So deep in thought had she been, Martha hadn’t noticed that the lift had come to a stop on the eighth floor. She waited for the doors to open and admit someone, but they remained shut. With a tut of annoyance,she pressed the button for the tenth floor, but when nothing happened, she jabbed it again. And again.
But still nothing.
Hmmm …she thought with deepening annoyance.
She counted to five, then pressed the button once more. Her initial relief when the lift gave a judder and began to move upwards was soon gone when it jerked to an abrupt stop, and then dropped sharply before making a loud creaking noise and coming to another sudden stop. Imagining the lift plummeting all the way to the ground floor, Martha gripped the handrail with her free hand. Standing very still, scared to move in case it caused the lift to drop again, she held her breath and slowly stretched out a hand towards the control panel. She pressed the button to open the door, but nothing happened. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to summon help by pressing the emergency alarm button.
After what seemed an age, a man’s reassuringly calm voice filled the small space and introduced himself as Andy. He informed her that he was a maintenance contractor and needed a few important details from her, such as her name, the exact location of the building and the lift ID, which was on a panel above the doors.
‘And how many of you are in the lift?’ he then asked.
‘Just me,’ she said.And my precious unborn baby, she wanted to add.
‘And you’re not hurt in any way?’
‘No. But I’m pregnant and—’ Panicky fear unexpectedly had the better of her and her throat constricted –What if she and her baby were about to die?
‘And?’ prompted the reassuring voice.
She fought hard to loosen the tension in her throat. ‘What if there’s a cable that’s about to snap and the lift crashes to the ground floor?’ she said.
‘That’s not going to happen. There’s always more than one cable attached to a lift, and what you’re imagining only happens in the movies.’
‘You’re not lying to me, are you, just to make me feel better?’
‘No Martha, I’m not lying. Is it all right if I call you Martha?’
She wanted to screamNO! Just get me out of here!‘Yes,’ she said.
‘So Martha, do you suffer from claustrophobia?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good,’ he said, as if ticking off a list of questions.
‘And when’s your baby due?’
She had to think. When? When was her due date? Come on brain, you can do this. ‘In three months,’ she said finally.
‘Is it your first?’
She knew what he was doing; he was keeping her occupied in an attempt to keep her calm. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But if you don’t mind, can we keep the small talk to a minimum and you just get me out of here?’
‘Absolutely. Help will shortly be on its way.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Do you have your mobile with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want call someone to inform them of your whereabouts?’
Herwhereabouts?She was trapped in a bloody lift, not lost on the North Circular!
‘Your husband perhaps?’ he said. ‘Or your wife?’ he added, as though remembering the rule book when it came to inclusivity and avoiding any offence.
‘I’ll try my husband,’ she said, knowing that the signal was never very good inside in the lift. That was when she realised she was still holding the paper cup of coffee she’d picked up in the foyer. She placed it on the floor of the lift and took out her mobile.
