21:53
Unknown
Author: Jon Harrison
Travelling home from Manchester to Sheffield, the young woman was feeling tired and jaded. A delayed flight, two items of missing luggage and a long wait on a railway platform had left her looking quite wiped out. She was longing for a bath and the comfort of familiar surroundings.
There were few passengers, other than herself, waiting at the terminus, and when they climbed on the bus most of them settled near to the front while the young woman moved further towards the back, hoping to find peace and privacy for the final stage of the journey.
She was aware, as she moved along the aisle, that a figure had followed her and as she seated herself, she glanced back and saw a tall, broad shouldered man throw a small holdall onto a seat a few yards from where she was, but instead of sitting down, he swung round and grasping the headrests of two seats directly opposite him he began to peer through the window, sweeping his eyes from right to left. At first she thought he was looking for someone, who was probably late, but eventually realised he was looking more often in her direction and that he was in fact studying her.
Dusk was beginning to fall so she could see his reflection in the window fairly clearly as he glanced from side to side and she noted that the man who kept smiling towards her was exceptionally handsome and powerfully built with dark curly hair and a wide friendly grin.
The young women continued to look out into the gathering dusk as the bus set off, deciding to completely ignore his glances, but she had to admit to feeling momentarily flattered as he continued to look back towards her and at one point tried to open a conversation. She smiled vaguely looking away, but he persisted more loudly, suddenly moving from his opinion about the weather by exclaiming, "Oh look there's a monkey on that roof."
The young woman gave him a measured look as she thought to herself, well now, there's a novel approach. But on turning her head and looking to where he was pointing, she could see there was indeed a monkey on the flat roof of a pet shop. It was chained to a post and a woman and a child were feeding it. The young woman's attention was diverted for a few seconds and in that time the man had left his seat to take a better look and moved further up the bus. Glancing upwards, she was suddenly aware of the bulky figure moving towards her and some thought of self preservation made her bend forward to pick up an overnight bag, which she'd placed on the floor. Holding it like some kind of shield, she thought she saw his intention to move closer to her and quickly plonked the bag on the seat directly across the aisle at the side of her; thus preventing him from coming too near.
The man then took the seat just in front of the barrier she'd erected, sitting at an angle with his legs in the narrow passageway so that he more or less faced her. He then began to talk to her about unkindness to animals and how dreadful some people were inflicting cruelty on weaker creatures. Chiding herself for being suspicious and silly she relaxed, deciding to ignore the trapped feeling that had overcome her as he sat down. He was an interesting person and he made many points which could not be disputed about the care of animals; a subject she was obviously interested in, and as he spoke she watched him, noting that his physical appearance gave him a commanding presence and the quality of his clothes added stature to his appearance. He also had a firm, pleasing voice, deep with a hint of laughter here and there, which probably explained her inability to cut the conversation short without seeming rude and to forget her Mother's oft repeated quotes, ‘You can't tell a book by it's cover,' and ‘All that glistens is not gold.'
The young woman relaxed even further as they travelled away from the City centre and found herself responding to his humour in spite of her initial reservations. She agreed with much that he had to say as he expressed himself very easily and he also pleased her by listening most courteously to her contributions to the conversation as they travelled through the small townships and villages which edged the moors leading to Sheffield and home.
The bulk of the passengers who had climbed onto the bus in Manchester had left at different stops along the way, leaving just one couple seated near to the front, who were deep in conversation, and the young woman and the man at the back, but the she still felt quite confident at this stage and believed she could deal with any situation that might arise. The man continued to speak in an intelligent, lively manner and the young woman leaned back reasonably happy and at ease listening to what he had to say on a variety of subjects, but as the journey continued she began to realise how very tired she was and wished he‘d go away. Her own thoughts began to predominate and the movement of the bus made her want to close her eyes and just be alone when she suddenly realised that his tone and manner had changed as he asked her what she felt about God.
Unaccustomed to revealing her innermost feelings and beliefs to a total stranger, she told him that like most of her friends and contemporaries she tried to follow the Christian religion. She wasn't prepared to go any further and tried to move him away from the subject, but he was determined not to budge and continued to pursue his line of thought.
He told her that God had, recently spoken to him directly. At the moment he had heard God's voice he had, in fact, been standing in the pantry of his home, taking the top off a bottle of brown sauce when he had been alerted by a buzzing in his ears and God had told him that he had been chosen to take the place of Christ upon the Earth.
Faint amusement rose within the young woman plus a strong scepticism as he continued to describe the event in some detail. Why? she thought, had he not been asked to carry out Christ's work rather than being asked to take his place and why had God chosen to call him when he was shaking a bottle of brown sauce? She didn't, however, challenge him as she had particularly enjoyed the detail he'd given about the size of the sandwich he'd been making and the irrelevant information relating to the proximity of a window which had allowed the moon to shine in, flooding the place with light. She could already hear herself retelling the tale to friends, embellishing the story with droll asides and emphatic nods of the head which she knew would draw peals of laughter. But she did feel compelled to question the man about the authenticity of the strange happenings, asking in a fairly firm manner, "Are you having me on?" But he assured her that God had spoken and had later told him to smash the television set as it was an instrument of the devil. She started at this disclosure and wished she'd never allowed the conversation to develop.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind alarm bells had started to ring and she wondered now whether it wouldn't be considered too ill mannered if she just excused herself and took out a book. She'd always found such items useful barriers against unwelcome intrusions in the past; not only could one hide behind the printed page, it was also an interesting way of passing on an hour, and the thought of an absorbing read was infinitely more preferable to listening to the outpourings of someone she was suspecting of being slightly deranged.
Darkness was all around her as they journeyed over the moor. Nothing could be seen other than the occasional outline of a tree or rock caught momentarily in the headlights of the bus, but she didn't feel too isolated or fearful until the bus suddenly stopped in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere and the remaining couple climbed off. To add to her mounting feeling of unease, the driver of the bus, who was seated in a separate cubicle, cut off from the passengers, turned and pulled down a blind so that the lights inside the bus would not annoy him. At this point the young woman became extremely fearful as she realised that she was completely alone with somebody who was most certainly teetering on the edge of madness.
This suspicion was borne out as the man began to explain in greater detail further instances when God had spoken directly to him. He also told her that he came from a seaside resort. His home was in Blackpool and he'd often got up in the middle of the night and donned a cloak and sandals to walk along the beach so that he could feel the sand beneath his feet and walk as Christ had walked in the Holy Lands. To further his experiences of Christ's sufferings, he'd also made for himself a crown of thorns and always felt the sharpness of the spiky leaves pressing into his temple even when he had laid the crown to one side.
By now the young woman was thoroughly frightened not only by what he had to say, but also because the rapidity of his speech was intensified by the passions that were flowing through him as he told her of the fiends and demons which pursued him even in his dreams. At one point they had driven him to the edge of a chasm. Fortunately he had awoken in time, but he had found himself some distance away from the house where he lived, and had almost fallen into a deep and dangerous hole. The fiends had been sitting along a fence and had broken through at a weak point, calling him to jump. But God had intervened and saved him because he was the chosen one.
Well on the alert by now and concerned by the fixation of the man's gaze, the young woman listened carefully and merely commented, without the slightest hint of irony in her voice, that he'd had a very close shave indeed.
He went on to tell her that his wife and daughters had been most disturbed by his actions and revelations, and had often burst into tears as they realised the enormity of the task he'd been given to do. Sick with apprehension and nervous about any move the man might make, the young woman sympathised with the troubles he was obviously facing and agreed that such news as he had outlined to her could surely create as many problems as possible joys. She made no attempt to argue or question, but quietly agreed with everything he said in a placating manner, trying all the time to twist and turn the conversation into more conventional paths as they travelled over the moor. At the same time she mulled over another one of her Mother's famous sayings of, ‘A watched pot never boils,' and prayed that the adage would prove to be right, even if she was obviously watching a cracked pot, which could, if thought through to its logical conclusion, boil even more quickly as the liquid seeped out.
The time seemed to drag interminably as the man babbled on about the Prince of Darkness, Lucifer and the joys that he would eventually inherit, but at last the lights of the City came into view, illuminating familiar buildings and places, helping to assuage the terror and fear she had felt earlier.
Drawing nearer to the terminus and the end of the journey the young woman decided to leave the bus before they arrived at their destination, even though it would mean a longer walk to the taxi rank. She wanted to disassociate herself from any connection at all with the man, angry that he had made her feel afraid and lose her belief in herself. Telling him she was getting off the bus at the next stop, she waited for him to move his legs out of the way, picked up her bags, wished him a polite goodnight and made her way down the aisle of the bus to catch the driver's attention, quietly thanking God for her salvation.
Eventually, calm once more and safely in a taxi, she thought about her experience and remembered the opinion of an old friend whose guidance and advice she'd always valued. He had told her that in any given number of people there will always be one suffering a mental illness. He had pointed out that if that person thought herself to be the Mona Lisa or believed himself to be either Napoleon or possibly King George the Fifth, then the authorities knew how to deal with him or her, not only for their own safety, but also for that of the general public. However there were others, who sometimes appeared normal and at other times slipped over the edge of normality, scrabbling and clutching at sanity, drifting in and out of madness, possibly aware that something was wrong, but unable to control or understand it.
The young woman knew she had just shared a short period of Hell with such a person and had looked into the chaos of his mind. Vaguely ashamed that she had intended using the beginning of their meeting to her own advantage she tried to compose her thoughts and rid herself of the last residues of resentment she held against the man.
Leaning back in the taxi, she half smiled to herself ruefully, and wondered whether he had in fact been laughing at her; using her fear and astonishment for his own sport and amusement. Unable to make up her mind about the man, she knew she could make one statement without fear of contradiction; he had been decidedly odd, but she was determined that an hour spent in his company was not going to shake her confidence. When she climbed out of the taxi she warned herself as she inserted the key in the lock, that she must not look up or down the street or glance behind her as her instincts told her to do. But her fingers, belying her convictions, shook and trembled so much that in her anxiety she found herself looking fearfully all around her before entering the safety of her home.
