The Queen

The Queen

Mum, please dont worry, but come the New Year, we might have a fewwell, financial troubles. I mean, we wont starve to death or anything, I think.

Darling, dont keep me in suspense. You know I cant stand long-winded introductions.

I do know, Mum. Okay, in short: Ive quit my job. Thats it.

What? Was it your own decision, or did they show you the door?

My decision. I like making my own choices.

I know, youre just like your father. I can imagine what hed say if he were still with us.

Mum, lookjust look at those lovely robins perched on the tree outside our window And Dad would say, Its not the job that makes the person.

I was always so proud of you, my girl. Proud of the job you had, your salary, your position. Head of cultural affairs for the whole city. They were always putting you on the telly. People treated you like a queen, listened to you, respected you. Stylish, slim, beautifulmy daughter.

Mum, come on nowyoure getting teary. Im not going to lose my looks any time soon, theyll stick with me.

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

You see, Mum, my values just dont match those of my bosses. For them, its all about ticking boxes on timeno thought for the people unless theyre making speeches. I just cant go along with it. Like they say in court when couples split, irreconcilable differences.

Well, in every workplace the bosses want their reports and targets. So you wont even be going to your cultural events this winter, then?

Oh, I will, Mum! We all prepared them as a team, after all. Ill just be there as a spectator. Thatll be a laugh.

A laugh, is it? The citys head of culture standing by the Christmas tree like everyone else. At least take me along for moral support.

I thought, Mum, youd be fed up of Christmas trees at nurseries by now: a party for every group, for the staffs kids, for the staff themselves, for the nurserys branch off

Dont forget the one for the orphanage. Yes, Lottie, we have our own targets tooincluding how many children get exposed to cultural events. But Id like to see what youve got planned for the family Christmas event in the Main City Park. Funny, you run all those family Christmas parties and yet you have no family of your own. And now, youve not even got a job. Lottie! Youre nearly forty! Still carrying a torch for Paul? Paul the First! He never did leave for Vienna to play in the opera, did he? Mr. Saxophonist!

Saxophonist, Mum. Adolphe SaxBelgian inventor built the instrument almost two centuries ago.

And youre reminding me? Im the music coordinator, remember! One thing I cant forgive your saxophone player forhe scrambled your head so much you cant think of anyone else, havent let anyone in all these years. Youre getting older, Lottie, my queen. Mum dabbed at her eyes. A queen without a throne. An ageing, unmarried queen! What would your father say now?

Hed say women are like fine wineget nobler with age. Please, Mum, dont cry. Everything will turn out.

Yes, your father did love women.

No, Mum, he loved you more than life itself. Never let go of your hand till the very end, kept stroking your fingers in the hospital.

I know, love. I always regret not telling him often enough how much I loved him. It just seemed so obvious.

Mum, Dad always felt your love. And when you sang for him, you shouldve seen his face.

Mum started singing, brushing away her tears:

And the snow falls, the snow falls,
And all around awaits for something.
Beneath this snow, beneath soft snow,
I want to say to all:
My dearest one,
Look with me at this snow.
Its pure, like what I keep silent,
What I long to say.

Mum, that song always gets to me. Every time I hear it, I wish for snow on my birthday at the end of April, and for someone to sing it to me.

Darling, what about your work? You have so much potential! Where will you go next?

Ill be working as a bus conductor, Mum.

Oh dont be silly! Maybe talk to Nina in flat thirty-six, she knows people everywherecouncil, tax office, legal, housing

Im being serious. Ive decidedIm going to be a bus conductor. You still ride the buses, dont you?

Occasionally, yes.

Well, what do you make of the conductors?

Thats just itthem? No style, no poise, bundled up in layers, sandals over woolly socks, yelling Tickets, please! Move to the middle! Tickets, please! Round and round. Very creative work.

You do a funny impression, Mum! The tones spot on. Do you remember that time Dad came home tipsy and told us that bus joke? He never could hold his drink, but that day theyd opened a new housing block at work. He was so cheerful thenyou said youd never realised what a funny drunk he was. Do you remember the joke, Mum?

Not reallywhat was it, Lottie?

A totally drunk man gets on the bus, staggering at the back, barely hanging onto the rail. The conductor goes up, snaps, Your fare, sir! The man makes a toast with his fingers like hes holding a shot glass, and declares, A toastto the fare!

Oh, how I wish I could have your dad back now, let him tell any jokejust to have him here, alive.

Mum, Dads always with us. I keep hearing his voice in my head: Its all in your minds, girls. Change the tune in your head and life will give you a serenade, a rock ballad, a comic dittywhatever you want!

So why didnt you change the tune for your Paul, then? Always the same old story. He couldnt stand you being the queen while he was the court musicianjust like Gosha in Moscow Doesnt Believe in Tears. But at least that film had a happy ending! Anyway, enough about him. Darling, seriously now, where will you work?

As a bus conductor, Mum. I start my route after the holidays.

No, Lottie, thats just not right. You were always a bit eccentric, stood out from the crowd, but this is beyond! A conductor! Everyone in this town knows you, you were on TV for years, and now youll be a conductorwhat would your father say?

Im just doing as he advised, Mum. You remember the words in my 18th birthday card? Remember: no one else can make decisions for you. You must take your own life in hand. Otherwise, life will keep knocking at your door, and youll never be in. I repeat them to myself like a mantra.

You mean youll be in a city bus, not home? Who are you challengingsociety?

Yes, in a city bus. But its a challenge to myself, Mum! My manager told me it was time to take off my crownthat Id drifted too far from everyday life, lost touch with people, out of step, not even using public transport anymore! He conveniently forgot that my driver broke his leg, and for two weeks before Christmas I was on buses and trams with the rest. Ive seen plenty of people, thanks!

Oh, the jobs youve held in culture! And now as a conductor?

Yes, Mum! Ill spread some culture among passengers and staff!

Mum lay down on the sofa, rubbing her temples.

Well, darling, youve floored me with this New Years bombshell. A proper cultural knockout. My heads still ringing.

Someone famous once said if God didnt knock us over now and then, wed never look up at the sky. Mum, lookthe winter suns out, see how lovely it is? The kids put up a bird feeder, robins and tits are flocking. And now the snows falling

Lottie began to sing: And the snow falls, the snow falls. And all around awaits for something

Our madcap Lottie! A conductors salary is five times less than what you were on. Are you trying to force me to accept help from Mr. Winterbottom from the second floor?

Mum, hes actually a good man. Retired colonel. Widower. Serious, responsible, and really generous. I know, I know, no one can be Dad. But dont compare. Dad is always in our hearts. Its been nearly ten years, Mum

Emily! This isnt about me, its about you. Youll be bored out of your mind as a conductor! No creativity! Still, your father always said youd bring an idea wherever you wenteven as a street sweeper. Or maybe you should take a trip to London for a week? Youll probably get a good payout for unused holidays. Might give you time to ponder lifes meaning.

How about we go to Brighton together on my compensation, Mum?

Lotties phone rang. Mum sat up, listening intently. Lottie replied calmly, Alright, Ill start my shift on the fourth of January. Yes, my documents are already with admin. Thank you.

Mum, sorry, change of plan! London and Brighton are off!

*******

Bus number 7 completed its first run that chilly morning, winding clear across the city to the eastern outskirts. The route was popular, always crammed with passengers. The last stop.

Mr. Johnson, can I use your microphone? Nearly like a tour guide, you know.

Up to your old tricks again, love? Already decked out the bus with tinsel and baubles, given me those colourful signs overhead. Updated the quote of the day by my seat. Out of curiosity, what quote have the passengers got today?

Its a saying, Mr. Johnson.

A saying, yeah!

Its good to travel a road youve chosen for yourself!

You are a character, Miss Watkins. Lucky, this late in life, to have a conductor like you. Mind you, my backup, Bill, just cant get used to you. Says he sometimes cant even look your way. Was shocked when you gave him that new document wallet with the union jack and suggested he keep all his neat paperwork in it. He chucked the old one straight away, said it was a new era. Even had his wife order him two new t-shirts online with the national flag. Says: We may be driving an old bus, but were carrying upstanding Brits! Youre not like any other conductor. Even your clothes look officialand the shoes and glasses! Bill keeps saying youre like someone off the telly. Told him, Shes like an actress! He nearly fainted when you put up our own quotes under our names. Thats something! We felt almost like Aristotle, only joking.

You really are the local Aristotles, Mr. Johnson! You never realise how thoughtful you are while youre being funny.

Lottie smiled, reading the two cards hung beneath the Drivers Quotes sign:

If you must talk on the phone, keep it downor at least, be interesting! Mr. Johnson, Driver, City Transport.

If you wont give up your seat to an elderly lady, I certainly will. Bill Parker, Driver, City Transport.

Philosophy for the ages, she concluded.

And we quote you too, Queenie! Mind if I call you that? Its all in our heads. Change the tune, and youll get a new song every time.

Thats not mine, Mr. Johnsonits my fathers.

Why in past tense? Has he passed then?

He died, yes. He was a respected builderhouses, bridges, schools. Accident at work. In hospital, he died holding Mums hand.

Sorry, love. Fate, I suppose. Your mum still around?

She is. Music teacher at the nursery. By the way, Mr. Johnson, wouldnt it be wonderful to have music on the bus? I could do a short talk on the mic and then play something uplifting for our passengers.

Not sure, love. Passengers have all sorts of tastesthis one too loud, that one doesnt like this sort of music

Ive checked regulationsnothing bans music on buses or sets a required volume. Music shouldnt annoy, it should lift spirits. Even Aristotle said, centuries ago, music shapes moodfor calm or energy. Ill pick something I know people will like, and share important messages through the mic, just not during rush hour. Shall we try? May I?

The bus rolled away. At the terminal, a flurry of passengers loaded on, paid their fares, found seats for the long ride to the city centreand Lottie sat by the driver, took up the old microphone, and, using her best presentation voice, began:

Good morning, dear passengers! Were making our way along the longest bus route in the city, starting here on Oak Lane. The air in Oakwood is the freshest in townso many folks travel with us at weekends just for a stroll in the beautiful woods. After fifteen stops, well reach the city centre at Bright Streetmade all the brighter in winter by the glistening snow, Christmas lights and sparkling decorations on all the shops and offices. Our city is wonderful this festive season. Youre welcome to hop off for the Christmas fair in the central square, or take your children to the puppet theatreits just before the town centre stop. Visitors shouldnt miss our unique timber architecture museumjust get off at Village Road. And, of course, youre all invited to our family Christmas event in the Main City Park, Garden Road. You wont regret it! Have a pleasant journey, and enjoy the celebrations.

Lottie finished and was about to hand the microphone back when a cheeky young man piped up, So, whats on at the Rivoli Cinema, then? Without missing a beat, Lottie replied, Im afraid bus number 7 doesnt go quite that far, sir. Change at the centre for the Number 1 and ride another ten stops. Theyre showing the comedy Christmas Trees Part 3. Though, if I may, I recommend the Star cinema here on our linethree screens and three films: Christmas Trees 3, an adult fairytale about Sir George, and the romantic drama Christmas Parcel.

Mr. Johnson, nodding, murmured, My wife and I will come to the family Christmas do in the Main Park. Is it true therell be a raffle and hot mulled wine? Lottie grinned, Absolutely. Johnson shook his head in awe. I have a feeling you wont stop there, Lottie! Youll dream up something new again! Lottie replied, My dream, Mr. Johnson, is for there to be live music on the bus, at least for the holidays. Maybe have the Brighton Trio sing folk songs at Christmas, and on Mr. Waters birthday invite Ivan the guitaristhes brilliant at classic tunes. Perhaps my friend the accordionist for Pancake Day, too.

She rang her mum and said, Sorry Mum, I wont make the family Christmas party. Im working double shifts. Theres a shortage of staff. But the party must go ontake Mr. Winterbottom and enjoy yourselves. Hell love it, and I hope you do too.

During later trips, Lottie commandeered the mic whenever the automated voice fell silent, giving impromptu sightseeing guides and inviting people to cultural events. She was unfailingly polite, considerate, and encouraging. Within a month, the buss regulars werent even surprised. Newcomers quickly spread the word that bus number seven had a most unusual conductor.

***

Three months on, the story of the conductor-queen, as she became known, had spread. Inevitably, management caught wind.

Miss Watkins, the boss at City Buses, Mr. Andrew Sutton, addressed her sternly. I couldnt ignore the reports any longer. You seem to be using your job forother purposes. Entertaining passengers with songs and stories? I expect complaints soon!

Mr. Sutton, thank you for speaking with me about passenger service. Your drivers, Mr. Johnson and Bill Parker, are outstandingreal professionalsdeserving of awards. And if you let me add a touch of culture, you might consider my mini-guides and concerts an innovative project for the company.

Sutton shifted in his seat, mopped his brow, fiddled with a glass of water. He rose, sat, then finally declared:

Well, Miss Watkins, ticket income from number seven hasnt droppedin fact, its up. But remember, people differsome hate music, others cant bear noise, and now youre singing with a live band! Its not in the rulebook!

But it isnt forbidden, Mr. Sutton! Your rules say conductors must not only check tickets, but ensure passenger comfort and safety.

Comfort, yesbut there are complaints from other conductors.

They dont know me; I barely know any of them. I work double shifts.

Exactly! You dont socialise. Two of our experienced conductors tried your route in disguise. They were shocked! Said you dont go up to passengers for fares, you just announce it on the micsitting up front like a queen, showing off, giving tours out of boredom. Youre a conductor, not a tourist guide.

Lottie quietly hummed If its not too late, lets stop here, Conductor, press the brake but didnt apologisenor did she stay silent.

Mr. Sutton, I know you have a lot to deal with, but may I remind you: per our handbook, the conductor cannot demand payment nor check tickets, only sell them if requested. Its the passengers duty to pay promptly. As for being called a queen, the staff didnt mention my methodeveryone enters at the front, where I hold court, and leaves at the back. If theres a crowd, fares are passed along and receipts handed out. I address everyone over the mic, reassure them that its safe to pass along cardsbecause we have CCTV! If anyone tries to use someone elses, theyll be caught red-handed!

But we dont have cameras! Now youre making things up? Queen, indeed!

Im just dreaming, Mr. Sutton for the good of the passengers! But camerasyou should really consider installing them. Its standard everywhere now.

Sutton mused, So you dont walk the aisles?

Sometimesespecially if I need to help a pensioner or a mum with a buggy, or comfort a crying child. But usually, I stay up front, because the mountain comes to Mohammed. Some fare-dodgers get curious who this queen is and come check me outand, caught up in the stories and songs, end up paying anyway. Mr. Sutton, may I askdo you love our city? Have you lived here long? Youre hard to find on social media.

Not long. I moved back after a divorce. A lots changedI barely recognise the place!

Exactlyso much for the better! Why not share that with people? Im not a guide, just a navigator for leisure and self-improvement. And by the way, Id suggest you see the play A Blokes Divorce at the local theatre. Its a comedygood for the spirits.

Miss Watkins, I cant continue this nowI have a meeting. Butif you ever invite me to the theatre, I wont refuse

********

The Conductor-Queen project continued through February and March. Lottie even got a bonus for International Womens Day from Mr. Sutton, and she gave him theatre tickets for his holiday, though she couldnt go herselfshe had double shifts. Her legend spread, but the project gained no followers. Colleagues gossiped that the bus queen was a bit madwhy else invent all this for such a meagre wage? Some insisted she must have a dozen secret benefactors. No one knew that her only supporter was retired Colonel Winterbottom from the second floor, who valued Lottie deeply and cared very much for her mother.

***

28 April. Saturday. Lotties birthday. Mum had begged her to take the day off, but Lottie preferred to work her favourite route, where regulars awaited her. She walked briskly through the cold, spring air to the bus depot, thinking how much she loved the melodies and rhythms in her mind since leaving her high-powered job.

And thenthe impossible: white flakes falling, snow fluttering down, nestling in her hair. Shed dreamed of April snow since childhood. It melted quickly, but in those brief, gentle descents there was pure magic. Delighted, she entered her bus to find it decorated with paper snowflakes by her drivers. Bill, working that day, presented her with chocolates and a brand new microphone: Our Queen deserves the best! Lottie handed them herbal tonic and a copy each of My England in return.

Passenger numbers were low that holiday morning, but the centre soon filled the bus to standing room. And thenthrough the front door stepped a man who made Lotties heart jump so violently, she nearly needed first aid herself. It was Paul: her only love, his saxophone case held above his headtoo precarious to pay his fare. Abandoning all protocol, Lottie cried out, Tickets, please! Theres CCTV on this bus! Move through to the middle! She practically leapt from her seat, making her way to the back.

And suddenlythe sound of live music. Pauls soulful saxophone filled the bus, the queens private chambers, with the melody of And the snow falls, the snow falls

***

Sometimes, to find your true self, you must leave the throne, take off your crown, and meet life out in the real worldwhere the smallest, most ordinary moments become miraculous, especially when you make that journey on your own terms.