There were some people already sitting on the bus waiting to go. They were squinting their eyes out at the lit up shop windows. It was after eight o clock and the bus was due to depart at 8.15. Every day the meeting point for the bus was at the water-fountains in the town square. Alison did not mind having to wait. She had spent much of her day walking outdoors and it was a warm respite for her to be seated inside the bus. It was unusually cold for the time of year. That morning the frost had contrasted well with the orange and yellow colors of autumn. It had done her well to walk to the bus stop on her own, taking the quieter route across country. Another passenger had taken take his seat and switched on the reading light. He opened his book and began to read without disturbing anyone. Alison didn't have the patience to sit down and read. She was envious of people who had the discipline to sit for long periods of time reading a book. 

     'What are you reading?’ she asked. 

     Nick looked up slightly surprised by the question and hesitated for a moment before answering. 

     'It’s a collection of short stories'.  

     'Look! I have a cat. Do you want to see a picture?’

     Alison couldn't help disturbing him and moved herself into the seat next to him. She was a bit jealous of people who found comfort in books. Nick held the picture and said it looked nice, knowing that this was the only response he could give to a polite stranger showing him a picture of her cat. 

     'My grandmother hated cats, but she always fed them', he said. 

     'Really?’ she said.  

     'I think she liked them, most days she complained about them hanging around in the yard looking to be fed, but she was the one who kept buying the cat food'.  

     'I guess people like to be needed', said Alison.       

      Nick agreed with her. The bus driver had taken his seat and told a few passengers who were outside smoking that it was time to go. It was late in the evening and a few cars were parked outside the pubs. Traffic was quiet on the Main Street. On the horizon, flood lights shone into the sky where a football team was training. The bus driver closed his side window and Nick reached overhead to switch off the air conditioner.  

    'Lovely smell of shit, there', he said; eyeing the slurry tanker making its way through the Main Street.      

     'Whatever you're into ' said Alison, 'ya know Hitler liked the smell shit, as well‘

     ´What?'  

     'Yeah, Hitler used to pick up hookers in Berlin, feed them full of brown bread and get them to shit on his chest through a coffee table'.  

     Nick looked at her and said nothing.  

     'But don't worry, I don't think Hitler will be coming around here anytime soon', she said confidently.  

     Nick was silent. He began to wonder how she came to know such things. 'Probably speaks a lot in her sleep!'       

     Alison was prone to boredom, and moved from one situation to the next. In the morning, it sometimes took her several minutes to remember the room in which she had slept. There were many rooms and many people; most of them good hearted and in need of some affection. In her own way, she felt that she was helping them.  

     'Do you live around here?' she asked. 

     'Yeah', said Nick. 

     'I don't think I could live around here, too quiet’

     'Ah, you find ways, it’s not that bad’

     'There’s only so much of it I could bear',

     'You have to distract yourself', said Nick.      

     He handed her a plastic bag with a few wooden toys in it. He usually spent his downtime in the shed building furniture and making ornaments. He made ornamental gifts for his relatives and neighbors, but all the people he knew had been sorted by this stage. The shed was now packed with disused wooden toys and ornaments.  

     'You’re a bit old to be playing with toys', she said. 

     Nick smiled, 'I made them’

     'They are very nice', she said. 

     'Ah it’s just something to keep myself occupied’

     'It’s really good’

     ‘Thanks’

     She wasn't the first person to commend his work. His Aunt had suggested that he make a business of his craft. "It is a good way to keep yourself busy", she would say. Nick actually gave it a go but he lost interest in it all when it came to dealing with paperwork and declaring income.

     'And what are ya working at yourself?’   

     'I don't work for money', said Alison. 

     'Ah you're like the rest of us. The government gives us all the love we need'

     'No, I do work, but just not for money', she said.  

     'Right?'  

     'I don't like getting money for work’

     Nick laughed. 'Well, with that attitude I'm sure you'll have no problem getting yourself a job’

     'Don't laugh', she said. 

     'I’m sorry', said Nick, still laughing, 'I could offer you a bit of work in my yard?'  

     She nodded in agreement with him without saying a word. The bus was on the road now and the presence of the surrounding hills had come into prominence. Alison was looking out the window at the sheep grazing on the hillside. The land in these parts was generally used for sheep farming and some cattle holdings. Nick was resting his eyes, seemingly unaware that his humor may have offended her and that he should try in some way to make amends. He opened his eyes, and without saying a word, he continued reading his book. Nick sometimes worked as a fisherman. He spent many hours out at sea hauling up nets and crab pots. On deck, nobody ever spoke or interfered with each other's work, just a shout now and again to 'pull' or 'let go'. Some of the men had problems with alcohol. They would work at sea for four days straight followed by three days off. They were often bored and didn't know what to do with their free time. The off days were difficult. At sea, there was no downtime. Just work. In the breaks in between the hauling, He sometimes noticed how some the men would stand quietly for a moment and just look out at the horizon. As time went by, he became more and more a part of this crew, with barely a word to say.       

     The bus had stopped in the next village to let off some passengers. Across the street, there was a man walking crookedly on the footpath. He was wearing an old suit jacket and a collared T-Shirt. He was pointing a finger towards the roadside and seemed to be talking to himself. Some teenagers were standing by the bus shelter, pressing the keypads of their mobile phones. They did not get onto the bus. 

     'I didn't always live around here', Nick spoke up again,' I grew up in a big town´ 'Yeah?'  

     'Yeah!´, He said, ' And every year at Halloween me and my friends would go to the factories and steal pallets and tires for the bonfire'.

     There was no reason for Nick to mention this and he immediately felt stupid.

     'I only did it because the other lads where doing it'. He added.  

     Alison was quiet and Nick had nothing more to say. 

     'The factories?’ she said. 

     'What?'  

     'You were speaking about the factories’

     'Oh yeah', Nick thought of it some more. 'We used to smoke behind the factories and in the loading bays, 'there was always small bits of styrofoam blowing around, like snow balls'  'Sounds nice', said Alison.  

     'Dunno, I’m just remembering what it was like when I didn't live here'.  

     'Wait, I have another photograph',

     Alison dug out a photograph from her bag and handed it to him. It was a picture of some children in a schoolyard. They made cross-eyed faces, vampire teeth and stuck out their tongues.  

     'Where did you get this?' he asked.   

     'I took it one day in Dublin, I was just walking around. There's lots of schools up there, all crowded with children'.  

     'They are funny', he said.  

     'They are', she said. 'I think people are beautiful when they don't have that much money, they have to depend on each other more'. 

     In Dublin, the families are all squeezed together. The children don't have gardens to play in. Alison had grown up in an upmarket suburban house with a nice landscaped garden. Her parents had fewer mouths to feed and more time on their hands to take care of the garden.  

     'People become mean when they have too much money', she said. 

     Alison looked out the window. Nick sensed that she didn't want to talk about these things anymore and he didn't go there.  

     'Ya know, every time you bend your elbow your mouth opens', said Nick.  

     'What?'  

     He started to laugh, 'Never mind, would you like a sweet?'  

     He took a bag of sweets from his coat pocket and offered her one. She reached into the bag and took one. She grinned at him and said, "bend your elbow". An old man sitting at the front of the bus sneezed loudly and it caused the lady sitting next to him to jump with fright. They both laughed at this.  

     'They're good for ya', said Nick. 

     'Yeah'?  

     'Ay, they keep your chest clear; the fishermen use them out on the boats, too much humidity in the air'.  

     'Ok', she nodded.  

     'Chest and hands', said Nick holding up his hands, 'it is important to look after them'.  

     'It’s true', said Alison with a sense of authority. Nick smiled, thinking she probably had no idea of what it meant to do a real hard day’s work.  

     'So you're a fisherman as well? She asked. 

     'Ah sometimes, if the money's good'.   
´

     'I'd like to go out on the boats, it'd be like an adventure', said Alison.  

     'I suppose it is that. Good pay, but it is back breaking’

     'But you like to do it too?'  

     'It’s ok, pays the rent on my own place'.       

     A man climbed onto the bus and moved to the seat beside Nick and Alison. He was short of breath and wearing a heavy set fleece jacket that made him sweat. Before he sat down he spoke to Nick in an accent that was quick and difficult to understand.  

     'Are ya carrying any drugs? If ya are, tell me now. I won't sit here if you're carrying any drugs. Just to let you know now what'll happen if ya are'.  

     'No, I don’t have any drugs', said Nick. 

     'Fair enough. The guards are watching me. I have a bad back and I can't work. Here, do you want a smoke? Here take a few of them to keep ya goin'.

     He sat down across from them and immediately his phone started ringing.  

     'Hello ... howaya Tubby... don´t worry about them fuckers, what about yourself? ' At this he stood up and walked off the bus as fast as he got on it.  

     'Do you know that man'? Asked Alison.

     'No, I never met him before'

     'He's mad', she said.     

     The noise of a con-saw grabbed their attention. There was a laborer at work outside of a lit up shop front. The bus started moving again. They watched the smoke rising out of a factory chimney, long and tall and alone in the sky. Nick liked the chimney because it was unchanging, like the lights of a harbor. He sometimes wished that his days and nights could be rolled together into one big unchanging tape, leading back to a harbor. He thought about what his Aunty used to tell him: "Don't waste your time with churches and rosaries; it only takes a few minutes to say a prayer". He never figured out why she had said it was better to pray less. Many people spent hours in the church kneeling on the altar but they still had their troubles. He thought about the gravedigger whose brother was in the IRA. Nick wondered if they sometimes sent a bit of work each other's way, "You supply the soldier and I´ll dig the grave", but he knew there would be no place for a British soldier in a Catholic graveyard. 

     Nick drifted off to sleep. Alison could smell his sweat and noticed that his clothes were creased, not long out of the tumble dryer. She was looking forward to having a hot shower and a good sleep. For a few days’ warmth and rest, she could wire up the electrics of a house or new extension. It was not hard to find these jobs. There was always somebody she knew who could use an extra hand in exchange for food and warmth. Her mobile phone rang but she didn't answer it when she seen who was calling. She put the phone into her bag and took out an odd sock and blew her nose. It had started with little things, a sleepover here and there when the moment presented itself. By now, however, something had changed and she could feel it.  

     'Do you need a lend of some money?'   

     'No!'  

     'But you come here and you have nothing, I wish you would just ask me'

     'I don't want your money. I just like it here, but I will go if you don't want me to stay'

     'I never said that'

     'Well ... can we watch a movie or something?'  

     'Ok, you pick one'      

     He lit a fire and closed the door to stop the draught. They both got under the blankets and linked arms. In the morning, Alison tearfully left the bedroom wondering why she keeps losing her friends. She liked the warmth and affection, but he wanted it to be something more. He wanted her to need him. It was too hard to hang around and be trapped by the difficult conversation they would soon have to have. She thought about her plan to visit Eamon and Dianne. Their house was kept warm with turf in the range. She would help them get the two children out to school. Crisps, Yoghurts and Lemonade. The three of them waiting in the yard, keeping their hands warm inside their coat sleeves, whilst Dianne pulled the car around to pick them up. At 2 o' clock, Dianne and Alison would collect them at the rain shelter. The shelter was too small for all the children in the school, but they never had to use it. The parents were usually there to collect their children on time. Sometimes the parents were late and the children would have to wait like orphans for a few minutes with the traffic warden. It was an uncomplicated and wholesome daily ritual. Alison was happy to be a part of it from time to time. 

     She enjoyed talking with Eamon in his van as they drove around the roads searching for lost sheep. Eamon's sheep escaped often and were usually found on the roadsides where the grass grows longer. In the middle of nowhere it was necessary to lose sheep sometimes. It helps to pass the time, driving around the roads searching for sheep. Eamon could speak to Alison about things he wouldn't speak to his wife about. He was a faithful husband and loved his wife, but with Alison they ventured into unknown territory.  

     'Guess who got engaged?', asked Alison. 

     'Who?’   

     'Donal, do you remember him?'  

     'Fuck off, didn't even know he had a girlfriend’

     'He doesn't', said Alison. 

     'What?  

     'He doesn't have a girlfriend’

     'Sure how the fuck is he engaged if he doesn't have a girlfriend?'  

     'He has a boyfriend'

     Eamon took his eyes off the road and turned towards Alison with a confused look on his face.  

     'That’s mental'

     'I know’

     ‘Fuckin Donal!’ exclaimed Eamon. 

     'Yeah, but its ok, isn't it?' said Alison. 

'Ah yeah, I mean… each to their own, Alison, each to their own'.       

     One day Eamon and Alison located a sheep in a tract of commonage. It was lying on the ground, resting unnaturally on its chin and underbelly. Eamon pulled up the van and quickly jumped out. Alison could see that he was alarmed. They crossed an embankment of peat and made their way through the bog towards the animal. It did not attempt to run away. It was unusual for a sheep to remain still when approached by a person. They could see that it had a gaping wound bursting out of its backside. It was constipated and forcing blood from the wound. Eamon lifted the freezing animal and hurriedly put it into the back of the van. It disturbed Alison to know some of the traumas that farm animals go through. For a pig it is the worst. Their sense of betrayal is all the more terrible because they bond with humans better than other animals. Alison had seen her Grandfather swing a sledgehammer down on top of a pig's head. Usually one well aimed blow will knock a pig unconscious, but the first blow was badly aimed and it landed on the pig's ear. They had to hit him six times before they could slit his throat. By that stage the pig knew there was to be no escape. Alison could see the terror in his eyes and hear the panic in his high pitched scream. He was trapped in the pen and surrounded by the people who had been feeding him for two years. She wanted to stop this betrayal because the pig was her friend. At the last blow she could see that his brain was destroyed and his legs faltered. Alison ran into her bedroom and broke down in tears. She heard the dull thwack of the sledgehammer on top of the pig's head and she knew there would be no coming back from that.  

     Nick awoke out of his sleep with a start. Alison looked at him and could see that his mind was in another place. Sometimes when he wakes feeling agitated, Nick unconsciously rubs his hands all over his body under the blankets. It helped him forget that he was alone in his bed. Pleasuring himself was his way of rising above the mediocrity of his romantic life. Alison grabbed his arm and scratched the palm of his hand. 

     'You fell asleep', She said. 

     'I was dreaming', He said 

     'I think you still are', She smiled.

     'I was in my neighbor’s house and there was nobody home. There was no-one to take me to school. I could see my friends walking to school out the window'. I didn't like missing school; we were only back from our summer holidays a few weeks. My mother dropped me off the night before because she had to work. I don't know why she forgot to pick me up'. 

     Alison interlocked her fingers into his and turned towards him. 

     'Jesus, I’m sorry to go on like that, we hardly know each other', said Nick, smiling uncomfortably. 

     'It’s ok', said Alison.

     'I get tired, that’s all ... I want to get away from here, go out on the boats again’

     'Is that why you are on the bus, to get away from things? asked Alison. 

     'I guess'

     'Me too', she said.  

     'Yeah, but we don't really have a choice do we? Though, it would be nice to hibernate like an animal, sleeping and resting, leaving the business of life to the world and just be an anonymous part of it’

     'Yeah, but what happens then? Asked Alison.  

     'Well, we get past things, and we are dead', said John smiling easily, 'nothing more to think or worry about, already given in to it’

     She leaned heavily against him and put her head on his shoulder. 

     'That would be a nice dream’

     'Just a dream I think', said John.  'Do you want to stay with me tonight? I am a good lover, I know this. I just get tired sometimes’

     It was the second time in 24 hours that someone had asked Alison if he could be her lover. She let go of his hand. 

     'Are you crazy as well?' she asked.  

     'Probably, but I'm telling the truth’

     She laughed, 'you probably are'. 

     Nick leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes for a few minutes. It was raining now and he listened to it pelting against the window of the bus. There was a cold draught at his feet. He put on his coat, but soon afterwards he started sweating and so he took it off again. He accepted the situation. She would not want to know him now. He had gone too far without thinking, just as in his life he had spent too much of his time hoping and praying for things that just don't add up. There are some things in the world he would have to accept just the way they are. He lay awake listening to the rain in the calmness of his realization and then he closed his eyes again, waiting to fall asleep.