The Engine Driver
“It’s like everything else in life,” thought Tom as he lowered his car window and called over to a man standing by the roadside. “It’s like everything else,” he continued talking to himself, “what you dream of being in life and what actually happens are generally two different things.”
“Yes?” asked the man as he approached the window.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” said Tom in a very refined British accent, “but do you happen to know where the Lloyds Bank that used to be on this corner has moved to?”
“Closed,” replied the man, trying to leave.
“Closed?” asked Tom, tending not to believe him, “do you mean closed, closed, or did they move elsewhere?”
The man couldn’t be bothered answering the question, he didn’t want to be drawn into an inane back and forth so he shrugged his shoulders and walked back to where he was standing before.
“See what I mean,” continued Tom to himself as he rolled up his window, “I bet you that man wanted to be something other than what he is today, and that’s why he was so unhelpful.”
Tom dialled a number; the phone rang at the other end. “Can I help you?” said a woman’s voice.
“Sorry, I hope I dialled the right number,” but before he finished his sentence the woman interrupted him.
“I bet you’re not doing in life what you wanted to do when you were ten!”
“I wanted to be an engine driver,” replied Tom reflexively.
“And are you one? Are you an engine driver?” asked the woman.
“No,” replied Tom and then he hesitated, “before you continue, who are you?” he asked.
“I am the person you dialled,” the woman replied.
Touché, thought Tom feeling he had met his match. “I apologise I think I made a mistake. I’m not sure what number I called.”
“You called my number,” replied the woman not wishing to give away any more information. Tom was forced to look at his phone and the number he had dialled. He realised he had dialled the incorrect number.
“I am sorry,” he began apologetically, “I should’ve dialled a 7 and instead I dialled an 8.”
“And had you dialled a 7 who would you have called?”
“Lloyds Bank,” replied Tom. That was an easy question to answer.
“Which Lloyds Bank?” asked the woman who apparently appeared to be enjoying the back-and-forth.
“The one at the corner of High and Main Street,” he replied.
“What city?’ asked the woman inquisitively.
“Oxford.” replied Tom a little exhausted.
“Oh, they closed.” the woman replied.
“Closed, closed or moved?” asked Tom and immediately thought to himself, why don’t I just dial the right number, but it was too late.
“Moved,” replied the woman.
“Do you happen to know where they moved?”
“Just around the corner,” she replied feeling powerful, “to High Street and Berkeley Street,” she added not wanting to continue what Tom had begun as it was becoming a tedious conversation.
“Thank you,” said Tom but the woman had hung up the phone. Tom lowered his window. “They moved around the corner,” he shouted across the street to the man who looked up casually at Tom and stuck his middle finger up. “Obviously well bred!” shouted Tom as he put up his window, just in case the man decided to shout obscenities at him. He put the car into gear and moved away from the side of the road after making sure it was clear.
He drove in the direction of the new location of the bank and two minutes later he was pulling into the bank car park which was empty. He wondered if the bank was open and a quick check of his watch confirmed that it should be. He got out, locked the car and walked over to the ornate front door of the bank. He pulled open the door and walked in. He suddenly realised that he was standing on the floor of the bank but was alone. He was puzzled. There were no tellers and the desks on the floor which would normally be manned were vacant. How odd, he thought to himself, how really odd.
After thinking for a moment as to what he should do next, Tom decided to walk up to one of the teller windows and see if there was a bell he could ring which would summon someone. But there was no bell.
“Hello!” he shouted, leaning over the counter but no one answered his call. He was very disturbed. “How really odd. I could walk behind the cashier‘s desk and take as much money as I wanted.” He thought about doing that for a second, but before he could put his plan into action, he heard a woman’s voice behind him.
“I see you found the bank.” He recognised the voice as the woman on the phone. He smiled. It was his wife! “Hello darling,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t rob the bank, honey.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because there’s no one here.”
“But I’m not a crook.”
“You’re not an engine driver either are you darling?”
Tom wanted to reply, but the right words escaped him. He felt a tap on his shoulder but he was afraid to look around. He decided to leave and he grabbed his wife’s arm but she didn’t move. He panicked. He suddenly realised that something really bizarre was happening and he wanted it to end. He wasn’t sure what to do. His wife wasn’t smiling at him anymore. He felt another tap on the shoulder but this time when he looked he saw the smiling face of his wife holding out a cup of tea to him. He was confused. He turned back to the woman he thought was his wife but she had changed into his mother. He turned back to his wife and let go of his mother’s hand.
“I knew you’d never be an engine driver,” she said sadly.
“You are right mummy,” he whispered sadly, “I guess I became a bank manager.”
He took the cup of tea from his wife’s hand.
“Drink up darling,” she said, “you don’t want to be late for work. Did you have another nightmare?”
A tear slid down Tom’s right cheek, “I believe so,” he replied quietly, as he took a sip of the tea.
“The same one you’ve had for years?”
“Yes,’ he replied. His wife squeezed his arm and got up from the bed.
“Don’t you think it’s time to see a therapist?” Tom nodded his head. “Rachel gave me the name and phone number of a very good one. Should I call him?”
Tom looked up at his wife sadly, she smiled. “I’ll call him when he gets to the office.” she hesitated for a second and then leant over and kissed his forehead.