**Diary Entry 12th December**
Frost had settled over the motorway early that morning, turning the tarmac into a glistening sheet, as though dusted with powdered sugar. The air was sharp, the kind of cold that nipped at your cheeks and made your breath fog in front of you. There was something quiet about mornings like this, as if the world had slowed just a little.
As a bus driver, Id known these roads for twenty years. Every bend, every potholethey were as familiar to me as the back of my hand. There wasnt much traffic at this hour, just the usual handful of passengers. Two students with their headphones in, lost in their phones. An elderly man flipping through a newspaper, adjusting his glasses as if he couldnt quite read the print. A young couple dozing against each other in the warmth of their coats.
Then, at a bend near the outskirts, I spotted her. A woman, standing by the roadside. Not waving, not hailingjust standing there, motionless. She wore a thin coat, no match for the cold, and clutched something bundled in her arms. At first, I thought it was a bag, but as I pulled closer, I realisedit was a child. A little boy, wrapped tight in a scarf, pale as paper.
I rolled down the window. You alright, love?
She hesitated, then stepped forward. II need to get to the hospital, she said, her voice trembling. My sons poorly.
I didnt think. Just swung the door open. Get in.
She climbed aboard, careful not to jostle the boy. The other passengers glanced over but said nothing. Some things dont need explaining.
Her name was Emily. Single mother, no family nearby. The boyThomashad taken ill in the night. No money for a taxi, no buses running this early. So shed walked.
The hospital wasnt far, but every minute felt like an hour. When we arrived, I stopped right by the doors. Go on, I told her. Ill wait.
She looked stunned. You youll wait?
I shrugged. Course I will.
An hour and a half later, she returned. The boy was still bundled up, but she looked lighter, relieved. They gave him medicine, she said. Hell be alright.
I nodded. Good.
She hesitated again. II can find my own way home
Dont be daft, I said. Hop in.
The ride back was quiet. The boy, awake now, watched me with big eyes. Emily talkedabout how hard it was, raising a child alone in a village with no proper chemist. No buses at night. No help. I listened. Sometimes, thats all a person needs.
When we reached her stop, she turned to me. Thank you, she said, voice thick. I dont know how to repay you.
I waved her off. Just take care of that lad.
Months later, I saw her again at the same stop. She handed me a small bageggs, milk, things from her garden. For you, she said.
I tried to refuse, but she wouldnt hear it. Then the boyThomaspeeked out from behind her and whispered, Thank you, mister.
Two little words. That was all.
Funny, isnt it? How the smallest kindness can come back to you when you least expect it. Sometimes, all it takes is stopping for someone. And sometimes, thats enough.
