Bus Geeks Need Love Too (Just Don't Mention the Hobby!)

 

“So, what is it you do for a living?”

Not wholly original from Marcus in the great scheme of things, but a sign of interest that should not be ignored, thought Abby, given the circumstances. It is something she’d been asked a thousand times before and every time she answered truthfully the look she received was invariably one of amazement. She wasn’t expecting anything to change.

She’d thought about making something up, and had even tried it on occasion before, but the line between reality and fiction is narrower than you would imagine, as you will discover later. Anyway, even the slightest deviation from the truth would no doubt come back to bite her sooner or later, given what she does, so she chooses honesty. This is probably a good decision.

“I drive large, single-decked buses through a variety of local towns.” Leave it there; don’t say more than you need to at the moment. Try not to speculate on the likely reply. You’ve heard them all before anyway. Just relax and let him do the talking.

“A bus driver - that’s amazing! I assume it’s all low floor stuff? Do you drive the VDL SB 200 or 120? I’ve seen both of them around here. Which bodywork type does it have? Is there a uniform? What kind of tickets do you issue?” Marcus couldn’t stop himself.

This is not what she expected to hear. Four of the five questions Marcus asked were new territory for her, despite her job. Even the anoraks who hung around bus stations making notes on their little pads never asked those questions. Routes, top speed, miles per gallon – all that and more in a similar vein, but not these. It was probably for the best though, as she hadn’t a clue. She drove the buses but she didn’t maintain them. It was a job, not an opportunity to indulge any latent bus-spotter fetish.

As for the uniform question, she had mentally decided to give Marcus the benefit of the doubt, having guessed (correctly) that his interest was more practical than sexual. This hadn’t necessarily been the case with some of her previous prospective boyfriends. Mind you, the subjects of the conversations leading up to that particular question being asked usually set her alarm bells ringing anyway. Asking the question simply reinforced her decision to chalk up another hopeless chancer on the blackboard of failed attempts at romance. Abby was well versed in getting her coat and leaving within minutes of meeting a prospective partner.

At this stage, it is probably advisable to clarify that Abby and Marcus have met through a dating agency. For Marcus, this is something he’s decided to try as he is a stranger in town, having moved for work and personal safety purposes. His girlfriend before leaving the town in which he grew up had a husband whose jealousy and propensity to violence had become apparent when the husband caught him in bed with his wife. He was lucky to get away with just a few bruises, but the guy was chasing him and had discovered his address. So he’d moved away, very quickly and quietly. It was fortunate his employer had proved so understanding, and that there was a vacancy within the company at another branch, where he now lives. Fortunately for Marcus, there are a lot of miles between the two towns.

Marcus knew no-one in the new, provincial, small town, and reasoned internet dating was the obvious way forwards. He’d joined a site, seen Abby’s profile and liked her photo. They’d subtly flirted by email and telephone for a week or so before deciding to try a face-to-face meeting. Pubs had recently reopened, which had to be an improvement on Skype. He thought she was nice when he saw her in the flesh, as it were, and was absolutely bowled over by the job revelation. He’d always loved buses, but didn’t make it known to the world in general as he’s realised over the years it’s not considered ‘cool’. Life suddenly seemed to be improving, despite recent problems in his home town.

Abby, on the other hand, is a long-term client of the dating agency. Although she doesn’t know it, she is actually the least successful client they have on their books in the area. The reasons aren’t easy to understand. She is neither beautiful nor plain; she isn’t tall or short; she isn’t overweight or thin. She is average. It seems she somehow falls through the cracks, despite having a GSH and endearing personality. She is close to her brother. He can’t understand it either. It was a regular topic of conversation during their weekly Facetime conversations. To him, Abby is the perfect sister.

The questionnaire she completed initially, and has updated on a regular basis in line with her experiences in meetings with prospective partners ever since, indicates she’s a girl looking for love but willing to work on potential. In the dating game, being average would seem to somehow lower your appeal. This is absolutely ridiculous, especially when you consider the people making these self-important decisions by swiping or ignorance are, generally speaking, less average (in a detrimental way) than Abby. Sadly, though, the facts seem to speak for themselves. The 17 dates she’s had up to now in the last year have all proved unsatisfactory for one reason or another. Abby wonders if her requirements are too specific. She hopes not.

For Abby, the meeting with Marcus has, until disclosing her job to him, gone OK, but hardly brilliantly. Marcus seems pleasant enough, but not particularly talkative. She considers this a key requirement when dating, particularly the first one where impressing is the name of the game. This one is important for so many reasons. She keeps the conversation moving along, by talking about general stuff, but is becoming slightly concerned Marcus is not interested until he turns bus-spotter on her. Suddenly, he’s animated. There’s a look of excitement in his eyes. It might have been a while since she last saw it, but she recognises it immediately.

Anyway, back to the questions asked by Marcus a few seconds ago.  Abby stalls (pun intended), trying to work out the best response.

“I’m not really sure. Is it important? I suppose I can find out if you want.”

Marcus is slightly disappointed, but hides it well. “That suggests you want to see me again. I’d like that.” He decides not to push for further details on that part of her job for now, although part of him is desperate to know everything there is to know. He can feel himself more energised than when he was running away from his girlfriend’s house a few weeks ago, being hotly pursued by her husband.

He changes the subject slightly. “Are you still working full-time given the lockdown? How are you dealing with social distancing issues? Does everyone wear masks? What happens when customers don’t have one with them?”

This is an area in which Abby holds strong views. “Most of the services are quiet at the best of times, but the now admittedly less-onerous lockdown restrictions reduced our core customer base substantially. The factories on the big trading estate nearby either shut down for a while or were being operated on reduced hours, so work commuting is only gradually returning to pre-lockdown levels. Shops also shut, so passenger numbers outside rush hour have also hit a wall (pun also intended).”

“Those passengers we do have either don’t see the need for social distancing whist on the buses or find it difficult to accept Covid-19 can kill people. I’ve had to refuse to allow some people to get on because they haven’t got a mask. It’s quite scary. I’m working slightly reduced hours as the timetables have been scaled back. Long term, if things don’t pick up there’s a possibility the depot may close, meaning my job will go. The company isn’t keen on providing what I think is necessary PPE for its drivers and I’ve had to buy my own. Did you read about the number of driver deaths due to coronavirus reported by Transport for London? It’s outrageous!”

“The only positive thing I can say is I’m not the only one. Lots of people around here and no doubt across the country are worried about the future. I’ve got a mortgage to pay and a cat to feed. It’s not the best time for me to be talking to a new guy about a possible relationship I suppose, but what the hell…life’s not a rehearsal.”

Marcus lets her finish. “Sorry to hear about your problems, and sorry I asked the question about your uniform. I’m glad you didn’t take it the wrong way. I’m not that kind of person, but, unfortunately, I’m not sure what I can say that will make things feel better.

He’s finding it very easy to talk to Abby. Normally, he’s quite reticent, but she has an ability to get him to open up. Abby is also finding the galvanised Marcus much more interesting than he was a few minutes ago. She goes for broke.

“Go on then, explain the bus-spotter thing to me. If there is going to be any kind of relationship here I need you to tell me all about it now as finding out when it’s too late won’t go down so well. I’m familiar with several versions I see at the local bus stations. They are not my favourite people. I would suggest that for the sake of a possible second date you avoid mentioning you own a Parka coat.”

Marcus immediately tells her all about his father, who was a fitter in a bus depot where he came from. His obvious enthusiasm for the job had rubbed off on a young Marcus, who used to accompany his dad to work at weekends and during school holidays. His love of all things bus-related stemmed from that but, like kipper ties and platform shoes, it’s not a good look nowadays. The subject remains secret much of the time. He keeps his hobby private, and is a member of a few specialist spotter sites under an assumed name, just in case.

Abby grudgingly accepts the explanation. Marcus certainly doesn’t seem the typical bus-spotter as far as she can establish, but she remains wary.

“Are you new to the area?” she asks. “I can’t recall seeing your details before.”

Marcus tells her the potted history of his life, leaving out the bit about the married girlfriend. Abby is happy he’s being so honest. Well, much more honest than several of her other online dates have proved to be anyway, but that’s another story. Marcus asks for her back-story, which she happily provides. They are hitting it off. The owner of the dating site will be cautiously optimistic about Abby’s chances here if he ever realises what is happening.

At the end of their first meeting, Marcus asks if it will be possible to repeat the arrangement in the future. Abby says yes and suggests a phone conversation the next week to firm up everything. As she drives home, she feels unusually happy how things have gone this evening. Later, in her weekly catch-up with her brother, she tells him about how things went. He seems very pleased.

As agreed, Marcus contacts Abby during the week to arrange a second date. A location and time are agreed.  Sure enough, they meet up and the conversation flows. They take a walk along the towpath. After a while, the social distancing limit between them begins to reduce. They pretend they are an item. No-one knows him, and Abby’s bus routes rarely go through her town so they don’t feel they are likely to be challenged by anyone who recognises them.

At the end of their date, Marcus asks if she wants to come back to his place. She declines but suggests he comes round to hers the next day. Bring a bottle of something with you, and get there early. She provides an address.

Marcus gets to her place at the appointed time the next day. Just for a laugh, she opens the door wearing the jacket of her uniform. Marcus doesn’t know what to do for the best. Taking the wine he’s brought with him in one hand, she says she’ll put it in the fridge and make a drink. Would he prefer tea or coffee?

He decides on coffee, and sits down to await Abby’s return. The day is looking extremely promising. Abby brings in the drinks and sits next to him on the settee. She looks very happy, but underneath she’s a bag of nerves. Marcus sees this, and puts it down to concern about how the next few hours may manifest themselves. He drinks his coffee.

When he wakes up, his hands are tied. He’s a passenger in a car travelling along what seems to be a motorway, judging by the speed. He sees a sign he recognises. He’s nearly back in his home town. He gets a sinking feeling.

Abby had laced the coffee with sleeping tablets. Her brother, who was in one of the bedrooms of her ground floor flat, had then reversed his car up to her front door and managed to deposit the unconscious Marcus in the back seat without being spotted. Just in case, he'd tied Marcus' hands behind his back first though. He was driving the car when Marcus woke up.

After being unable to beat the shit out of the guy who’d been shagging his wife, because he couldn’t run as quickly as Marcus, Abby’s brother had resorted to undercover activities to locate the little bastard’s name and address. A combination of luck (his wife’s mobile phone provided a name) and hard work revealed the information to him, but when he paid a visit Marcus had already left the area for good.

He found out from Marcus’ neighbours where he worked and, pretending to be a relative with urgent family business to speak to Marcus about, discovered where he had relocated. It was only the same bloody town where his sister lived. Interrogation of his wife revealed she’d met Marcus through a dating site. It was therefore highly likely he’d be doing the same kind of thing again soon. His sister used dating sites. Tip her the wink and ask her to keep her eyes peeled.

The rest is history. How Abby would play it with the dating agency was up to her. Family is much more important than romance.