It was the last bus. Kerry hated having to get it but it was the only one when she did that particular shift cleaning at Mason’s Factory. She usually managed to get a lift but it wasn’t a given. The illuminated box on wheels arrived resplendent in its majesty. Empty. Phew! She couldn’t have asked for better. Relieved, Kerry got on and showed her pass, taking a seat within sight of the driver. She must have looked a sight as she still had on her Kleen with us uniform on. She relaxed a little and got her ear buds out, ready to calm herself further from the long hours she had just put in.
The driver, as was his wont, pitched up for a further two minutes. He certainly didn’t want complaints about leaving passengers stranded. He prided himself on his professionalism; he had twice won Bus Employer of the Month at Worksham’s depot in the past year.
One minute later, a swarm of people descended on the open doors, talking loudly across each other and laughing. Kerry cringed in her seat. This was why she hated travelling so late. It was either drunks or partygoers.
“Is this seat taken?” asked a witch.
“N- no,” said Kerry, slinking further down. This was something she had never anticipated. Another two witches passed further up the bus, cackling to each other. They were swiftly followed by noblemen in some fine costumes and their lady companions.
One of the witches leaned forward to the one sitting next to Kerry.
“She’d make a darling Cinderella,” she said. “Ask her, why don’t you?” The witch sitting next to Kerry said, “Ever done any am dram, love?”