Something Else

Chapter 3 - The Meeting

Stacey gazed out of the window, only noticing for the first time the small stream and wooden bridge that lined this side of the park as the bus turned into Alison Road.
The Lilies in the pond were beginning to flower, and the ducks basked lethargically in the mid-day sun. It was a peaceful sight – but Stacey still looked sad.
The bus chugged and bumped its way from the City to Coogee, finding every pothole the heavy rains had left behind, and soon, with the heat as well, Stacey began to pray her journey would end before she was violently sick.

The sun had brought out bargain hunters in their droves. Multitudes of senior citizens on their way home clamoured for seats, pushing and shoving their way down the aisle, laden with shopping bags crammed full of hard jagged items, which gouged and bruised any leg that dared to get in the way. There were no apologies on this bus – only mutters of inconvenience and grunts. And, if all that wasn't enough, Stacey now found herself jammed mercilessly up against the window in less than her rightful share of the seat. An extremely obese woman of European extract, who had sat down beside her, now puffed and panted in her cheap nylon dress, wiping trickles of sweat from her chubby face, breathing what seemed like toxic levels of garlic over her.

Once back in Coogee, Stacey emerged from the bus looking particularly green. She stepped onto the pavement welcoming the cool offshore breeze, taking a deep breath in the hope of ridding her lungs of the obnoxious body odours she had been forced to inhale.

It was one o'clock. Stacey had finished all she'd needed to do at the city branch of Threads, and feeling the way she was, had decided to come back to the warm, friendly atmosphere of the Coogee branch to sort out one or two ideas she had for the coming summer months.

As she walked past the chicken shop, she remembered she hadn't eaten all day, but then the thought of actually eating something turned her stomach. She'd been off her food now for at least five days – and she knew exactly where the problem lay.

She stood on the side of the pavement waiting for the little red man to turn green and glanced back to the line of taxis waiting down beside the bus terminal.

She had felt so low once she had found out that the gorgeous blue cab driver was, in fact, the notorious Lee Stevens – "Bastard Of Britain Extraordinaire", as he was labelled amongst her friends. She hadn't heard one good word about him, and couldn't believe he was one and the same person.

She'd fallen for him virtually the moment their eyes had met last Thursday morning. And every time she thought about him - the way he had winked at her - the way he had stared at her through the crowded dance floor at Vibrations, her stomach went into a nauseating flutter of butterflies. Why did it have to be him?

She walked sullenly up the hill towards threads, knowing she just had to pull herself together. Nothing could ever happen between them – not knowing his reputation – and now that he knew she was one of Joe's crowd, he wouldn't be in the least bit interested anyway. It saddened her. She was best off completely forgetting about him rather than making herself feel worse by thinking about him.

Inside Threads, the air conditioner fought against the 40-degree heat outside.
Stacey went through to the back-room, wondering where everyone had got to and found Claire hunched over the telephone, with Teresa keeping an eye on the door, encouraging her to go through with something which looked like a difficult phone call.

'Hi,' said Stacey, smiling as she came into the staffroom.

Teresa greeted her with a cheerful smile. 'Hi, how are you?'

'Good,' she replied. She then turned her eyes on Claire, who had aggressively slammed down the receiver and glared at Stacey with a look of contempt. 'Do you mind!' she spat, not hiding the fact that she thought Stacey had ignorantly intruded. 'I'm trying to make a private phone call!'