Bus Stop Blues

The rain hammered down on the roof of the bus shelter. Rebecca leaned against the perspex and caught her breath. She was drenched, her make-up was running, her clothes were sticking to her and her hair felt like it was melting.

A great start to the evening, she mused, adjusting her denim skirt fiercely.

Sitting at the other end of the shelter was the Lurker. A grimy man in an overcoat who loved sitting in the bus shelter. He was about fifty but he was playing a DS - who did he think he was?

She kept to her end and sat down precariously on the bench. With practised care and attention she began to repair her image. The emergency kit in her bag contained all she needed; tissues, pocket mirror and make-up for re-application.

Outside, shapes continued to walk past in the rain. A couple looked vaguely familiar. She held the mirror up higher so she couldn't see them and continued. The Lurker's DS was making bleeping noises. She ignored it.

"Objection!" The Lurker shouted into the machine.

Rebecca's hand skipped a beat and she drew a line down her nose in eye-liner. Furious, she made her feelings known by huffing and re-crossing her legs. Furiously she wiped away the line with a tissue.

"Sorry," the Lurker muttered, chuckling.

Rebecca ignored him.

"Do you have one of these? It's very good. I've got BrainTraining and Mario and all sorts. It's not mine though, it's my nephews."

Of course it is, you fucking paedophile.

"It does make you sound a bit like a pratt though." The Lurker mused.

"No harm done though, eh?" Rebecca replied, the tone of her voice implying quite the opposite.

"I see you about a lot."

Rebecca's hand froze.

"I used to work with your mother. I know most people around here." The man chattered, "Nobody talks much any more though. Hard to strike up a conversation."

"Doesn't seem to stop you though?" Rebecca replied.

The Lurker laughed, "No, I suppose not. It's good to talk though - as they say. Was it Bob Hoskins who used to say that?"

"Who's Bob Hoskins?"

"BT advert - you know... in the nineties..."

"I think I'm a bit young for that."

"Oh. Never mind then. Still. It's a good motto. People should talk more."

I really wish you'd stop, she thought. Curiosity got the better of her, "Do you really know everybody?" As a keen socialite Rebecca had over a hundred and fifty MySpace friends, a maxed out phone book on her mobile and a social cicrle that included three schools.

"Oh yeah - well, not intimately of course. But I've spoken to most people at least once."

"That's a bit pervy, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Just talking to people."

"Is it? Since when?"

"Dunno."

The Lurker turned off the DS. "So, do you think me talking to you now is pervy?"

"Well, yeah. A bit. You're like fifty or something and I'm eighteen and-"

"You're sixteen. I was talking to your mother last week."

"Oh my God. See? That's pervy. You can't know stuff about me that I don't know that you know."

"So, if you knew that I knew what I know, then that wouldn't be pervy?"

"Yeah."

"Right."

"How do you find things out about people if you don't ask?" The Lurker asked.

"You just don't. Why do you want to know so much anyway - why do you care how old I am?"

"I don't, I just know." The Lurker replied, "Well, think about it - if I wanted to know all about you, I could go online and look at your myspace profile, or something like that. You wouldn't know that I know then, would you?"

"Well, no - but that's pervy too."

"But what about absolute randoms - people from your school - are they allowed to know?"

"Well, yeah - no. Wait."

"So all this information you seem to think is so precious, it's all sacred and only certain people are allowed to know, but if you want, you can see it all anyway."

"No. Wait. You're still older than me, you don't know me, really. Why do you want to know all this stuff?"

"Because it's interesting. It means something to know the people who live around you."

Rebecca looked at him, make-up half repaired.

"That's so weird."

"As weird as going into town, pretending to be older than you are on a night when your mother thinks you're around a friend's house?"

"That's it. I'm calling a taxi." Rebecca got up - part furious, part terrified that he was going to chase after her mother and denounce her to the whole village. "You're fucking a pervert and a freak and I need some space."

The Lurker laughed. Rebecca spun around and pointed her eyeliner at him.

"I could call the police and tell them you're harassing me - touching me and shit. How would you like that?"

"Well, I'll be honest with you Rebecca. I wouldn't."

"Well, yeah, okay then. Keep your mouth shut and your nose out of other people's business."

She stormed out of the bus stop and was immediately soaked again. Instantly miserable and wound up, she sat obstinately on the wall in the rain and grabbed her phone. She was jamming the number 8 for Taxi when she heard the Lurker shout:

"Objection!"