Valerie was hurrying to work when she suddenly realised, only moments after stepping out of the block of flats, that shed left her mobile at home. With a frustrated sigh, she turned back and slipped into the lift, pressing the button for the eighth floor. But halfway up, the lift shuddered and ground to a halt. Trapped between floors, she leaned against the cold metal, willing herself to stay calm until help arrived.
As she waited, the muffled voices in the corridor outside drifted through the flimsy lift doors. It was unmistakably her husband, Gregory, talking to a woman whose voice Valerie recognised: Violet, the neighbour from Number 40.
My darling Violet, Gregorys voice murmured, thick with affection. How much longer must we wait? I cant tell you how I look forward to being with you again.
Tonight, love, well be together, Violet replied, her tone equally tender. Come by after ten.
Your husbands on another night shift? Gregory asked quietly.
He is. The entire week, actually. Leaves just after nine thirty, back in the morning. Hell be home soon, so we cant dawdle, she whispered.
Why is this lift taking so long? Gregory grumbled, growing impatient. Neither of them seemed to realise a soul was stranded inside.
As their conversation meandered, Gregory thanked Violet for the happiness their secret meetings brought him, cherishing every blissful moment. At first, Valerie thought perhaps she was imagining things; it couldnt possibly be her husband in the hallway speaking so lovingly. But when Violet addressed Gregory by nameand, worse, referenced Valerie herselfas if she were a mere inconvenience, the truth crashed down on her. Gregory was having an affair with Violet, their neighbour on the eighth floor.
Valeries heart hammered in her chest. So thats where you go on your so-called evening strolls, she thought grimly. To breathe the night air, you said. Ill make sure you never forget this little walk, Gregory.
Soon, the maintenance men arrived and pried open the lift doors. Valerie slipped through, her mind already racing with retribution.
That evening, near ten oclock, Gregory made his usual preparationsthe fresh air walk. He called to Valerie from the hall, Val, Im popping out for an hour.
But its pouring down outside! she protested, peering dubiously through the window.
Just a bit of English weather, thats all, Gregory replied. Besides, I need the exercisedoctors orders. You dont get many steps in on a balcony, do you?
At least take an umbrella, Valerie urged.
He grinned, snatched up an umbrella, and left with a nonchalant wave. Back in an hour, love.
He returned just thirty minutes later, soaking wet, shoes missing, and his face pale with shock. Valerie answered the door, but only opened it on the latch.
Wheres your brolly? And where are your thingsyour coat, shoes? she asked, eyes narrowed.
Some kids mugged me! Took the lot. Please, just let me in, Valits freezing!
Ive packed your belongings, she replied coldly, nodding towards the rubbish chute. You can collect them there. Why not say hello to Violet while youre at it?
What Violet?
The one on the eighth floor, neighbour of ours. Ring any bells? With that, Valerie shut the door and went to watch the telly.
Thank heavens the kids are grown and moved out, she thought. They didnt need to witness this disgrace.
Gregory dashed to the rubbish chute, found his suitcase, changed into clean clothes, and, after glancing anxiously around, decided to take a taxi to his mothers. But as luck would have it, hed left his phone at Violets flat. He turned back to request Valeries phonebut, fatefully, got trapped in the lift as the entire buildings power cut out. Like Valerie before him, he was now stranded on the eighth floor.
Once the power returned and the doors opened, Gregory emerged just as Valerie was leaving for work. Lacking keys to her flat, all he could do was trudge dismally down the stairs. On the eighth floor, he ran straight into Violet herself, suitcase in hand, waiting for the lift.
My phone, Gregory asked quietly, shame and fear in his voice.
Violet nodded nervously. Yes, and your things. Theyre with me.
That was all the comfort they had. In stony silence, they rode the lift together and waited outside for separate taxis, each heading their own way into the dark, rainy English night.
