously cheer me up)