The future father of her child was out there somewhere. The man who would make her world sunny even in the rain and who would give her the family she craved. ‘I know you’re out there,’ she whispered to the strip of sky visible over the muddle of rooftops. Even the thought was enough to fill her with a bubble of excitement.
‘Here we go. I’ve found a couple.’
Lisa took Kaylee and handed Anna two framed pictures, one of which had a photo-booth snapshot tucked into the bottom corner. One photo was of Sally and Michael on their wedding day, a black and white picture that showed his grainy face smiling at his new bride. He was tall and dark and looked so young. The next one was of him on holiday, holding Micky or Lisa on his lap, both of them enjoying a melting ice cream with messy faces. This image sent a flicker of jealousy through her. But the final picture, the little rectangle that had been shoved into the frame as an afterthought, was the one that drew her attention. It was nothing more than a slightly blurred image taken in a photo booth, but it showed her dad staring straight into the camera and it felt like he was looking at her.
‘This is wonderful!’ She beamed, running her fingertip over his face.
‘You can have it.’
‘Really? I can keep it?’ She hardly dared ask for fear Lisa might change her mind.
‘Course you can.’ Lisa nodded, watching as Anna peeled it carefully from the frame. ‘They’ll not notice.’ She jerked her head towards the stairs.
‘I wish...’
‘You wish what?’
‘I wish I knew the circumstances of how they met, my mum and Michael. Maybe Micky is right, it was no more than a quick, irrelevant thing, and maybe he only wrote to me because he felt guilty. I accept that I’ll never know, but it would make a difference to me.’
‘Course it would. I understand that. And if it helps at all...’ Lisa lowered her voice again. ‘He was a good man, a loyal man and if ever he had had a change of heart, his loyalty, his sense of duty would have been the thing that won out.’
Anna recognised the guts it must have taken to say this and once again felt immensely grateful for Lisa’s generosity. ‘Thank you, Lisa, for everything.’ She walked forward and held her half-sister in her arms. They were both a little awed by the enormity of this new chapter in their lives. ‘I can’t tell you how much this picture means to me.’
‘Will I see you again, do you think?’ Lisa asked, quietly.
‘Of course you will,’ Anna answered with certainty.
*
Anna sat on the bus with all sorts of emotions swirling in her head. She held the precious picture in the palm of her hand and stared at it the whole journey.
Michael Harper’s dark hair was smoothed back over a high forehead that resembled her own, and his smiling eyes, the same shape as hers, crinkled at the sides with kindness. But that wasn’t the main source of her fascination. No, it was his mouth that she couldn’t stop staring at. In the photo his mouth was open, his tongue was poking out and it was curled, indisputably curled.
You were right, Joe! This is my dad. My dad, Michael. He has dark hair like mine and he can curl his tongue.
As soon as she got home, she grabbed her plastic wallet of letters from the shelf in the corner, sat down at the table for two and began to write.
Dear Fifi and Fox,
How can I say this? I have always loved the idea of you, but now I know that I am ready for you! I am ready for you, my darlings! And this thought fills me with so much happiness, I feel I might explode!
I met my niece today – yes, I have a niece! Her name is Kaylee. And as soon as I held her, I knew that what I want more than anything in the world now is to be a mum. Your mum! So get ready, cos I’m properly on the lookout for your dad now.
I can’t wait to meet you, can’t wait to hold you, can’t wait to make you real.
I love you! I love you! I love you!
Mummy x
11
Anna stepped into the street outside Villiers House. One quick glance up and down the pavement and she decided to swerve lunch. The crowds and chaos told her that to venture forth would be more trouble than it was worth. With London hosting Euro 96, the streets were uncomfortably rammed with football-mad tourists, many of them sporting their country’s colours and in boisterous, holiday mood.
She sighed and rubbed her stomach, deciding she’d make a fresh pot of coffee and sip that through the afternoon to keep her hunger at bay. She walked slowly across the foyer and into the ancient lift, taking a deep breath, preparing to face the big window of her imagination as usual. She had now resorted to alphabetising the things she saw in the sky from the imaginary window: flower varieties, insects in the grass, even the names of her fictional neighbours. It wasn’t the easiest of rules: T – in the sky – had caused her angst until Tornado! had sprung into her mind very early one morning, as she’d visited the loo. Truth was, she quite enjoyed the challenge.
Where was I? My imaginary neighbour’s grandsons, that’s right...
W... William.
X... Xavier.
Y... Y...
‘Hold the lift!’ a man called in a posh voice, drawing her from her mind puzzle.
She looked up to see the man reaching out with his brown-paper lunch bag, as if it were a baton he had to pass mid relay. She watched with increasing anxiety as he ran across the ornate lobby and towards the closing doors of the lift cage.
‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath, much preferring to ride alone.
Bending forward, she pressed the ‘Door Close’ button over and over, hoping it would react quicker than he could run. She wanted to spare them both the inevitable awkward small talk that came with being confined together in a lift, or, worse, the embarrassed silence as they each picked a spot in the little cube and stared at it, wondering why it always seemed to take twice as long to shuffle between floors when you were in there with a stranger.
Her repeated pressing had no effect. With the arm of his navy suit lunging through the doors, the running man just made it. He slipped through the gap with precision timing.
‘Sorry! I was trying to figure out which button might hold the doors, but they’re all a bit worn.’ She wrinkled her nose, feeling her face colour as she lied. ‘I’m so used to getting in and pressing the floor I need, so I was a bit thrown. I kind of panicked.’ She babbled on, over explaining, trying to make her lie sound more truthful and causing her face to colour even more in the process.
‘Please don’t worry about it.’
He was certainly posh, with the sort of cut-glass accent that always made her feel very conscious of her own blunt London twang. He held up his palm with two fingers raised, as if anointing a subject, and took the spot at the back of the lift, in the corner.
She felt his presence keenly, hating that he was behind her and that she couldn’t see him. She wondered if he was looking at her and just the idea of that was enough to cause her shoulders to tense and her nerves to bite.
‘Although, in my defence, the whole building is like one of those thatch-roofed cottages – really cutesy to look at, nice to have a pub lunch opposite on a day out, but to live in them is difficult. I’ve read about them.’ Shut up, Anna! You’re just making it worse!
‘I see.’ Thankfully he sounded less than interested and she hoped he would get out soon, leaving her in peace for at least the last couple of floors.
Y... Y... Yuri. His grandpa was a space fan, named after Gagarin...
His cough threw her concentration.
‘There’s no storage in them either,’ she wittered on, her eyes closed in embarrassment. For God’s sake, shut up, Anna! ‘Leaky pipes, rats in the roof, low beams!’ She raised her palms as if to indicate that the list was endless.
‘Sorry...’ He paused. ‘But were you thinking of buying one?’ His tone suggested he was trying to keep up.
‘No! No.’ She gave a small giggle. If only. ‘I think my property-buying days are a little ahead of me. I live in a studio/cu
pboard in Fulham. Shitty but cheap – you know the kind of thing. But I am saving.’ She smiled. ‘And at my present rate, I should be good to go in about thirty years, given current London prices.’
There was a moment of silence before he decided to speak.
‘I’m not sure that’s strictly true, you know.’
His voice was beautiful, commanding – a newsreader’s voice that wrapped her in velvet and made her think of the finer things in life.
‘What isn’t?’ She looked at him briefly over her shoulder. Closer scrutiny of his face provided a pleasant surprise, a delight! Nice-looking. Open smile. Short, dark, curly hair. He’s tall. Lovely suit. White shirt, silk tie. Kind face, big eyes, long lashes... She pulled her shoulders back and smoothed her hair around her face.
‘I think it most unlikely that all thatched roofs have rats, and besides, I rather like this building,’ he continued.
She followed his gaze and looked up at the art deco panelling, imagining it once picked out in gilt, though it was now very faded. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like the building,’ she emphasised. ‘I’m just saying I don’t think it’s easy to work in. It’s draughty even in good weather, the wind rattles through the windows and I suspect this lift is one button-press away from plummeting to earth. And in case you are picturing that very scenario, my cousin lives in New York, where they have plenty of skyscrapers.’
‘So I believe.’ He smiled.
‘He told me that it’s pointless trying to jump before the lift hits the bottom – something to do with the rate of acceleration and how high you can jump, I don’t remember exactly – but it would only help you by millimetres at the most. Apparently.’ She spoke quickly, unnerved by the whole subject but smiling at the thought of Jordan and Levi, two of her favourite people on the planet. ‘Anyway, it wouldn’t be enough to save your ankles from shattering.’
She heard his soft burst of laughter over her shoulder. A nice laugh, not boisterous or irritatingly pitched or snorty or booming, just nice...
‘Well, aren’t you full of joy?’ he said as the lift approached the sixth floor.
She took a step towards the doors, fighting the urge to turn and look at him one more time. She wondered if their paths might cross again and was surprised to realise that she hoped they would. The rumble of hunger in her stomach had been replaced by something else, a mixture of desire and excitement. This lift experience had turned out to be far from awful.
‘Is that a south London accent?’ he asked quickly.
Was he also trying to prolong their interaction? She turned to him, getting the last look she wanted, and nodded her answer. He had good skin, bright eyes and she felt the flutter of attraction deep in her stomach.
‘Thought so. Whereabouts are you from?’
‘Oh...’ She gave an almost imperceptible sigh, raced through various possible answers in her head, then took a deep breath and decided to stop overthinking it. ‘Honor Oak Park originally and then I lived in Leytonstone, so east London too, not just south. You know it?’ she asked over her shoulder, waiting for the doors to open.
‘No.’ He shook his head.
The lift pinged its arrival.
Well, that’s that then! Goodbye, Lift Man, lovely posh Lift Man...
Two or three seconds passed and the doors had yet to open. Anna felt a flash of unease and her adrenalin spiked. She banged on the doors with the heel of her palm. Open! I need you to open now! I’m hot and I can’t breathe properly!
Reaching over, she pressed the button for the sixth floor repeatedly. Nothing happened. She looked over at the man in the corner, trying to hide the flare of panic that threatened and no longer interested in finding him attractive – she needed his help.
‘Can you kick them?’ she asked.
‘You want me to kick the doors?’
‘Yes!’ She pointed towards them in case he might be in any doubt about which doors she was referring to.
‘I don’t know what you think kicking them might achieve?’
‘I want them to open!’ She tried her best to keep the hysteria from her voice.
‘I know that. I’m just not sure kicking them is the best policy.’ He leant over and pressed the enamelled button with the number six on it.
‘Oh, that’s a good idea, press the floor and see if they open! Why didn’t I think of that?’ She slapped her forehead. ‘Oh, wait a minute, I did!’
‘Do you want me to help you or not?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do! But you are not helping!’ She raised her voice and ran her palm over her forehead. ‘You are only hoping that your button-pressing skills might be superior to mine, but clearly they aren’t, as we are still in the lift!’
‘What’s your name?’ he asked quietly.
She took several deep breaths and held his gaze. ‘Anna.’
‘Anna what?’
‘Anna Cole.’
She had to admit that it made her feel better, concentrating on him and the calming rhythm of his voice, his eyes that held hers.
‘I’m Theo. And would I be right in guessing that you’re not keen on being stuck in here?’
She looked at him and nodded, feeling the dots of sweat on her top lip. ‘I don’t...’ She took a breath. ‘I don’t like dark places or small spaces.’
‘Okay.’ He smiled at her, as if they were chatting in quite normal circumstances, as if they had all the time in the world. ‘I can understand that, Anna Cole, but trust me, you have absolutely nothing to feel worried about. These lifts have, er, up-to-the-minute devices fitted, which means that no matter what happens to the doors or the lift itself, it’s impossible for it to plummet and impossible for us to get stuck for any length of time. There is an alarm—’
‘There is?’ Anna tucked her hair behind her ear and cocked her head to one side, listening. This was very, very good news. ‘I can’t hear it.’
Theo, her lift buddy, smiled. ‘That’s because it’s a, um, silent alarm! It’s triggered by a sensor that goes straight to the lift-maintenance company and they will have someone on their way right now to get us moving. So as I say, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.’
‘Do... Do they ever run out of air?’ She toyed with the collar of her shirt and looked up to the mirrored ceiling, as if the air might be visible and leaking away.
‘No. That can’t happen.’ He spoke gently. ‘There are grates that allow air to circulate and the lift shaft takes a feed directly from the street, so it’s as good as being outside.’
‘Okay.’ She closed her eyes briefly and felt her pulse calm.
‘Why don’t you stand back a bit?’ He beckoned her towards the back wall. ‘I’m just going to call out through the door and let someone know that we’re in here.’
‘But the maintenance man is on his way, isn’t he? He’ll know we’re in here, right, like you said?’
‘Yes, absolutely, but the people in the building might not know yet, so it’s good to let them know too.’ He sounded assured. Anna watched as he raised his knuckles and knocked loudly. ‘Helloo!’ he called.
The returning knock was instant.
He turned to her and smiled. ‘See? There are people only feet away figuring out how to get the doors open. We’ll be free in no time.’
‘Okay. Okay.’ She nodded, rubbing her damp palms on her skirt.
Theo leant against the rail that ran round the lift at hip height. ‘Are you hungry? I have my sandwich here.’
She watched as he opened his brown paper bag to reveal a paper plate on which sat two thick slices of crusty white bread stuffed with thinly sliced ham and a smear of mustard. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled in response. He took out one of the triangles and bit into it, then handed her the bag.
‘Are you sure?’ She took the bag from his outstretched hand. It was a very kind thing to do and she was famished.
‘Of course!’ He nodded, chewing and swallowing his lunch.
‘This is good.’ She smiled with her mouth full. �
��Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. I’d have brought napkins and pudding had I known I wasn’t going to be dining alone.’
‘Oh, cake – you should have got cake!’ she enthused, distracted now. ‘I do love a bit of cake.’ She pictured a Victoria sandwich fit for a wedding.
‘So, where do you work?’ she asked, daintily nibbling on the crust and popping stray crumbs into her mouth with her finger.
‘Top floor.’ He pointed upwards. ‘The one above you.’
‘Oh, the property company? Is that right? I don’t really know who does what, it just seems like there are hundreds of blue suits coming in and out all day.’
‘Yes, property and land and renovations,’ he offered loosely. ‘Rooting out rats from thatched roofs, dealing with leaky pipes and rattly windows...’
You’re funny. I like that.
‘Do you like it there?’ She smiled, licking butter, mustard and crumbs from her fingers. Had she been alone, she would have wolfed down the lot in a few bites.
‘I like it on some days and on others not so much.’
‘What is it you do?’
‘A bit of everything.’
‘I see.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Could you be any more vague?’
Theo laughed. ‘And what is it you do on the sixth floor?’
‘I’m the receptionist. I answer the phone and put through calls to the brokers and keep the diary and take messages and make tea for visitors, sort the post. A bit of everything.’ She looked up at him.
‘I get the gist!’ He laughed.
‘What’s taking them so long?’ Anna sighed and lowered herself onto the floor, placing the paper plate on her lap, an option she had discounted only minutes earlier but which now seemed like a good idea.
‘They’ll be working on it.’
‘I hope so.’ She again took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘I think the people who own this building need to spend some money. It’s terrible the way they charge inflated rents but don’t really care about their tenants. It’s the same where I live. I often wonder how much my landlord makes – it wouldn’t be too big a deal to get the halls and stairways cleaned. I try my best, but...’ She shrugged. ‘I bet in the landlord’s offices they’ve got central heating and luxury carpets and draught-free windows, while idiots like us shiver in chilly hallways and get stuck in the lift!’ She banged the wall. ‘Not that I can moan, our office is totally fitted out – it’s beautiful, very modern. Horrible artwork though.’
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