NOW
The lift intercom buzzes and this time Marianne responds.
‘Hello? Yes.’ The conversation is short, but the news is bad: they’re still waiting on a part.
It’s going to be longer than expected, maybe another twenty minutes.
Mr Honeyvoice sounds apologetic, or maybe he’s just braced for Cyclone Marianne to make landfall.
But all she says is, ‘I guess we don’t have a choice.
’ You might miss the wobble in her voice if you weren’t listening for it.
‘Great.’ I rest my head against the wall of the lift and close my eyes.
‘That I was a lift-tampering menace in search of a book deal?’
‘Sure. But you have to admit there’s something strange going on here.’
‘No kidding, we’re stuck in a lift.’
‘It’s not just that. There’s something strange about the man on the intercom.
He keeps telling us it’ll be twenty minutes but then twenty minutes passes and there’s another problem that’ll take another twenty minutes.
We’ve only heard his voice, which means we only have his word about what’s happening outside this lift. He’s delaying us.’
I’m listening. ‘Okay?’
‘What if I was right about the lift being sabotaged, but it’s him?’
‘Who?’
‘The man on the intercom.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea. I’m telling you, this doesn’t feel normal. Where are the fire services? Why haven’t we heard from Hap?’
‘Who’s Hap?’
‘He’s the building manager. We play tennis together.’
Of course they do.
‘I’m telling you, if Hap knew I was in here he would be on the phone or organising for someone to come down and rescue us.’ Marianne points to the ceiling hatch. ‘Something’s not right.’
Marianne waits. Maybe she’s waiting for me to object. Maybe she’s waiting for me to agree. Possibly she’s waiting for the man on the other end of the intercom to call and defend himself.
‘There’s something I didn’t want to say,’ I say carefully, ‘because it seemed like you were really freaking out before.’
‘What?’
‘Why don’t our phones work in here? I know sometimes the reception gets screwy in lifts, but I don’t even have a single bar, and no WiFi.’
Marianne takes out her phone and turns it over in her hands. ‘You’re right, she says. ‘It shouldn’t be such a dead zone.’ Her breathing is speeding up. ‘So you agree with me? This. Is. A. Nightmare!’
‘I’m not saying I agree that the random guy on the intercom has sabotaged the lift,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m just acknowledging it is a little … weird.’
‘This is not happening,’ Marianne says to herself. ‘I’m going to wake up and this will be a dream.’
‘Keep taking deep breaths,’ I say, trying to remember anything I’ve ever read about panic attacks. Is the thing about putting your head between your legs just for plane crashes?
‘I’m going to ask to speak to Hap,’ Marianne says, between breaths.
‘And what’s your tennis buddy going to do for us?’
‘It’ll give us data. If Hap tells me it’s an electrical fault, I’ll believe it.
’ Marianne pronounces the word data, the American way, and it occurs to me that, while I’ve been spilling all my family secrets, I don’t know all that much about Marianne – other than the fact that she is powerful in her industry, kind of a ruthless bitch and scared of confined spaces.
Has she spent time in America or is this a quirk, like the way I pronounced Hermione before I saw the Harry Potter movies?
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I say, because I don’t know what else to say.
‘You do it,’ she says.
I stab the intercom button. When the voice on the other end says ‘Hello?’, I explain about Hap and that Marianne would really like to talk to him.
‘I’ll try to find him. But this electrical fault is causing problems all over the building, so Hap is running around putting out fires.’
‘Fires?’ Marianne says from the other side of the lift.
‘I think the fires are metaphorical,’ I whisper.
We sit in silence until Marianne says, ‘Come on then, what happened next? Did you really team up with Lilia and Ben? He seems like such a weasel.’
‘He is. Are you sure you still want to hear it, though?
‘Can you summarise it for me? Give me dot points?’
‘It’s not really a dot point kind of a story.’
‘It would be if you finished this sentence: Felix’s death was a …?’
‘Forget it.’
‘Sorry. I’m being insensitive.’ Marianne doesn’t sound very sorry.
‘It’s fine.’
‘I would like to hear your story,’ Marianne says carefully, like it costs her. ‘It really does help distract me. Until I hear from Hap, at least.’
A long silence.
‘Okay. But I’m not giving you dot points.’