It Happened On A Bin Day

She loved her job as a bin lady, and she loved the crew she worked with... enough to go out with one of them?

- JULIA DOUGLAS

Not wanting to wake my parents or little sister, I slip out of the house as quietly as possible. Mum never understood why I wanted a job that meant getting up at five, let alone why her daughter wanted to be a bin lady, but I like being outdoors, doing something essential, with no one breathing down my neck. Most days anyway. This morning I really didn't want to get up.

As I cycle through the depot gates in the early morning light, I get that guilty feeling I used to get if I arrived late for school and found everyone had gone in for assembly.

Pristine Priscilla, the cleanest bin lorry in the county, is the only truck left in the yard. My crew stand beside her in their all-yellow uniforms of shiny trousers, tennis shirt and hi-vis vest. Fred "Flintstone" Harris is about 50, bald, with glasses. Nat is 22, like me, wiry, with cropped black hair and an earring. Their tattooed arms are folded, their faces glum.

The job is "finish and go", which means the sooner we start the earlier we go home, and their girl has let them down.

"Sorry guys!" I call as I pedal to the bike rack and chain up my mountain bike.

I'm already in uniform, blonde hair tied back. When I trot to the truck, Flintstone and Nat are aboard, the older man behind the wheel and Nat in the middle seat. Well, he deserved to beat me to that prized position this morning.

"Everything alright, Dusty?" Nat asks.

"Why wouldn't it be?" I snap.

"Keep your wig on." He holds up his palms with a chuckle. "Not like you to be late, that's all."

I bite my lip and look out of the window.

I'll have to tell them about Si- there are no secrets among a bin crew-but I don't want to start the day with waterworks.