I didn’t know he was dead when I agreed to do it.
Timothy wasn’t answering Sally’s calls and she needed a stand in. It was an easy job. I joined the bus queue and when the bus arrived I shouted that the bus was going to crash and no one should get on.
Sally was studying psychology. She’d been to university but didn’t stay long. She wanted to study human behaviour but the few lectures she attended focussed on dead people who had studied the behaviour of other people – who were also probably dead by now.
The bus-crash experiment was her own invention. She was videoing what happened after I made my announcement. She was analysing who took heed of my warning and who ignored it. She was convinced that different categories of people would respond differently. I hadn’t really listened when she explained it. The only thing I remembered was that she thought all parents with young children would ignore the warning because getting the kids out of the house and to the bus stop was hard enough. Parents wouldn’t want to change their plans just because a mad man shouted.
This was the sixth bus stop. I don’t think Sally’s research was going well. So far not a single person had walked away from the bus stop. Every one of them had got on the bus.
She joined me at the now empty bus stop.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Would you get on a bus even after someone told you it was going to crash?’
I’ve found it best to take Sally’s questions seriously – she did.
‘Well. That depends who told me. If it was the bus driver, or the mechanic, well, then I’d certainly think about it. But a random madman shouting at a bus stop?’
‘You don’t look mad. That’s why I asked you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Let’s try a different part of town. Or maybe we should try the railway station.’
I refused her. It’s hard to do – especially when she smiles and pleads with her eyes. But I resisted. The station has cameras and security.
We took the W3 bus and disembarked at Kings Square. One of the poshest parts of town. I was surprised they allowed buses. We waited at the bus stop for over an hour. Four buses passed but not a single person tried to get on.
We moved into the town centre for the evening rush hour. I was more self-conscious with the bigger crowds and also aware of the CCTV hanging around every street corner.
The results were the same. I was completely ignored. That’s not quite true. One young man followed me as I walked away from the bus stop. Initially I thought that Sally was about to get her first result but he hadn’t even planned on taking the bus. He followed me to ask if I was alright and offered to buy me a coffee. He was a nice man.
Sally called me the next day. Timothy, her regular orator of doom, was still awol and she wanted to know if I could stand in again. I was between jobs so the twenty pound she offered looked attractive. I guess there were other attractions. She could have got my time for nothing.
The day was a repeat. Not a single person took heed of my dire warnings. I think even Sally was beginning to realise that her research needed rethinking. We’d tried different bus routes and ended up about four miles out of town on a country lane. It was getting dark and we’d been at the bus stop for at least forty-five minutes without seeing a single person or a single bus. I’d gently told Sally that you could check timetables online and made a polite suggestion that perhaps she should plan her route more carefully.
She stomped off across the road to the bus stop on the other side. I dug out my phone and checked the timetable. The route we were on was circular. Buses in both directions eventually ended up back in town. The route from my stop was shorter but the next bus was due to arrive in just a few minutes across the road where Sally stood.
I crossed over to join her and we formed a silent queue of two.
The bus arrived. The doors sh-shushed open. Sally stepped onto the bus and showed the driver her ticket.
I placed one foot on the bus and was about to enter.
‘Don’t get on that bus. It’s going to crash.’
Sally turned and gave me a withering look.
It wasn’t me that shouted. I looked around and saw a ghostly figure that looked like Timothy.
‘You getting on?’
I turned back to face the driver but didn’t step up.
‘No. I’m alright thanks.’
The doors hissed closed. The bus windows flicked slowly passed. All empty except for the one framing Sally’s questioning face.
Poor Sally.
Finaly someone listened to the shouted warning. It’s a pity she didn’t do the same.