Bitter Sweet (12 page)

‘You’ve no idea what this means,’ I said. ‘You’re a real angel.’

‘Oh, give over,’ Zora said, giving me a nudge with her elbow. ‘Go and get those girls ready.’

‘I’ll look you up when it’s all over,’ I said. ‘Promise.’

I wanted to bounce down to Ivonne and the girls. A look in the wing mirror put paid to that idea: the BMW had drawn parallel to the bus.

‘Go!’ Zora said. ‘I’ll hold them off.’

The bus swerved. Swinging from one grab handle to the next, I reached Ivonne.

‘We’re changing buses two stops up the line.’

‘You seen where that BMW is?’

‘So has Zora.’

‘The driver? She’s helping us?’

‘And the next bus driver. We’ve just got to survive the next stop.’

The bus lurched to the right. I turned and swung my way back to the front. From there I glanced at the wing mirror; the BMW had backed off.

‘Single lane coming up,’ Zora said. ‘The BMW wants in front.’

I looked through the windscreen. Another three hundred metres and the two lanes reduced to one. Beyond that was the bus shelter.

‘That the next stop?’ I asked.

‘Yes, and there’s a passenger waiting, going to have to stop.’

In the wing mirror I caught sight of the BMW as it accelerated forwards.

‘Zora!’

‘Seen it.’

Zora turned the wheel.
The bus drifted over the short broken white lines separating the lanes of the carriageway. The BMW dropped back. I glanced at the left-hand wing mirror.

‘On your left.’

‘Seen it.’

Zora swayed the bus to
and fro, in a serpentine motion over the dividing line. I watched the BMW in the mirrors as it swung from one side of the carriageway to the other, attempting to overtake.

Zora began to brake as the dual carriageway narrowed.

The man at the bus stop was fiddling with a mobile phone, but as we approached, he stood up in readiness to board.

Zora kept the speed up, only to brake at the last moment. The bus decelerated rapidly. The momentum forced me to grab hold of the overhead rail to stop me from careening into the windscreen.

I glanced at the mirror. The BMW had its indicator on, ready to pull out.

Zora opened the door. 

‘Quickly,’ I shouted at the young man, who gawked at me as he jumped on.

‘Get your ass on to a seat!’

Zora closed the door.

The man hurried
down the bus. Zora pressed down on the accelerator pedal. The engine bellowed. Zora turned the wheel. The man swayed with the movement of the bus on to a free seat.

I checked the wing mirror. The BMW braked hard, halfway along the side of the bus, flashing its lights.

I turned to check on the passengers. The man who’d just boarded raised his mobile phone. I swung my head around. No way friend, are you photographing me. I checked in the central mirror. Damn, he
was
photographing me. I hoped he’d only captured legs, bum and back, and no facial.

‘How far to the next stop?’

‘Just under a mile,’ Zora said. ‘We’ll make it.’

I hung on to the overhead rail and stood b
eside Zora, my attention flicking between the road ahead and the wing mirrors. We were on a busy thoroughfare; shops and takeaways lining both sides of the road. With every gap in the traffic the BMW pulled out. So far no opportunity for it to overtake had arisen, but that could change at any moment.

Zora slowed as she approached a zebra crossing. She timed it well; the pedestrians crossed and the bus was able to roll through without having to stop.

A junction with traffic lights came into view. If that light turned red and we had to stop, the BMW could easily overtake the bus by using the oncoming lane – a highly illegal and dangerous manoeuvre, but one I’d done myself.

Would the BMW’s driver risk trying to force the bus to come to a stop? In time, yes.

The light changed to red.

Zora began to brake and said; ‘W
e’ll get through it on green, I know the phasing.’

I stared at the red light, dubiously.

Zora checked her mirrors. ‘There are now two black BMWs.’

‘Oh shit,’ I
said, taking a look. ‘The boss guy is in the second one, and he’s one nasty piece of work.’

And worse still with both cars now on our tail, any chance of outwitting the pursuit by changing buses had gone out the window.

‘You’ll make it,’ Zora said softly.

I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the green light, or our chances of reaching Crew Street Station.

‘How many stops does the Dean Street bus make before it reaches Queensway?’

‘Three.’

‘Ah,’ I breathed. One stop before Erjon could be sure if we’d changed buses, or whether the change was just a ruse. By the second stop he’d know for sure, and might make a move, or wait for the third stop.

‘Zora,’ I said, ‘any chance you can hold them off once we change buses?’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Thanks, maybe that will keep them guessing a while longer.’

The light changed to green as Zora had predicted; she pressed down on the accelerator pedal and the bus rolled through the traffic light.

The oncoming traffic kept the two BMWs at bay behind us. The rows of shops gave way to terrace housing and the bus stop came into view.

Liz, as good as her word, had redirected the Dean Street bus. It was parked in the bay, on our side of the road, but crucially it was facing in our direction.

‘Wouldn’t-you-know-it,’ Zora said, chuckling. ‘Dian is driving. Now she’s one real cool sister.’

I sprang back to where Ivonne was sitting. ‘That’s us now,’ I said. ‘But the problems aren’t over. Both BMWs are now behind us. Zora is going to try and make them believe we’re still on this bus. So, make sure everyone keeps their heads down.’

I kept my head lowered as I returned to the front of the bus. Zora braked gently.

I heard a whisper of cloth behind me. I turned and Ivonne gave me a high five.

‘Let’s do it!’ she said.

Zora brought the bus alongside the other one – door to door.

Some instinct or other made me glance up at the central mirror. The man, who’d boarded earlier, raised his phone. Just great. As if we didn’t have enough problems.

The hydraulics hissed and the door opened. One by one we crossed the gap into the Dean Street bus.

‘Hi,’ I said, ducking down behind the driver, ‘you must be Dian?’

‘Sure am. Welcome on board. Liz told me you need some help.’ She had a deep husky voice.

Dian engaged reverse and the bus started to roll backwards. Clear of the other bus, Dian selected drive and turned the wheel. The cabs of the two buses almost touched as Dian joined the southbound lane – the direction we had just come from.

I kept my head down as did the others. The bus straightened up and began to accelerate.

‘Dian,’ I said, ‘we’ve got an extra problem; there are now
two
black BMWs full of nasties on our tail.’

I could see her looking at the two BMWs as we rolled past.

‘They look like a real bundle of fun.’

‘I thought we might lose them swopping buses, but that was when there was only one. And we’re still nowhere near Crew Street station – the idea is to disappear there in the crowds.’

‘Liz gave me the lowdown.’

The bus accelerated. Dian kept her attention on the road and the mirrors. Approaching the lights we’d just crossed, she indicated and turned left.

‘There are three stops between here and Queensway,’ she said. ‘Are those shitheads going to try something?’  

     ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘they’ve already tried getting in front of Zora. Only a matter of time before they catch up and storm the bus.’

‘That bad, huh?’

‘They don’t come worse.’

‘Phone Liz, tell her about it.’

I really couldn’t imagine how Liz was going to help us out of this predicament, but I had nothing to lose.

I dialled Liz’s number – engaged.

Damn. I came out from behind Dian and held on to the overhead grab rail. Dian was really motoring along; the bus pitching over the uneven surfaces. So far neither BMW had shown up.

I pressed redial. This time the phone rang. I rapidly explained to Liz that two cars full of nasties were now in pursuit.

She told me she had an idea, to sit tight and ride out the next stop. Then to my surprise she asked me if I was on Twitter. I was, although
I didn’t use it much. I gave her my user name.

Puzzled by the request, I continued to hang on to the grab rail and watched the wing mirrors, waiting for Liz to send me a tweet.

However, my attention was then absorbed by a fast approaching speck in the mirrors. Within seconds the speck resolved itself into a black BMW as it roared along the road doing at least seventy-miles-per-hour in a thirty zone, its speed intermittently dropping when a car got in its way. The driver used every opportunity to overtake, blatantly traversing solid white lines, and even using the oncoming lane at a zebra crossing to hurtle around the pedestrians.

‘He, he,’ Dian chuckled. ‘He’s in for a surprise.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re about to rejoin my route and, it’s full of one-way streets.’

The BMW was now only four cars behind us and was aggressively looking for the next opportunity to overtake.

‘Here we go,’ Dian said.

I looked out through the front window; we were fast approaching a big junction with the lights green.

    Dian pulled the wheel hard round. The bus veered to the left, rolling heavily. Dian kept the wheel locked hard over, the engine bellowed and the pitch increased. I gripped the overhead rail tighter. The bus exited the curve. Dian wound the wheel to the right, and accelerated along the dedicated
bus lane as we whizzed past the cars and the vans to our right.

‘First stop coming up,’ Dian said.

I checked the mirrors. The BMW had overshot the junction, but was now reversing. As I watched, it turned left and, ignoring all the signs, shot along the bus lane towards us.

‘They might just try boarding.’

‘Don’t you fret,’ Dian said, grinning. ‘The moment they come near the door, I’ll hit the button.’

At least the BMW would not have a chance to ge
t in front of us; the non-bus lanes were choked with traffic.

The bus halted, rocking on its springs. Dian opened the door. Two passengers disembarked.

In the mirror I saw Erjon open the car door and start towards the bus. As a lone pedestrian reached the first step of the bus wanting to board, Dian pressed down on the button, closing the door.

Erjon sprinted to the door and slammed his hand on to the door release mechanism. Dian didn’t even bother turning her head and instead flicked on the indicator and engaged drive.

I ducked out of sight.

Ivonne had taken a seat in the aisle,
sheltered from view by Maria in her hoody.

‘Keep your heads down,’ I ordered. ‘Don’t look round.’

Maria, Yana and Olga sat frozen in their seats, their heads facing the aisle. I could see the angst in their eyes and Yana’s lower lip trembled.

My phone beeped, telling me I had received a message. I ignored it for now.

As the bus rolled forward Erjon jumped up and down, trying to get a look at the passengers. I don’t know whether he recognised any of us, but with the three girls bunched together, all wearing hoodies, it might have been enough for him to reach a decision.

I came
out from behind Dian and looked in the wing mirror. Erjon was sprinting back to the BMW; he yanked the door open, jumped in and slammed the door shut. The car jumped forward, only to disappear from view directly behind the bus.

‘The next stop?’ I asked.

‘There, beyond the junction.’

‘Not good.’

‘Just a mo,’ Dian said, and pressed lightly on the brake pedal. The bus slowed. As it came to the junction with the light on green, Dian brought the bus to a stop. She leaned forward and peered left around the corner.

I could see, in the middle distance, a bus making its way along the bus lane towards the junction.  

‘Just as I thought,’ Dian said.

She held the bus on the stop line and waited. Just as the light changed to red, Dian rolled the bus forwards across the stop line, blocking the two lanes of traffic to our left which now had a green light.

There was an immediate concert of horns. Dian trod on the accelerator pedal, the bus jumped forward. We shot across the junction. I saw one car slip into the gap behind us, blocking the BMW from crossing. The bus to our left was also quick off the mark; it turned left and took up position right behind us.