At the back of the bus a less than serene tourist dealt her fretting child a short sharp slap and Bertram Bombadier looks up from the road shocked at the sudden shrill cry of the child. The crazy dog runs into the road to avoid the bus now driving towards the precinct just as Bertrum looks up and corrects his mistake adjusting his trajectory and jarring his wheel in a deep pothole. The bus hovers momentarily on one on axle then turns creaking onto it's side grinding along the road's surface with stubborn determination towards the pavement and the shocked by standing shoppers.
As in all such moments as these there is a moment when time seems to forget herself and stands still in a daydream state. A butterfly flaps its wings against the purple buddleia of the advertisement for the Botanic Gardens. The butterfly is unaffected by the bus's fight against gravity being airborne but it too comes to an end as Bertrum's tiffin box is dislodged from the locker above his head and guillotines one wing from the insect's body.
The diesel spilling into the road soon flares in a flint spark lighting the windows to sunset orange flowers. The clamouring passengers make their escape through windows wreathed in black fumes as Bertrum's cries at the loss of his job, his home, his wife and children. This is a catastrophe with far reaching consequences. It is then that he notices the girl with the secret smile that got on at the last stop with her carpet bag lying half in the isle, unmoving.
Having been knocked unconscious by a watermelon flung out of its place in the luggage rack the first thing Bella knows is gaining consciousness waking in a simple room with white curtains billowing gently at the open window, grogginess holding her eyelids heavy a drip in one arm trickling endlessly. She raises her aching head cautiously, looking about the room, the sunlit silver edged wings of the birds flying into inky storm clouds at the window and a letter on the desk just out of reach. It is a German stamp and her mother's hand. Relief flooded her as she slumped back on to the White crisp sheets.
She has no recollection of how she came to be here only the sense of a morphine enduced gypsy woman dancing through her dreams in a flowing dress singing "I am serenity" to the beat of her heart loud in her ears.
A nurse entered and took her temperature, her blood pressure. Bella gestured to the letter and was told
"Florence, your sister, she is coming now from Germany. We found your address in your Passport and contacted next of kin."
Why did the nurse tell her that her sister's name was Florence? Did they think she had lost her memory? She wondered idly whether her sister still carried the stone in her shoe as penance against the sin of her unfaithfulness. Would she never forgive herself this one indiscretion? After all, it was Gregor who had cheated so many times before and he did not seem to feel the need to punish himself, nor indeed excuse his behaviour. Maybe this would be good for Florence, to get away and learn there are many ways to be faithful that having nothing to do with fidelity.
A handsome young Doctor entered the room unaware that his looks would be responsible for raising the heart rate of many of his patients. Bella sat up a little, shaking herself into better consciousness and read his name tag, John Anderson, and a small Swedish flag. She looked at him appreciating his serious face and smiling eyes. Boy would she have enjoyed a secret liaison with him. He enquires as to how she was feeling
"Did you have a good sleep? Don't worry about the swelling, it will go down in time." He had the most endearing lisp and a delicious accent that made her think of spiced warm milk for some reason. What a joy it would be to be held dear in those knowledgeable eyes, in those expert hands. What heaven would be discovered on that day of happiness.
