Open Writing

It was a hot sticky afternoon the last time I saw her. With the heat of the afternoon sun beating down. I recognized her at once, approaching with a stiff upright gait, looking directly at me. My heart stopped and then raced on as once again I relived the scenes from my childhood.

I couldn’t face her then, and I couldn’t face her now. What on earth could I do? I was absolutely convinced she knew me all right. She’d waited years to catch me. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her in town but generally I had had more warning.

This time I was loaded down with my shopping, and my tired three-year-old daughter clutched my dress. People stood around us waiting for the next bus. With nowhere to go, I turned to face the photographer’s window display, pointing out the pretty brides to my daughter, while watching in horror, out of the corner of my eye, as she approached, step by step. Frozen in time my mind relived the whole sordid affair.

It was a warm summer's evening and we were down at the Muni. The smell of chlorine hung heavy in the air as Club Members practiced their laps for the next mid-week carnival.I’d already done mine but I had to wait for my sister and brothers. With a good two hours in hand my friend Julie and I decided to bike into town We had no business being there. If Dad found out I’d be grounded for sure.

At the Milk-Bar we joined up with Marie whom we knew from School. Her older brother and his two friends joined us also, making a group of six. After a forbidden cigarette all round, someone suggested we go down to the Railway Station to have some fun. We all agreed.

The boys had a beat-up old Austin but neither Julie nor I wanted to leave our bikes, so we did the next best thing. With one girl on each side of the car, I swear our push-bikes had never gone so fast as they free peddled across town, our legs safely tucked up on the bar, one hand gripping tightly to the window frame while the other firmly steered our bicycle. The wind whipped tears from our eyes as we sped across town.

At the overhead bridge we stashed our bikes and the adventure began. We had planned to get chased by this old lady. I was told she was a fearsome type who chased kids because she hated them. The truth, as I later found out, was in fact very different Her fiancée had been reported ‘Missing in Action’ and although the War had been over four years she still went down each night to meet the Express so she would be there waiting as promised when he came home. While waiting she would partake of a cup of coffee and a bun, hence her nick- name. Coffee and Bun.

With the cruelty of youth local kids taunted her. At thirteen, intoxicated with excitement, my good sense forgotten, I crept over the bridge, and down into the station with the others.We flitted from shadow to shadow, hearts thumping in our chests. The Express was due any minute and the station was filling up with an assortment of people and bags.

At last we reached the waiting room. Peering around the corner into the dimly lit room we saw her, her hair pulled tightly back from her prematurely lined face, gold rimmed spectacles stuck firmly on her nose. Her lips in the shadowy waiting room looked mean and narrow. A navy cardigan covered her long dark dress.

Without a moment's thought’ one of the boys called out "Yoo-hoo Coffee and Bun!"

I felt the hair stand on the back of my neck as horror-struck I watched her start towards us. I was completely unaware that the others had fled. She was almost upon me when the Express rushed hissing and clattering into the station, breaking the spell.

I departed with speed, bouncing off people, leaping over luggage, my heart bursting with fright The shadows at the end of the station by the overhead bridge finally gathered me close into their protection. I was safe. I biked back alone to the swimming baths.

My mind shifted back to the present. My daughter’s hand still clutching mine, I fought with the fear that was still with me as she came nearer and nearer. The horror over-rode the voice in my head that was telling me not to be so stupid.

Then she was behind me. Another second and she would be past.

In that instant my shoulder was gripped in her long strong bony fingers. I jerked, nearly throwing my daughter and myself through a plate glass window. My guilty past had finally caught up with me. Resigning myself to the inevitable I turned to face her.

And then she spoke.

"Excuse me dear, do you know what time the next bus comes in?"

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