She checked her phone again, not for a message or missed call but to check the time. Twenty past four, half an hour late so far but there was nothing to be gained by getting stressed by the coach's tardiness, So, with a sigh she dropped her phone back into her pocket and shrugged back into the warmth of her jacket.

The lateness wasn't the issue really but rather it was being in the lonely shelter, by herself, this time of day. It's not late of course but it's December and the light was fast being replaced by darkness and with it a drop in temperature. Thank God she'd picked up those Christmas leggings in Lidl last week, she nearly hadn't as they were a bit kitsch but who cares what they look like if they keep you warm.

Just as well really, she'd been stood in pretty much the same spot for an hour now having given herself plenty of time to get here, missing her transport was not an option, the next bus isn't until tomorrow and she'd promised her mum she'd be there tonight, even if it was gonna be late.

The leggings might've been a good idea but maybe the footwear not so. It wasn't that they were that high, she'd learnt that lesson long ago, but they were quite restrictive and narrow, okay if you are moving but stood still... oh well, she could slip the bootees off when the coach picked her up.

One day Bea, one day, she berated herself. Yeah, maybe one day she'd get the whole 'dressed for travelling' thing cracked. Why is it that stuff you are normally quite comfortable in suddenly becomes a torture device when you get on a coach or train?
Dress for comfort, yeah that's a laugh.

A pair of headlamps appeared up the road, not the coach but some sort of van by the sounds of it. She felt very exposed, afraid even, a young woman alone on a country lane, yeah it might be a B road but that doesn't make it a super highway, not in rural Somerset at any rate. She awaited it's approach with some trepidation but it bounced down the road with no loss of speed, the wash from its passing causing her jacket to flap about even as it disappeared into the gloom.

She let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Damn, she never used to be this edgy but it seemed that she was getting jumpier almost by the day. Yes it pays for young women to be cautious, wary even but she was becoming paranoid.

It was part of the reason she'd picked Cadbury college, because it was 'safe', but all she'd really done was exchange one set of fears for another. Not for the first time she wondered if she'd done the right thing but as her parents had always said, you only have one crack at life, make the most of it. Easier said than done, we can all be wise after the event but making any decision isn't always easy.

Her parents hadn't been keen on her moving out here but it was her decision, her choice. Whether they'll be so sanguin with other choices she'd made, the least of which was dyeing her hair lilac. Yeah, she could hear dad's voice now, 'you look like one of them weirdo ee co warriors', yeah, dad was full of his pigeon-holing people.

Come on bus! She started to reach for her phone again but resisted, it would only make her more on edge to discover only another two minutes had passed since last time.

The driver wasn't exactly communicative when he did arrive, a cursory check of her booking and a grunt as he hefted her case into the hold. Not that the other passengers were saying much, each in their own little bubble of earphones, book or slumber. She found a seat by which time 'Happy' already had the coach in motion.

Between the steamed up windows and the low lighting it felt as though she was in a time warp, maybe in one of those old films set on a train. Bea made herself comfortable, well slightly less uncomfortable at least, slipping her boots off to relieve her toes. She wiped at the condensed window and stared out into the dark through her own reflection in the glass.

Three hours, three hours until the inevitable conversation, the conversation she'd been putting off for, well it seemed like forever. Mum'll be alright but Dad, well she'd never really been able to read his emotions, he was as likely to cry at a sad film as launch into a tirade against, well anything. One thing was for sure, there will be tears she'd, she allowed herself a little smile, good job she was wearing waterproof mascara!

The coach wound it's way through the country lanes, a stop at a village here, another at a sleepy country town, time slipping inexorably by as they edged north. No such luxury as even a dual carriageway in this backwater of the southwest of England. Not that she was concerned by that, in fact anything that delayed the upcoming conversation was good in her book.

She watched her dark reflection in the glass and let out a sigh. She was no beauty, well not in the classical sense, she knew that, but she liked to consider herself at least slightly cute. Blue eyes, high cheek bones and a chin that gave her a sort of heart shaped face, yeah even with the distraction of the lilac hair she looked cute.

She'd spent ages working on her makeup, to accentuate the cute, nobody can be angry with a cute girl for long, right? So it was a case of less is more, no heavy eyeliner or dark lippy, a more subtle approach was needed using earthier tones. She was pleased with the result even if her hair did clash a bit!

Another stop, another exchange of passengers, she checked the time, she'd be late of course but there was only another hour to go. As any good daughter would, she composed a quick text message to her mum, well at least she wouldn't worry so much. It was only a couple of minutes later that a reply arrived ' your dad will pick you up', bum!

She toyed with the idea of texting a no thanks, i'm alright reply but by now the wheels would be in motion and, and the walk to the house isn't exactly pleasant even if it's not that far. Let's face it, what student, what girl would turn down free transport? Which left her with an hour to work out how to handle it.

George Potter pulled into the kerb just ahead of where the coaches stop. It wasn't for the first time and he didn't suppose it would be the last, it was just part of being a parent. He checked the time, still a good half hour before the revised arrival time, time enough for the sports pages.

'Well, this is it,' Bea told herself as the coach made its approach to her stop in the middle of the town. At this stage in proceedings her options were really quite limited, get off and tough it out or stay on board and make her way back to Cadbury. Both options had their drawbacks but after weeks of planning, putting things off wouldn't make life any easier so bulling it out was it.

She gathered her belongings, wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled her coat back on, gloves and woolly hat followed by which time they were in the middle of Shepton. A couple of other passengers were already making their way forward even .as the driver announced their arrival. Once stopped she took a deep breath and followed them off, the driver already had her case on the pavement by the time she reached terra firma.

"You got a lift organised, s'not safe fer young uns this toime of night." the driver mentioned as he closed the locker.
"Er thanks, yeah my dad's picking me up."
"Tek care then guurl."

He climbed back on board leaving her alone on the quiet street.

George stowed his paper when he saw the coach go past before starting the motor in advance of driving down when it moved off. He saw a couple of passengers cross behind the coach then it pulled away. Expecting to see Potter junior waiting he was a bit confused to see only a young woman stood at the roadside.

Beatrice looked up the road, there was dad's car, where he usually waited. Knowing the usual pattern of events rather than heading along the road she waited where she was. Zero hour has arrived, she gathered herself and raising an arm, waved at the car.

The figure, the girl waved, clearly expecting someone to be waiting, George reflexively pulled forward, lowering the passenger window as he went. The light wasn't great but she looked a bit of a waif.

"you alright duck?" he asked leaning across the car.
"Hi dad."

"Jason?" George Potter querid somewhat confused by the person at the roadside.
"Yes dad but it's Beatrice now."

He'd poo-poohed Alice, his wife, when she'd said she thought something was going on with Jason. Never in a million years had he expected there to be meat on it and this, well talk about a curve ball.

"The back open?" the girl queried.
"A-er yes, you need a hand?"
"I might be a girl dad but I can manage my own bag."

Maddy Bell © 01.01.2020