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Edited 6th Feb 2003
The glowing windows of the waiting room were misted by the breath of the people crammed into its warmth. Every so often, a departure flashed up on the screen, and travelers trooped out to board their bus. New people crashed the doors open, breezing chill air over the toasting mass, puffing and rubbing their hands, welcoming the warmth within.
There were all kinds of people: students, returning home for Christmas; elderly folks looking forward to being with their families, lone men and women – relatives joining the family party.
And children – some young, some older, some quiet, some noisy, complaining.
Mary sat down opposite a harassed-looking man in a business suit and long coat. Patting her handbag as she settled, she glanced at the man. Thin ginger hair plastered his scalp and the faint moustache on his upper lip twitched as he drew nervously on his cigarette.
Beside him sat a boy. Remarkable! The boy wore a black quilted jacket, and was swinging his legs, banging his trainers on the frame of the seat. What Mary found remarkable was the sparkle in the boy’s eyes. He must be about nine or ten, she thought. He would be unremarkable but for the life in those eyes - darting, mischievous.
The man glanced at the boy. The boy looked down, legs still now. The man looked across at Mary with an apologetic smile.
“How old is he?” Mary asked, surprising herself.
“Ten, next March.” The man replied. “He’s my sister’s boy.” He volunteered. The boy stared at him. “She died.”
“I’m so sorry!” Mary was shocked.
“It’s been hard for him to settle.” The man glanced at the boy. The boy looked away, unreadable.
Mary felt she was getting too deep in this conversation; maybe she should have been more cautious.
“The wife and I,” the man went on, “we don’t have kids ourselves, so it has been a bit of an adjustment for us. But we intend to bring him up right –it’s our duty after all.”
“He seems like a good boy to me.” Why had she said that? Mary dreaded the man’s response. The boy, seeming to her to sense her discomfort, smiled.
But it was fine. “Oh yes.” The man nodded. “He’s not a bad boy.” He was puffing frantically on the last of his cigarette. He looked down at the stub, throwing it down and grinding it under his shoe. Both Mary and the boy stared down. Patting his pockets, the man rose.
“I’m sorry to ask this, but would you mind keeping an eye on him while I get some more cigarettes. I can’t take him over there - it’s a bar”. Mary nodded agreement, looking again at the boy, who smiled directly at her.
“Come and sit next to me!” She invited as the man wandered off. The boy bounced off his seat, eyes sparkling, and leapt into the seat next to her. “Oh, you’ve got a lot of energy!” She exclaimed as the steel frame shuddered. The boy’s face became closed, eyes downcast.
“Sorry, lady, I’m sorry!” He blurted.
“No, it’s OK!” Mary was repentant. “I don’t mind.” The boy perked up at once. “Tell me what happened!” She asked. “About your parents,” she added as the boy looked puzzled.
“Oh! They died,” he said simply.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!”
The boy looked puzzled. “How?” he asked.
She got him to tell her the story. He told her how his father had been killed in an accident and then his mother had got sick. Now ‘Uncle David’ was looking after him. “Is he nice to you?” Mary asked. “Do you like it, living with them?”
She thought the boy’s eyes seemed to cloud. “They’re very nice, I’m grateful to them.”
The man was gone some time. Mary guessed there was more that had drawn him to the bar than cigarettes. She was getting on well with the boy, he told her jokes - jokes that made her laugh. He became more and more animated, dark eyes twinkling as he teased and entertained her. They laughed together, as did a few people round them, who smiled and warmed to the boy’s innocent humor.
“Wanna see me dance!” The boy exclaimed. “Yes, yes” Mary, laughing, encouraged, as did a few of the people nearby.
The boy jumped up, bouncing with energy. He began to dance wildly, grinning all over his face. He was transformed by a joyful, beaming grin and the sparkle in his eyes, she thought. Arms flailing in his big jacket, feet pounding, soles squeaking on the floor, twirling and bouncing, the boy danced. People had gathered in a circle, clapping in encouragement. As he danced, he laughed, and so did his audience. They chuckled, they looked at each other. “Merry Christmas”, some muttered, torn between natural reserve and a feeling of happiness.
“What’s all this?” A voice broke the mood. The man was back.
The boy stopped at once, head hung down. “Sorry!” he muttered.
“I should think so. These nice people don’t want you making an exhibition of yourself and disturbing them. Sorry!” He smiled ingratiatingly around at the crowd.
Mary began to protest, then stifled her words. People melted away, back to their plastic seats in the warm room.
She continued to watch, afraid to say too much, as the boy slumped back in his chair.
“Where are you off to?” Mary felt a traitor, talking to this man. The boy sat, eyes downcast, silent now.
“Oh!” He smiled ingratiatingly, “we’re going to visit his grandparents for Christmas. Catherine wouldn’t come this year; she wanted to see her mother.” He glanced at the boy “I’m doing all this for him.”
Very soon, the man and the boy got up to board their bus. As the man led him away, the boy turned back, stared at Mary and winked, eyes sparkling.
*****
Another year gone! Mary thought, as she sat in the muggy room, windows misted by condensation. It was time again for a visit to her sister. We did have a nice time last year, she thought, remembering the joy and companionship. Idly, she remembered the boy. Unbidden, a smile rose to her lips. What a character he had been, a small joy. I wonder how they’re getting on now? She thought, recalling the boy’s twinkling farewell look.
The doors crashed. The nervous, ginger-haired man came in, accompanied by the boy, taller now.
“Hello!” She ventured. The man looked at her. Recognition dawned. “Oh, hello! Funny this, isn’t it, meeting again?”
The boy sat, saying nothing. She tried to see his face, but his head was down. Noting the direction of her gaze, the man exclaimed. “Oh, take no notice! He sulks sometimes. Growing up I expect.”
“Oh.” She noticed the boy hadn’t lifted his head, and decided not to pursue the conversation.
After a while, the man leaned towards her. “Er, excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom, do you think you could…..”
“Oh, gladly!” Mary nodded her head.
She looked at the boy. “Hello again!” She said brightly. His head rose.
Where was that grin? She thought. “Hey, dance for me!” She encouraged.
She so wanted to see that sparkle again.
“I don’t dance.” The boy said.
© John F Griffiths 2003
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