I get on the bus at the bottom of the Bayswaters, Roundhay Road. I know this route like the back of my hand. Trundling up through Roundhay, to Princes Avenue and Roundhay Park. Everywhere you look here, it’s a different nationality. Arab souk. Indian bazaar. Polish delicatessen. It’s changed. Not so friendly as it used to be. But lively. Very lively.

Slowly, the view changes, as we go up past the big Tescos and take a left turn at Oakwood Clock. Posher here: a different world. Bijou bars with speciality beers; and houses with big gardens. Off I get, at the stop opposite Roundhay Park. Trees dripping with green. Beautiful blue sky. Not a cloud to be seen.

I am a woman on a mission. In my hand I have a little piece of paper. There’s a flat up for rent. I want to go and look at it. It’s time I moved. Where I live, down the other end of Roundhay Road, is another country. Sirens. Noise. Fighting. Stealing. Shouting day and night. I don’t feel safe there any more. They took away the warden and now nothing’s the same.

Here we are now, at the park. Everything’s very peaceful, very green. I like it here. I relax straight away. And this: this is my mission. Find that place with the flat for rent. And make it mine. I take a few wrong turnings but then, oh!, here I am. Found it. And it looks very graceful. Yorkshire stone and a big old Victorian building. With a manicured garden. This is a different world, alright. It’s one I want to live in now. One I deserve.

My parents were rich, you know. Very rich. They sent me to private school. I’m an only child. But I wasn’t happy. They wanted me to marry someone I didn’t like. But I refused. And that was it. Cut me off without a penny. Nothing. But one thing I do have is autonomy.

You know what? I like this feeling. Getting off this bus in the brilliant sunshine, and wandering around like I own the place, own the trees, and the green spaces, and the sky itself. And in a way, I do. I carry it all before me and I know I’ll be moving on. Leaving it all behind me. Stepping forward into the light. Into freedom. The new person I was always meant to be. Thank you Number 12 bus. For bringing me here today. I’m a different person to the one I was when I got on board. And there’s no way I am ever going back.

Not long after this, I hear they’ve turned me down for a place at the new flats because of my Alzheimers. But I don’t give up. And by the following year, I live somewhere else entirely, with green trees out the back, a squirrel to watch, and birds to feed. And peace of mind, after all this time.