The Busconductor Hines (5 page)

One and a half times their wages. Ha ha.

More or less.

Come off it ya cunt.

Come off it fuck all. Take the O.T. into consideration as well I mean how in the name of christ d'you carry on expecting solidarity with that sort of stupid discrepancy? typical nazi ploy: maintain the differentials.

Reilly laughed.

Aye, on you go. And I'll tell you something else: you'll never catch me driving a bus till it's equal wages all round.

Reilly continued laughing.

Aye and dont think you'll catch my vote for Shop Steward either!

You'll no be here by that time.

What time?

The elections. According to what I heard you were jacking the job.

Hines shook his head. I've never met a cunt like you for poking the nose in where it doesnt belong. I'm no kidding you Reilly you're a disgrace to the Vatican.

Here we go, evasion of the issue; typical Masonic trick.

I'd rather be a Mason than a Pope.

And who told you I was definitely standing for it anyhow? Reilly had risen from the seat; he paused before strolling along to the cabin.

My lips are sealed.

Did you believe whoever it was?

Course I fucking believed it. My whole picture of you became a hundred percent. A flash of inspiration. That's the true Reilly I pondered, at long last being declared in his actual primaries, enhancing the life fulfilment, setting his sights on the ladder.

Reilly hooted.

An Inspectorship; that's what you're really after. Everything's fitting the gether by christ. Once I jack the job you'll be applying for the one-man fucking bus training then after that you'll be grabbing the Shop Stewardship while sneakily entering the Inspector's exam. O for fuck sake and then it'll be the Deskclerkship! Too much! You and Campbell. The plot's out. Imagine it too; the cunt's too embarrassed to confide in me. Me! His one genuine mucker in the entire garage spectrum. Well well well. What's up? did you think I'd scoff? Aye well you're fucking right I will ya hypocritical cunt ye.

I'm taking the fifth. Reilly switched on the engine and revved it loudly.

Hines waited for a lull and roared: A ladderclimber ya cunt! I always knew it: typical fenian marxist fucking glory seeker.

Up your arse. Reilly released the handbrake, the bus moved out from the terminus.

Upstairs in the bothy Hines covered his mouth while he yawned. Very pardon, I'm no hinting about my state of utter boredom.

A driver nearby had been recounting an incident from the morning. Someone told him to ignore the interruption but he shrugged. Ach, I was more or less finished anyhow. He also yawned; he drank a mouthful of tea. 2 duty I was on – it gets to you.

So does 92.

Well why dont you go back on the broo ya bastard!

Wish to christ I could George, that's the trouble with nowadays, you thingwy and then the thingwy thingwys. Fucking murder so it is.

He's a three-time loser into the bargain, said Reilly. If he jacks it now he's doomed to a life without buses.

Ah the job's just fucking getting to him.

It's always getting to him.

Aye but it's Reilly's fault, laughed Colin Brown, for jumping on the sick so fucking much.

Nothing to do with me. My life's my own. Reilly shifted his chair to allow someone to squeeze another chair into the company; he munched on his roll and sausage. A different conversation began.

Hines stared at the ceiling. He exhaled a smoke-ring in the direction of the strip-lighting. Can I canoe you up the river. That's what I want to know.

No wonder I jump on the sick, grinned Reilly: It's the only way to stay sane with the cunt.

Shut up ya renegade! Hines glanced round at the faces. This bastard was offered a bit of O.T. yesterday afternoon. Thought it went unnoticed so he did – creeping up to the counter when I was paying in the dough and all that. No kidding you man there's no cunt trustable nowadays.

Reilly snorted.

These fucking drivers're all the same, cried a conductor.

Aye, said Colin Brown. And he'll be sticking his name down for the one-man operating games when your back's fucking turned.

McCulloch laughed: Aw listen to this cunt! As soon as he passes his licence it'll be the first thing he does himself; no danger.

You kidding? Colin Brown looked at him. Fucking last thing you'll catch me doing, eh Rab?

Hines indicated Reilly: He's already done it the snidey bastard.

A few turned to glance at Reilly and he laughed: Heh wait a minute, he's joking; he's joking.

Who's joking! You've joined the arselickers Reilly and you cant deny it.

Shut up you, you'll have them fucking believing it.

Hines grinned and drank tea.

Pay no heed to the cunt, said somebody to Reilly. Hines is just upset because auld McGilvaray gave him a day suspension.

Heh by the way . . . said Colin Brown. I heard some cunt got sent home the other day for no wearing a hat. Eh! fuck sake; imagine losing a day's wages for that.

There's many a slip twixt cup and lip.

Naw, went on McCulloch, it definitely is getting worse but. No doubt about it. Couple of nights ago we gets to the Cross – on the bingo run – I'm no more than 4 maybe 4½ minutes sharp; out jumps Mackie – cunt's been hiding up a close as usual. Over he comes to the window. Heh you he says. What I
says you talking to me Inspector Mackie. McCulloch grinned: Cunt hates it when you call him that. You're far too early he says. I'm no too early at all I says I'm only 4. 4 my arse he says you're 7. And if you think you can come charging through here at this time then you've

Well well well.

Shut up ya cunt, muttered Colin.

If you think you can come through here 7 sharp he says and get away with it then you've another fucking think coming. Wait a minute I says. Wait no minute says Mackie take out your watch. So I takes it out and that and

Amazing kettle of cabbage.

McCulloch glanced at him.

O sorry, sorry – I thought you'd finished there George.

Sarcastic bastard Rab, so you are.

Naw George honest; I genuinely thought you'd shot the bolt.

McCulloch looked away.

Hines is right, said somebody. Here we're in for a fucking break out the road and what happens? Christ, you're feart to leave a cup on the table in case it gets knocked down by a wee bus.

Aye change the subject change the subject! Who's got a fucking joke?

McCulloch folded his arms and sat back on his seat.

Ach that's no fair, said a driver.

Course it's no, cried Hines. Come on yous mob, a bit of order for Mr McCulloch here; let him finish the story – I'm really involved in the outcome. What was it again? O aye, along comes Mackie with a 4½ minute cross for a watch and he jumps out a window shouting – what? what was it again?

Bingo! laughed a conductor.

A few others laughed. And Reilly leaned forwards, elbows on the table, glancing about him: Heh; any of yous heard the one about the three-legged priest in Ballymurphy?

Aw Christ naw, no one of his! Quick: get the dominoes!

Good idea, shouted McCulloch; if I cant get talking then neither's any other cunt. And you can blame your mate for that Willie.

I know, he's always hated my jokes the bastard.

Aye and no wonder ya cunt ye I've been hearing them for 43 fucking year!

No this yin you've no. Reilly laughed, and glanced round again. There's this young priest – 3 legs he's got – right, straight out of college and they send him into Ballymurphy, the

aye aye yippee, aye aye yippee yippee aye; she'll be coming round the mountains when she comes, she'll be coming round the mountains when she comes; she'll be coming round the mountains, coming round the mountains; coming round the mountains when she comes; singing aye aye yippee yippee aye, singing aye

The company were laughing. Hines took his fingers out his ears. Reilly was also laughing. Hines prised the lid off his tin: Sorry I missed the punchline, sounds as if it was good too.

Reilly glanced at him. No sense of humour ya cunt that's always been your problem.

Hines nodded. I want to be a cowboy when I grow up.

Get the dominoes! roared McCulloch.

At the last terminus Reilly had switched off the engine and applied the handbrake. After a pause he left the driver's cabin and came slowly down the aisle, peering in below the seats.
Other drivers, he was muttering, they're always supposed to be finding 50 pence pieces and pound notes and the rest of it but no me, naw; I'm no even asking for that much. 10 pence just, a lowly 10 pence; that would do, that would do me lovely.

Hines lay outstretched on the rear seat, his boots resting on the frame of the seat in front; his eyelids were shut.

Other conductors I've been on with, buying their drivers drink and grub and smokes but no you, naw, no him, not Mr Hines; a man could die of malnufuckingtrition with him for a conductor. An apology! Was that an apology?

Time?

Time! No good asking a fucking driver that ya mug ye. Reilly had swung the pocket-watch out from its pocket and was reading its face. 27 past I think and 10 seconds maybe 11, 12, 13 maybe 14.

What?

Reilly nodded.

You kidding?

Nope.

22 more minutes to go you mean? Hines had sat up and was staring at him. I dont fucking believe this! Take your time – I told you to take your bastarn time: jesus god another 22 minutes, I'll no make it.

No my fault if the punters dont want the bus . . . Reilly opened a side window and spat out, then closed it.

I cant take it; I just cant take it any more. Hines was lying along the seat again with his eyelids shut. Please doctor, I cant, honest sir I just cant take it sir please sir a couple of weeks on the sick sir.

Reilly groaned.

Listen ya cunt, said Hines twisting to sit upright: I saw you sitting tailing that bus on Paisley Road West. You cant fucking deny it now come on I mean what in the name of god were
you playing at? How come you never dived right in and stole his punters? ya miserable imbecilic looking bastard ye, eh? Tell me that?

Cause he was fucking due to be in front ya clown ye that's fucking how. We were 10 fucking sharp as it was ya fucking idiot ye. Anyhow, that red-headed fucking Inspector's always creeping about there at this time of the fucking night, as well ye fucking know, so dont give us any of your patter. I was taking a big enough chance as it was.

Hines gaped at the roof.

Reilly opened the window and spat out again.

What a yarn. What a fucking yarn! O christ man the buses really have fucked him up good and proper. I mean what d'you think I'm new at the fucking game?

Sometimes you act like it ya fucking idiot.

Ho; listen to the patter. Look Reilly I mind fine when you were first out the stupid bastarn driving school: couldnt do enough for your conductors. No matter what by christ – a day like this man when here I am in a state of utter desolation, you'd have been out there dragging them in off the street just so's my head could stay as an entire entity, an entire fucking entity ya cunt, but naw, no now; those days of the halcyon era have gone forever.

Shite.

It's nowhere near shite. Another thing: you must think I'm a right fucking bampot! I mean you honestly trying to tell me you'd be running 10 minutes sharp if there was an Inspector creeping about! Ho; that is a good yin. 10 sharp! You! ya cowardly cunt ye . . . Hines closed his eyelids.

I must be off my head coming back off the panel to this.

You've never been on your fucking head.

Get the tin out, I've no fags left.

Fuck off. He took out the tin and tossed it to him. Roll it
yourself – if you've got the ability . . . He picked a soiled newspaper sheet from the floor and glanced at it.

Eventually Reilly returned him the tin. You definitely no going to the game next week?

Naw.

The ticket's there if you want it.

Nah; seriously man I need the dough. You'll get rid of the thing no bother.