Has your bus come yet? a hurried man asked.
Excuse me, madam, do you know if the last bus has already gone? A breathless man dashed up to the stop. Not just a youth, but properly middle-agedwell into his fiftieswearing a jacket and trackies, a worn bag slung over his shoulder. An ordinary face, sporting a moustachenever a style I liked. I looked away, saying nothing.
Is it so hard to answer, madam? Has the last bus gone or not? Youre waiting for the bus, arent you? He caught his breath, dropping a heavy rucksack onto the bench next to me.
Im not waiting for anyone or anything, I responded in annoyance. But as it was late, and you never knew who anyone was these days, I softened, Some bus went about five minutes agoI wasnt paying attention.
Oh, just my luck! He plonked down on the bench so suddenly, I half-feared it would collapse and I nearly leapt up myself.
So, you missed yours too, then? he pressed on, relentless, almost intrusive.
I smoothed my coat and decided to walk home. It was getting late, anyway.
About an hour before, a sudden urge had come over me to get out of the house. Air felt scarce, I was lonelynever felt that way before.
I’d led a solitary life and always enjoyed it. My friends had all married, had families, but Id never wanted that. My earliest memoriesmy mother in the village having baby after baby. Three of them sent off to the care home. I, the eldest, ran away to the city. Finished up at technical college and became an accountant, working all my life in the citys main café. The Golden Years cafécheerful music, delicious food.
At first, I was just a bookkeeper, later the chief accountant right until I retired. Weddings, anniversariesI was never bored. The pay was good. Food was always excellent. I bought my own flat, took holidays, and frankly, I never desired another life.
A year ago, the new café owner claimed that I was behind the times, that my working methods didnt fit with how he wanted things run.
Suddenly, I was ushered into retirement, though it had never crossed my mind to stop working.
At first, I searched for other jobs. Eventually I realised that what was available didnt suit me, and the positions I did fancy wanted someone younger.
I gave up. I had my little nest egg tucked away, enough for me to get by. So, I retired, adrift in the freest waters of my life.
At first, it was blissliving without plans, no alarm clocks, going on tours, even joining Nordic walking groups in the park.
But after a while, the novelty wore off, and that night I just wandered the streets and sat at the bus stop bench.
Cars rumbled by, streetlights glowing, people passing and chatting. I sat there feeling as if I didnt existonly this loud, living city did. It went about its business, no matter what, and my own life seemed of no account.
I felt completely unnecessary. Utterly soin the whole wide world, not a soul cared.
And then, suddenly, this man appeared!
Nowhere to sleep tonight either, is it, miss? he said. I once spent a night on this bench. Worked a shift, missed the last bus and had to rough itback then it was warmer than this. Still, Ive got sausage sarnies, if you dont mind. Dont worry, miss, hereyou take this. The bread’s fresh, sausage is my favourite. Hang on, Ill get the flasklets have some hot tea, proper sweet. Thatll warm us up.
He changed his tone out of nowhere and placed a sandwich in my hand. I meant to refuse, but suddenly I realised I was ravenous. No dinner, barely any lunch. I took a biteit was delicious! I hadnt treated myself to sausage in ages, always trying to eat healthily, but this bread was fragrant, the sausage mm!
He let out a wheezy chuckle. Nice, eh? Go onheres the tea. Steaming, so dont burn yourself. Whats your name?
Margaret White, I mumbled, my mouth full. He nodded with a grin.
Margaret it is! Im Jim Barker. Used to work at the factory. They let me go, now Im doing security odd shifts. Mums not well, getting on a bit now, so I work to pay for her medicinehope shes got a few more years yet. Used to have a familybut the marriage broke up, sons grown and off on his own, wifes gone with someone else. So here I am, just plodding along, he said, half-laughing, but suddenly his eyes turned sad.
Do you live far from here, Margaret? Id offer you money for a cabshouldnt be too dear, but for me it’s different; cabs never want to go out of town this late, and the fare home doubles. You should be alright though, Jim looked at me and smiled. And then, all of a sudden, I remembered a boy from school, Billy, who used to share his sandwiches when I was always hungry. He used to look at me the same waykindly, a little teasing. Now, I felt myself just as I did thenlike a slip of a girl again, as if this life, the Golden Years café, the forced retirement, had never happened.
I finished the last bite, washed it down with sweet hot tea, and shocked myself by blurting out
Come back to mine, Jim. No point sleeping on a bench. My place is just hereno need to pay for a taxi. Grab your bag and lets go. But mind yourself, Im not as helpless as I look!
He blinked in surprise, looked past me at the house and then back at me,
So why were you out here then? Waiting for someone?
Wasnt waiting for anyone. Nothing left to wait for. Are you coming or not? I turned and headed for home. Jim grabbed his bag, shaking his head.
Well, cant say no to that! But Ill sleep on the sofa, out the wayoff at the crack of dawn, I promise. Thanksblimey, its cold tonight, Jim hurried after me, still looking slightly bemused.
In the morning, I woke to hear a faint tapping. Out to the hallwayJim was already up, curled on the kitchen sofa, now fiddling about in the bathroom.
Your loos leaking, Margaret, sorted it for you. Think Ive earned some breakfast? he said, standing up with a grin. I was startled for a moment: a strange man in my home, hair grey and mussed, eyes kindly. And yet, there was a warmth in me I hadnt felt in years.
Well, come and have breakfast then, Jimyouve earned it. Fried eggs with tomatoes? My washing machine’s on the blink tooleaves things half-damp. And another thing
So Jim Barker stayed with me until his next work shift. He phoned his mum, she was fine, so he stopped the night.
Now, we live together. Jim heads off to work every third day. I spend those days thinking up new dishes, half restaurant, half café fare, to surprise him with. He kisses my hands, smiling
Maggie love, I knew you were waiting for me. I wasnt late by chance. Its fate! Sorry for leaving you alone so long. I never knew I could feel this way, not ever. Isnt life funny?
We call on his mum often. Shes pushing eighty, but still full of fight. Around her, I feel like a schoolgirl all over again.
And Jims mother, Mary Barker, could not be happier for her son. At last, she says, theres joy in her Jimmys lifesomething to make it all worthwhile.
