Free The Busconductor Hines by James Kelman

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    Hines swivelled round; his boots clattered onto the floor.
    Come here.
    Me you mean?
    The Inspector continued to stare at him.
    Hines rose, he walked up the aisle with his hands in his trouser pockets, and he stood closeby the Inspector.
    Your waybill conductor, I want to see it.
    It’s in the waybill holder. Hines gestured towards the luggage-compartment. Then he got the waybill when the Inspector nodded at it.
    Okay son, read me the numbers from your machine. Better still, let me see them for myself.
    Reilly coughed as Hines raised the machine so that theInspector could check the numbers there were corresponding to the last waybill entry. I’m not cheating the ratepayer if that’s what you think.
    I’m no saying you’re doing anything. The Inspector sniffed and nodded before returning him the waybill. I dont see your hat.
    Eh.
    Where is it?
    In fact I’ve not got it with me this evening; my child’s fault: he spilled a tureen of chicken vindaloo all over it. The wife had to leave it to soak. Still no dry when I was coming to report this afternoon. Smell of curry everywhere too; the neighbours were in complaining.
    Name and number? The Inspector turned a page in his notebook.
    Hines Robert 4729. Am I being booked?
    Incomplete uniform. What was your name again?
    Hines Robert.
    His mates call him Bobby, said Reilly.
    Well, some of them call me Rabbie right enough; I blame the auld man, he was a great believer in Burns.
    I like comics, said the Inspector.
    Glad to hear it.
    Look; I’ve a bloody job to do same as yous pair. If yous were doing it the way yous’re supposed to I wouldnt be having to use my book.
    Very sorry, muttered Reilly.
    The Inspector glanced at him. Dont mention it . . . As he turned to exit he squinted in at the destination screen, and said to Hines: Mind and change it before leaving here now, else I’ll be having to book you again.
    When the doors were shut behind him Reilly laughed briefly. Fuck them all, that’s what I say.
    Hines didnt reply. He walked to the rear of the bus, shaking his head and occasionally snorting. He sat down. He sniffed. Naw, christ naw, no now, definitely, definitely not, bastards, the decision’s made and that’s it final; hh; fuck it; the bastards, them and their fucking promotion, all I wanted to be was a fucking the Busdriver Hines.
    So you admit it! Reilly was laughing, having come halfway down the aisle.
    Hines covered his face with both hands. Too bad to be true, too fucking bad, no kidding ye man bad, too fucking bad, really fucking bad man I’m no kidding ye.
    And the door was being chapped. The Inspector. Reilly saying, It’s that cunt back again.
    Hines dropped his hands. They lay so that the wrists balanced on the edge of the seat, his head moving to rest against the rearmost panel of the bus.
    Heh conductor. I want to see that destination screen changed right now.
    I’ll do it, said Reilly.
    You’re no the conductor. Heh. You. I want to see it getting changed, right now. So’s I know you arent forgetting.
    The doors had shut.
    The bus was really swaying. Reilly could drive too fast; other times not fast enough. He was slowing it down now, for a queue of persons, having formed to file upstairs or down. Hines had got off the seat and was marching to the front as the bus moved away from the kerb. Stop again man I’m jacking it. Pull into the side. High fucking time I mean it’s getting to the ridiculous stage. Come on for christ sake Willie stop the bus when I’m telling you.
    Reilly’s frown.
    Christ sake man hurry up, I want to jack the bastarn thing, right now.
    Fine ya cunt.
    It’s no fine at all; come on, pull into the fucking side. Reilly glancing at him.
    I want to jack it I’m telling you come on.
    Right then you can jack it, I dont have to stop the bus but.
    Aye you do, I need to jack it; I want to have jacked it.
    Well you’ve jacked it.
    How can I