THE NUMBER SEVEN BUS

(45 mins)
A play for radio by Paul Bura

(SUGGESTED OPENING MUSIC: The track ‘Two Blue’ by Victor Feldman from his 1958 album The Arrival of Victor Feldman)

SCENE ONE: (Pregnant woman is screaming. Back-round sound of bus being driven. Slight echo effect)

WOMAN:  (Gasping screams) M-my baby…my waters have broken…the baby is coming!

(Screams again, long and very loud. Sound of the bus brakes being applied. Screeching, squealing sound as bus comes to a halt …)

            (End echo effect)

                                    -------------------------------------------------------

­SC­­ENE TWO: (A church. Slight church echo. The catholic priest is rounding off his advice to an old Tramp)

CATHOLIC PRIEST:   …there is not much else that I can tell you, my son, except, and you may think this typical of a priest, but…well, here goes…‘Please hold the concept of love always in your mind’. (Pause) Now, God bless you and keep you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.

            (Door closes.  Sound of rain)

TRAMP:   (Northern Irish accent) Bugger that. I’ve other bleedin’ things on me mind. I mean what’s love got to do with anything? ‘Love thy neighbour’ an’ all that, he’s got to be kiddin’, so he has? The only things priests are good for is handing out cups o’ tea, they certainly can’t hand out advice…(Laughs to himself)…not for all the tea in China…an’ Jasus, it’s comin’ on to rain, so it is.

NARRATOR: (Young women’s voice) The tramp was waiting for the number seven bus that would take him to the other side of town where the Tesco’s skip would be full of tasties. If the bus didn’t get a move on all the tasties would be gone and there was unlikely to be anything left but bread…if he was lucky. The tasties took the form of out-of-date meat-pies, cakes and the like; sometimes there was even ham. They were all sealed up in cellophane, of course; the trouble was that it was all in a skip together like some huge pick n’ mix wagon. The priest had given him the price of a bus fare and apart from the tea that’s ALL he had given him…seemingly.

            (It’s raining as the old man waits for the bus and sarcastically he says)
 
TRAMP:   ‘Please keep the concept of love always in your mind.’ Phah! Load of ol’ bollocks, so it is.

(Bus pulls up and doors hiss open.  There are about three people before him. The tramp enters and goes to pay for his ticket)

TRAMP:   Yer ten minutes late according to the clock tower…

NARRATOR:   The driver was a rather overweight, sad-eyed man in his early 40’s, he took one sniff of the Tramp and ordered him off the bus.

DRIVER:   You’re not getting on MY bus smelling like that, mate.

TRAMP:    I’m not yer mate, and anyway I’ve got rights the same as the next bloke.

DRIVER:   The next bloke doesn’t smell like YOU do…MATE!

NARRATOR:   Apparently, the old Tramp dropped the money in the lap of the driver and dived for a seat. With the appalling stink on him the other passengers moved back a seat.

PASSENGER:  Phew, you smell like horseshit!

TRAMP:   That’s because I spent last night in some stables with a warm horse for company, you arsehole! (Pillock?)

DRIVER:   (Gets out of driver’s seat) Look, mate…

TRAMP:   For the last time: I’m not yer mate!

DRIVER:  Never mind about that. You’ll curb your language…or…I’ll…

            (Sound of a struggle)

TRAMP:   I’m not movin’…I’m not…movin’!

DRIVER:  Phew! Jesus Christ. I’m not even putting my hands on you…you aren’t worth it!

(Sound of driver getting back in his seat, closes the doors and drives off in the rain)

         
NARRATOR:   It was very wet that night and the bus swished through the deep puddles and rain. The bus was so warm that the old man didn’t feel like getting out, even at Tesco’s, and he started to nod off, he dreamt about the Priest. The few passengers that were left on the number seven bus gradually lessoned until there were just the old man and a pregnant lady. What this pregnant lady was doing on the bus at that time of night and in that weather would become all too plain as my story progresses. Suddenly the pregnant lady let out a scream, waking the old man up…

WOMAN:   (Screams) It’s coming! It’s coming! My water’s have broken. It’s coming!

NARRATOR:   She let out another piercing scream and the driver braked suddenly and hard! The old man and the pregnant lady felt themselves flying through the air and colliding.

(Sound of bus braking hard. Sound of old man and pregnant lady being moved violently)

TRAMP:   Ahhh, what’s happenin’, what’s happenin’? Ahhh.

WOMAN:      My baby, oh my baby!

            (Then silence apart from windscreen wipers whirring)

DRIVER:   (Gets out of seat) What the bloody hell is happening? What’s happening here?

NARRATOR:   The old man had been dreaming of what the priest had told him: Please keep the concept of love always in your mind and the next minute he was holding a crying infant, bawling for the breast. The driver just stared down at them, the now THREE of them.

DRIVER:   Bloody hell! Bloody, bloody hell!

NARRATOR:   The no-longer-pregnant lady was out cold having banged her head during the fall. The baby had landed right in the old man’s lap, if he hadn’t been there to break the baby’s fall it would have been fatally injured. Instinctively he held the child, this brand new child who was now in the arms of this dirty, stinking, beard-matted old man who didn’t care a damn about anything or anybody, let alone himself, and there he was holding this clean, wholesome child with the umbilical cord sticking out of her belly (It was a girl, that much he could tell)

            (Noise of baby crying uncontrollably)

TRAMP:   What in the name of Jasus…! (Then gently) Shhh! Shhh! What yer making that noise fer? Ooh, I’ve got yer, I’ve got yer now. Ah, you’ve got yer uncle Billy, now. Oh, no no no. Don’t you cry. Shhh! Shhh!

BABY:   (Suddenly stops crying. And makes little gurgling sounds)

NARRATOR:   The baby stopped crying and opened her bright blue eyes and made a slight gurgling noise; the baby appeared to be looking up at the old man’s face. He suddenly felt a surge of emotion; tears flowed down his face as he looked at the child in his arms. The driver, however, seemed to be frozen!

TRAMP: Get an ambulance! Get a bloody ambulance, will yer! Don’t just stand there with yer gob open. (Sniffs away the tears)

NARRATOR:   The driver came out of his trance-like state and made a call on his mobile phone.

DRIVER:   (Agitated. Stumbling) This is the number seven bus down William Street just past Tesco’s, I-I need an ambulance. Some lady has just had a baby on my bus…yes, a baby…and…and she seems to be unconsciousness…no, not the baby…the mother. Okay…yes. (To the tramp) They’re on their way.

TRAMP:   Well thank the good lord fer that!

DRIVER:   Er, um, w-what can I do? Tell me what I can do!

TRAMP:   Well you can look after the mother for a start…
  
DRIVER:   I’m not used to this…

TRAMP:    Well this may come as an awful shock to you but neither am I! Jasus, man, take yer coat off and put it under the poor girls head…

            (Sound of driver taking off his coat)

DRIVER:   There we are, love, the ambulance will soon be here…Will they be alright?

TRAMP:   (Still sniffing) I expect they will. Very resilient the human body, so it is. I’ll just keep this little mite warm in me greatcoat. (To baby) There we go, my lovely, there we go! (To driver) Her umbilical cord is still attached to her mother. We’ll leave the ambulance boys to sort that out. (Pause) She’s beautiful, aint she?

DRIVER:   (Wistfully) Yeh, she’s beautiful alright…really beautiful. Here, here’s a clean hanky. I’ll just wipe those little spots of blood off her little face…(pause while he wipes)…there, that’s better, isn’t it? (To baby)

TRAMP:   (Quietly to the baby) I was just dreamin’ about the priest and holding the concept of LOVE…I never dreamt that…and here yer are, here YOU are…the very concept of love…(he chuckles)

DRIVER:   What did you say?

TRAMP:   Um? Oh nothin’…just…just nothin’. I didn’t say anythin’ at all.

NARRATOR:   The ambulance arrived just as the young woman came round. The old man handed the baby to the driver and, whilst all the commotion was taking place, slipped quietly away and made his way back to the Tesco skip. There was only a single bread roll left. The old tramp smiled. Something had happened that night that was worth far more then a bread roll…and he knew it! 
  

SCENE THREE.

NARRATOR:   The Driver.  They had never wanted children, either his wife or him. They bought a little house in the suburbs and settled down to one holiday a year and a cruise at Christmas (he had to put in for the Christmas holiday about six months ahead as the bus company couldn’t really spare drivers over the Christmas period). They had both married in their late thirties having never been married before. Both of them had lost their parents when in their twenties and both of them had put money away for a rainy day. So when they did get married they bought the little house, having only a very small mortgage to pay.
           She had trained as a nurse and was now looking after the terminally ill. He had been a bus driver all his working life, though he started off as a bus conductor until the changeover to ‘drivers only’.
            She had first noticed the lumps in her left breast when she did her monthly check; she also felt a kind of stiffness in her left arm. The growths had turned out to be cancerous. Her experience with cancer patients had led her to avoid chemotherapy and to plumb for radiation treatment instead, against her specialist advice. Her husband went to see her every day. He had put on a vast amount of weight. The stress of losing her right before his eyes caused him to over-eat, to try and cover up the pain, his sense of losing her. For others they would go OFF their food: each to his or her own, I suppose.

            (Sound of hospital bustle)

DRIVER:   Hello love…

            (Sound of a kiss)

DRIVER:   How are you today?

WIFE:   (Bravely) Oh, you know: so-so. Feeling pretty weak. You know.

DRIVER:   I’ve had a word with the specialist…

WIFE:   He’s told you then…(starts to cry)

DRIVER:   I-I don’t know what to say, darling. He says that he can do re-construction work and…

WIFE:   (Still crying) He says that he…he…might be able to do re-construction work…it all depends…and I’ll have to go on chemo…

DRIVER:   But you didn’t want that.

WIFE:   I know…but it’s spread to the other breast now…

DRIVER:   The specialist didn’t tell me that!

WIFE:   I know…

DRIVER:   But…

WIFE:   (Sniffing) I thought that I should be the one…that I should be the one to…to tell you.

            (Starts to cry uncontrollably)

DRIVER:   Oh love…my poor darling. Is there nothing they can do…nothing at all?

WIFE:   No, nothing. Perhaps they’ll be able to cut the cancer out completely and with chemo and radiation therapy they may be a chance…(Starts to cry again)…but it’s spread to my lymph glands…and you know what that means? With the chemo I’ll feel like shit, my hair will fall out and…and…(pause) I am going to die. It’s as simple as that.

DRIVER:   Don’t love, don’t. (Whispers) I don’t want to lose you. If I lost you I don’t know what I would do. (Starts to cry) Life would not be worth living without you.

WIFE:   (Pause) Promise me something…

DRIVER:    Anything, my love, anything…

WIFE:   That you will marry again…

DRIVER:   No! I…

WIFE:   …and have children.

            (Pause)

DRIVER:   We already spoke about that and we both agreed…

WIFE:   PROMISE ME! …Promise me. 

DRIVER:   You are not going to die. Don’t you realise the absurdity of what you are saying? You-are-not-going-to-die.

WIFE:    Yes-I-am…and you know that I am. It’s spreading. It’s eating me up, darling…(starts to cough and choke)

DRIVER:   (calls) Nurse! Nurse! She’s choking.

NURSE:   (Comes in) It’s alright…(sound. Lifts her up) It’s congestion…help me lift her…I’ll get some water…

            (Sound of water being poured)

DRIVER:   Is she going to be alright?

2ND NURSE:  Yes…she’s going to be okay…aren’t you?

WIFE:   (Drinks) Yes…don’t worry, darling…I’m not going yet…but I have to rest now…

DRIVER:   I-I’ll be just outside the door…

WIFE:   (Breathlessly) No, no. You go home, there’s a love…I’ll be okay…right nurse?

1ST NURSE:  She’ll be okay. You go home and rest. We’ll look after her.  Promise.

NARRATOR:   He wandered out in a daze. She WAS going to die. The other nurses knew, they always knew. In the days that followed she would tease him about his weight and his thick neck and stomach and he would tease her about her LOSS of weight. They laughed together, but inside they were both crying. They didn’t mention a child again, didn’t mention it at all, but they both thought it.
            He was allowed to stay with her even when she slipped into a coma, the concoction of heroin and morphine were gently trickled into her veins so that there was not even the remotest chance of pain. And when she breathed her last the machine was switched off, and he was left alone with the silence.
            Silent tears welled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he bent to kiss her and somehow he thought that his wet tears on her face would evaporate, as her spirit had evaporated, and she would take them with her to wherever she was going. He had held back his tears, but the dam suddenly broke and he sobbed out his goodbyes in huge wads of grief. Though in truth he had said his goodbyes when she went into the coma. He knew then that he had lost her.
           
Four weeks had past since the funeral and he was driving the Number Seven bus along William Street. It was the evening shift and it was raining so hard that he could hardly see out the windscreen, even though he had the wipers on full throttle. He could just see a figure waving him down at a request stop. He stopped and opened the doors. She was very pretty and heavily pregnant and very wet. He asked her where she wanted to go and she muttered something about “Anywhere…as far as you can go, just get me away from here,” she said. She kept looking behind her as if someone were after her. She was in a hurry for him to drive off as fast as he could, that was obvious. She paid her fare and went and sat at the back.

The next stop was St Mary’s church. There were about three fares: two women and a man. He was about to close the doors when an old tramp shuffled up the stairs.

DRIVER:   Bloody ‘ell, mate, you stink! If you think you’re getting’ on my bus you’ve got another think coming!

TRAMP:   Look, I’ve got me rights, so I have, I’ve got as much rights as the next bloke.

DRIVER:   The next bloke doesn’t stink like you do and…

NARRATOR:   With that the tramp dumps the cash right in the driver’s lap and dives for a seat. You wouldn’t have thought the old man could move so fast! The driver got up from his seat and made to pull the old man off but thought better of it and went back, closed the doors and drove off into the night. The other customers, quite rightly, moved as far away as they could from the old tramp.
            Most of the people had got off and the driver was thinking about his wife, his late wife, and how he would be going home to an empty, cold house, where once she had greeted him with a smile, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, and the smell of warm food would taunt him. They would take it in turns to cook. Whoever was home first; they liked cooking, especially together. Then came the scream! The young pregnant woman had said something, then another piercing scream! He jammed on his brakes.
            What happened next he didn’t quite know. All he knew was that by applying the brakes to the bus hard had somehow moved the old man and this pregnant young woman on a collision course. When he stood up to see what the commotion was about the young woman was lying in the middle of the isle and the old tramp had got a baby in his arms.
            The old man starting yelling at him:

TRAMP:   Get an ambulance! Get an ambulance!

NARRATOR: …and indicating with his head to where the young woman was lying spark out. For what seemed an age he couldn’t move. Then the old man spoke again:

TRAMP:   Call an ambulance, can’t yer? Are yer dif or somethin’?

NARRATOR:   And he came out of his reverie and pulled out his mobile and dialled 999. He asked for the ambulance service to attend a young woman who had just had a baby and was unconscious on his Number Seven bus in William Street. He did what he could for the young woman, took off his coat and put it under her head.  The baby was crying so the old man tucked the little thing into his old army greatcoat and it stopped crying and opened its bright blue eyes. He remembered getting out a handkerchief and wiping the spots of blood from the babies face. The old man had said the baby was beautiful and what did he think?

DRIVER:    Yeh, she’s beautiful, alright, really beautiful!

NARRATOR:   When the ambulance arrived the old man passed the baby to the driver, who was too stunned to refuse, and got off the bus and out into the rain!
            It was whilst he was holding the baby that he looked into its little face, and then she opened those bright blue eyes. He realised then, in those few seconds, what he had been missing all those years. A child. And for some reason he heard his wife’s voice:
 
WIFE:   It’s still not too late, if you lose a little weight! (And his wife’s gentle laughter) 

DRIVER:   Maybe it’s NOT too late, my darling, maybe it’s not too late at all!

PARAMEDIC:   What’s not too late, mate, what’s not too late? What the lady and her baby? Naw, they’re going to be alright...(baby talk. Referring to the baby) aren’t you my little love?

DRIVER:   No. Never mind…here, you take the baby…and anyway, it’s far too complicated…or maybe it’s just TOO simple, too simple!

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SCENE FOUR.

NARRATOR:   The Pregnant Woman’s new husband had been drinking. What made him angry? What didn’t make him angry. He threw the plate of steaming stew and dumplings across the room and up against the wall!

            (Sound of plate smashing against the wall)

HUSBAND:   What’s this friggin’ crap? You know what you can do with that. I want steak, you know, REAL meat not friggin’ dog bones…

            (Sound of chair being moved back and table being turned over)

WOMAN:   (Screams. Very frightened) Y-y-you don’t give me enough money for steak…what d’ you want me to do conjure it out of thin air…

HUSBAND:   Ahhhhh! (In rage)

            (Sound of a slap. Sound of woman falling over)

WOMAN:   NO!…no, mind the baby.

(Sound of woman getting up and running out the room and slamming door behind her!)

HUSBAND:    Come ‘ere, you friggin’ bitch!

NARRATOR:   It was time for her to hide in the little cupboard under the stairs. She knew what was coming, it was boiling behind his eyes, not just a slap this time: his fists were coming, that’s what, and she had to protect her baby at all costs!

(Sound of opening cupboard under the stairs and closing it. She was inside breathing heavily. She heard him open the door and come out of the kitchen)

HUSBAND:   Come out of there you bitch! (Hammering on door)

NARRATOR:   Spittle formed around his now twisted mouth. He banged on the little door trying to smash it open with his fists.

            (Sound of banging)

HUSBAND:   I’ll get you, you hear me in there? I’ll bloody get you and that brat you’re carrying!  You’ll never get away from me. NEVER!

            (Continues to bang on door)

NARRATOR:  Mercifully the little door held as she sat with her back against it. Every blow reverberated through her, and she felt her baby move.

(Banging suddenly stops. Footsteps and the sound of crockery being smashed)

 NARRATOR:   She winced with fear. She, being in the little cupboard under the stairs so he couldn’t get to her, to punish her, to hurt her and her baby, made him blind as a mole with fury.

(Sound of him lurching from kitchen. Sound of grinding crockery underfoot)

 NARRATOR:  He threw a last kick at the little door behind which his wife cowered.

            (Sound of violent kick)

 At this kick she gave a small, piteous cry…

WOMAN:  (Muffled scream) 

NARRATOR:   And the baby moved again. Then the clink of bottle against glass…

            (Sound of clinking bottle and drink being poured)

 and the creak of his body-weight as he sat down in the old armchair.

            (Sound of heavy body as he sits down full weight) 

HUSBAND:   (Shouts from front room) You can’t hide from me all friggin’ night; I’ll get you, you bitch, you friggin’ bitch!

            (She is sobbing quietly)

NARRATOR:   She crouched in the dark crying softly. He had been so kind to her, so gentlemanly. He was so handsome in his well-cut bespoke suit and Van Housen shirt, the hand-made shoes, the expensive aftershave; fancy restaurants, clubs and bars. He was something in the city, he had said and she believed him. Why should she NOT believe him? He had this house, didn’t he? He had a brand new BMW. The only thing was: her mother didn’t like him

MOTHER:   I can’t help it, darling, but I don’t trust him. If you bring him round I’ll be polite, I wont make a fuss and I wont embarrass you in front of him…but there’s just SOMETHING…

 NARRATOR:    Her father had died some years ago so it was just her and her mother. She had a good job as manager of a Holiday Agency and her mother had a part-time job and a small pension from her late husband’s works. It wasn’t as though her mother made a habit of vetting her boyfriends, but him she just didn’t like.

MOTHER:   …some thing about him, darling, that’s all. I can’t quite put my finger on it. But if YOU like him then there’s no more to be said.

NARRATOR:   Her mother had been right (aren’t they always?).  He was a small-time crook and conman. The house he rented, the BMW he rented but the suits and the shoes were all that really belonged to him, bought and tarnished with other people’s money.  She married him in a whirl of romance when he was flush with money. He always drank, but not to excess…usually, though he did drink every day. But she was so in love with him that she hardly noticed. He bowled her over with his sharp talk and quick wit.
            They had been married only a month before he hit her for the first time. She was out shopping with him and she happened to bump into an old boyfriend, an old boyfriend who had since married and who was out for the day with his young children. When he got her home he punched her in the face and when she went down he kicked her.

HUSBAND:   THAT’S… (Simultaneous sound of a punch) what you get for flirting…

            (She screams. Dull thud as she hits the floor)

 and THAT’S… (Simultaneous sound of a kick) what you get for showing me up! (Breathing heavily with the exertion))

WOMAN:   (Crying and in pain) He…he was…an old boyfriend. He was out with his kids…I didn’t mean…

HUSBAND:   Yeh, well. (Pause) I get really jealous, that’s all…let…let me help you up. I just get really wound up…I promise that it wont happen again. I swear to you…on your mother’s life.

NARRATOR:   She believed him. After all she WAS in love. At work the next day she told the old story of having bumped into a door! She was pregnant within two months of the marriage and he blamed HER for not taking precautions! The bigger she got the more angry he became.

HUSBAND:   It’s like sleeping with a bleedin’ whale and I don’t like shagging whales. I’m going down the pub. Don’t wait up.

BACK TO SCENE FIVE

NARRATOR:   She waited and listened under the stairs. The baby was restless. There were only a couple of weeks to go before it was due. She could hear him snoring. He always snored particularly loud when he was drunk, so she eased herself out of the cupboard, put on her coat, and closed the front door quietly behind her. It was raining pretty hard and about 9.30 at night. She caught the Number Seven Bus that went all the way across town, not caring where she ended up. She dare not go to her mother’s, as when he woke up that would be the first place that he would look.
             
            The smelly old tramp with the matted beard she could hear arguing with the driver. He plonked some money down in the driver’s lap and not waiting for a ticket pushed his way onto the bus. The driver got out of his seat and tried to make the old man get off. They argued again for a bit but then the driver left him alone and went back to his driver’s seat and drove off. The other passengers all went back a seat as the old man smelt like a polecat not that she’d ever smelt a polecat.
            Like the old man she dozed but then woke up with a sharp pain so sever that she gasped and screamed all at the same time.

            (The woman screams)

WOMAN:   M-My waters have broken! It’s coming, my baby is coming!

NARRATOR:   She screamed again and the old man turned around immediately noticing that he and the pregnant woman were all the passengers that were left on the bus. At the sound of the second scream the driver applied his brakes and then she was flying through the air…then blackness.
            She woke up with the ambulance men looking down at her and the driver holding this little pink thing with the blue eyes and she was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen and she was dimly aware that her head hurt and then she blacked out again.

NARRATOR:   She woke up in hospital with a little cot beside her.

NURSE:   You have been in the wars, haven’t you? And you’ve just had a baby girl!
(Sound of woman weeping. The narrator speaks OVER the sound of  weeping)

NARRATOR:   She couldn’t stop from crying. She didn’t know WHY she was crying whether it was because she had got away from her husband or whether she was just happy because her baby was safe? Anyway, the tears flowed and flowed.

WOMAN:   (Tearfully) Can I have my baby, can I?

NURSE:   Of course you can. (Lifts baby out of cot) There we are…

WOMAN:   Oh, hello, hello my darling girl…

NURSE:   (Baby starts to cry) I think she’s hungry.

WOMAN:   I think this is what you want…there…(baby stops crying and is feeding)
Oh but this is bliss, this is the most pleasurable of things. Look at you little scrap of life. Oh my darling little girl. (Sighs) This I know: that I will never leave you, never desert you and always, always love you. I shall call you Mandy, I don’t know why. But I will. Hello Mandy, my darling, and what have you been doing all my life?

NARRATOR:   The little girl gurgled and little noises of satisfaction rose from her as she opened her sky blue eyes and looked at her mummy for the first time. Little did her MUMMY know that the little child that lay so warmly in her arms had first opened her sky blue eyes and beheld an old, and very smelly, Tramp.

            The social worker came and she explained the beatings that her husband had given her and of course the police were just waiting for an excuse to arrest him. She said that she was prepared to go to court.
            Her mother arrived.

WOMAN’S MOTHER:  Ah, she’s SO beautiful (to baby), aren’t you, sweetheart. Yes. (To her daughter) This, my darling, is the most beautiful of gifts…and I am SO happy for you and so proud…and, and…No, I don’t think we will mention him…just yet. You just enjoy your baby, darling; just enjoy your Mandy.

SCENE SIX.  (Still in the hospital)

NURSE:   There are two policemen waiting to see you. Now you don’t HAVE to see them. Shall I ask them to go?

WOMAN:   No, no…I’ve been expecting them. Please show them in.

            (Door opens)

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR:  Nice to see you again, ma’am. I hear congratulations are in order. Is this the little chap?

WOMAN:   It’s a girl, Inspector; but thank you.

DET’ INS’:  Er, this is Detective Constable Brown, ma’am, I don’t think you’ve seen him before.

BROWN:   Ma’am.

WOMAN:   Hello.

DET’ INS’:  Well, I’ll come straight to the point, ma’am. I hear that your husband has been…um…

WOMAN:   Knocking me about, inspector? Yes he has. And ‘yes’ the last time I saw you I lied, I lied about the fact that my husband had been with me all that night and was with me until the time that you, inspector, arrived.

DET’ INSP’:  And why did you lie, ma’am?

WOMAN:   I lied because my husband had threatened to harm our…MY child. He threatened to beat my body so badly that I would miscarry…I was terrified...

 (Pause whilst woman composes herself)

BROWN:   Would you like a drink of water?

WOMAN:   …no, no, no, I’m alright…THAT’S why I lied inspector, THAT’S why I lied. I had to. It’s as simple as that.

DET’ INSP’:  I know. I knew all along, actually. The fear on your face at the time gave you away.

WOMAN:   I’ve never been very good at lying.

DECT’ INSP’   Well…thank you. We’ll leave you alone for now. (To Brown) Brown?

BROWN:   Goodbye.

DET’ INSP’:  You’ll be hearing from us again of course. Enjoy your baby.

WOMAN:   Inspector?

DET’ INSP’:  (Pause) Don’t worry. We’ve got him now. He’ll never harm you again. I promise.

WOMAN:   (Softly) Thank you.

NURSE:   (Pause) There’s another gentleman to see you, dear.

WOMAN:   Who is it?

NURSE:   I think it’s the driver of the bus you were travelling on. Shall I show him in?

            (Sound of door. Door re-opens. Few footsteps)

WOMAN:   Hello. I think I owe you a great deal of thanks.

DRIVER:   (Awkwardly) Oh, well. It’s what anyone would have done in the circumstances…this her?

WOMAN:   Yes. Her name’s Mandy.

DRIVER:   Mind if I have a peek?

WOMAN:   No, of course not. You were the first person that I saw holding her. I think you have every right…

DRIVER:   Er, no. Actually …(pause)

WOMAN:   Oh, you mean the ambulance man?

DRIVER:   (Changes his mind about the Tramp) Er, yes…the ambulance man…I was going to say ‘the ambulance man’. (Pause) She’s got the same colour eyes as you…bright blue…bright blue.

WOMAN:   You are the first person to notice.

DRIVER:   Am I? (Pause) Well I just popped in to see how you were getting on.

WOMAN:   I’m so glad that you did.

DRIVER:   (Pause) Um, may I come again?

WOMAN:   Yes, I shall be here for a couple of days more. I’d like that…

             
SCENE SEVEN (Outside the hospital. Sound of traffic. Ambulance siren etc)

TRAMP:   Is she alright?

DRIVER:   What are YOU doing here?

TRAMP:   What’s it to you?   Is she ALRIGHT?

DRIVER:   Yes, she’s alright.

TRAMP:   And the little ‘un?

DRIVER:   Yes, they are both doing fine. She’s named the little girl Mandy.

TRAMP:   Mandy, eh? Pretty name…well…well, that’s alright then. I’ll be on me way, so I will…

DRIVER:   Fancy some fish n’ chips?

TRAMP:   (Pause) Well, if yer’re buyin’?  There was just an old bread roll left in the Tesco’s skip. But I had to come…had to come to see how she – THEY - was doin’. 

DRIVER:   I’m glad you did. Oh and I’m buying (he laughs)…I’m buying.

TRAMP:   Something’s happened to me and I don’t know what…that little child…I mean she landed right in my arms, so she did, and there’s me dreamin’ of what the priest said: Please hold the concept of love always in your mind…and I woke up…well you know what happened, so you do?

DRIVER:   (Pause) Yeh, I think she changed something in me, too. I’ve never held a baby before. Those blue eyes…her mother’s eyes are the same colour…I don’t know whether I have a chance but I’ll be seeing her AND her mother again…I’ve just got this feeling…(Pauses)

TRAMP:   I know…yer grab happiness by the scruff of its neck and don’t let go.

DRIVER:   I intend to, don’t you worry about that. I’ll give it my best shot…

            (Fade sound)

               …my best shot…Now what do you fancy, Cod or haddock…?

            ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------  

WOMAN:    I-I wonder whether you would do me the honour of…of being Mandy’s Godfather? 

DRIVER:   I-I thought we could…(embarrassed pause)

WOMAN:   What?  I’ll quite understand if you don’t want to, only I…

DRIVER:   No no…no. I’d be very proud to be a Godparent of your beautiful baby, very proud indeed.

 
NARRATOR:   So then, unless you’d already guessed, this is my story as he and my mother told it to me. My Godparent -The Driver of the Number Seven Bus – finally got married again himself to a fellow bus driver and they had a baby boy. Every birthday I receive a hand-made card of a picture of a bus, a number seven bus. They’ve changed over the years, but it’s STILL a number seven. My mother has never married again, (laughingly) although she has had the odd boyfriend. I told her, I said: “Don’t give up, mother, there’s someone out there for you.”    I don’t know what happened to the Tramp, he was never seen again after that fish and chip meal, but without him…well without him I wouldn’t be telling this story…now would I?  Oh, and by-the-way, it would appear that the sense of smell brings back, or stimulates, memory: the smell of horse manure has always seemed very pleasant to me…very pleasant; odd that, or maybe…maybe not so odd, eh?
                             
             

END

(Fade out music with Victor Feldman’s gentle ‘Too Blue’)