Harrys days quickly merged into each other, no two trips were ever the same though. Sometimes he'd carry everyone he carried on that first night, sometimes just the little girl, sometimes just Mr Parsons, sometime just the hairy man and sometimes just the elderly lady.
Mr Parsons was his most frequent passenger but there were nights when Harry picked up nobody at all.
As days blurred into weeks then months Harry gradually got to know his passengers a little better.
He discovered the little girls name was Megan, the elderly lady was Mrs Thompson (but she preferred him to call her Aggie) and the hairy man finally introduced himself as George.
However Mr Parsons remained Mr Parsons.
Long after all the other passengers had gotten comfortable calling him Harry (their Mr Burton stage had passed quickly) Mr Parsons still insisted on calling him driver, no familiarity for that one. Harry assumed he was just that type of person.
George and Aggie both said he most certainly was just that type and Harry shouldn't take it personally, Megan had told him it had taken her a long time before she'd been allowed to call him Mr Parsons too. It was clear, there was a character Harry wasn't going to get close to.
Before one shift in the late autumn Harry discovered a note in his pigeon hole.
Please be aware there was an accident during the day on the route of the fifty-six. A young male hitch-hiker was hit by a car coming over a blind hill. He was killed instantly. It is possible there may still be police on the route so please drive safely.
Harry was met at the door of the depot by Martin as usual, this had now become a long established ritual for them. Harry took the bus key and walked with Martin to the stand where the fifty-six N stood waiting for him.
On this night, Harry got all the regulars. Mr Parsons as formal as ever, Megan happy to be visiting her mother, Aggie struggling as per usual with her heavy trolley and George enjoying his seat at the back all alone as always.
Pulling up at the penultimate stop Harry could see someone standing down the road a little, just outlined in his headlights. It was very unusual to see any pedestrians walking down this road. Whoever the person was, they weren't moving toward the bus stop. Harry had a short internal debate with himself.
He believed in trying to help anyone if he could and this appeared to be someone that might need his help. As the bus timer chimed Harry pulled away slowly, idling the bus to the point where it pulled level with the pedestrian. Harry opened the bus door and soon cottoned on, this wasn't a pedestrian. The young man standing on the grass verge was a hitch-hiker, obvious by the large and heavy looking green rucksack on his back.
"You look lost young fellow. No cars come down here, it's a dead end. Would you like a ride?" Harry offered.
The young hitch-hiker patted his pockets and looked unsure. "I haven't got any money mate, I was trying to get to the city. I was meeting some friends."
Harry smiled. "It's okay, I'm sure no-one will mind me giving you a ride. It's late, it's dark and it's the middle of nowhere. What kind of person would I be if I left you there?"
A voice from behind Harry had to be picky. Rules were rules. "Passengers have to pay a fare, driver." It was Mr Parsons and he had Harry on a technicality.
Harry waved the young man aboard and gestured to the luggage rack. "Sit in there mate, we'll bend the rules as far as they can go."
Harry turned to Mr Parsons, "Passengers may have to pay, but all luggage travels for free." happy to have finally gotten one over on him even if it was by bending the rules as far as he could. He then closed the door and made his way to the terminus, driving as close to the speed limit as possible to make up for the lost time.
At the terminus everyone but the young man got off as usual.
Harry got out of the cab. "You'll have to get off while I turn around, you can get back on in the luggage rack and I'll give you a ride back into the city if you like. I can drop you anywhere along the route that you like before I reach the depot."
The young man climbed out of the luggage rack and got off the bus. He stood in front of the bus shelter as Harry did the turn to face the bus back the way it came from. When Harry pulled up along side the shelter the young man and his rucksack were gone. Mr Parsons was standing where he'd been. "It's alright driver, everything’s been dealt with. He's where he needs to be now."
As Harry opened his mouth to protest Mr Parsons held up a single finger and said, as stiffly as ever "No questions driver." Harry knew to let it go, Mr Parsons wasn't someone you argued with.
For several months afterwards that particular journey bothered Harry. Slightly, if he didn't pick up Mr Parsons. But even more so on the nights he travelled.
He assumed Mr Parsons had grown used to the harsh glares he was giving him as he got on and off at his usual stops, it certainly didn't seem to bother him if he was the only passenger Harry didn't smile at or exchange small talk or pleasantries to.