Valentina Was Heading to Work When She Suddenly Realised She’d Left Her Phone at Home—She Decided to Turn Back, Stepped Into the Lift, and Then…

Valerie was marching briskly towards her office in Norwich when she suddenly realised, with the subtle panic borne of modern dependence, that shed left her phone at home. She turned on her heel, doubled back into her block of flats, and hopped into the lift which, of course, chose that moment to throw a tantrum and stop dead on the eighth floor.

Valerie perched awkwardly on her heels, counting tiles on the ceiling, hoping someone would save her from this steel coffin. Suddenly, voices wafted in from the corridor. She stiffened. It was her husband, Gregorys, dulcet tones, and he was definitely not alone.

Oh, my darling Lottie, she heard him coo, making Valerie clamp a hand to her mouth. You know, I simply cant wait until were together again.

Tonight, darling, tonight, purred the womanimpossible to mistake: Charlotte herself from the flat on the fortieth. After ten, as always.

Is your husband doing another night shift?

All this week, love, Charlotte replied, soft as whipped cream. Hes off at half nine, back before the sparrows. Well need to be quick, mind.

Gregory, meanwhile, fussed around the lift like an agitated squirrel. Why is this lift taking so long? he grumbled.

They nattered on for a good four minutes before they cottoned on that, perhaps, the lift was genuinely out of service. Eventually, feet trudged off. Gregory thanked Charlotte for all the happiness and delightful rendezvousValerie thought she might be sick in her own handbag.

At first, Valerie assumed shed misheardits not out of the ordinary to hear passionate confessions in a council block hallwayuntil Charlotte uttered Gregorys name, followed swiftly by Valeries own. It all came crashing down: her husband was cheating with the next-door neighbour, right on the eighth floor. Well, how convenient! No wonder he always needed a breath of fresh air before bed.

She was still fuming (and plotting rather creative vengeance) when, at last, the engineers arrived and rescued her from her lift-induced captivity.

Come ten oclock, as reliable as the BBC weather forecast is unreliable, Gregory announced, Val, Im popping out for an hour. Just nipping for a walk.

Valerie stifled a laugh. In this rain, Greg? Why not pop out onto the balcony and breathe in some drizzle instead?

I need to move, darlinggood for the heart, cant get the steps in up there! he protested. Ill take a brolly.

Well, I warned you. But its not really your lucky day, Gregory.

Never believed in luck. See you in a bit.

He was gone for barely half an hour before slinking back, looking like a dog that had misjudged a fence. Valerie opened the door, chain still firmly in place.

Umbrella, coat, shoeswhere are they? she asked sweetly.

Some blokes mugged me! Gregory wailed. Took the lot. Quick, let me in, Im freezing!

Packaged up your things for you. Theyre by the bins. Say hello to Charlotte for me, wont you?

Charlotte who?

Eighth floor Charlotte.

Valerie shut the door, flicked the TV on, and thought dryly, Thank goodness the kids are grown and out of the house. Theyve been spared the family melodrama.

Gregory dashed to the refuse chute, found his battered suitcase, and suited up. He mulled phoning for a taxi to his mothers, only to discoveroh, the ironythat his phone was with his mistress.

He trudged back, rang Valeries doorbell with the face of a man whod lost a wallet full of pounds, but before he could beg for her mobile, he blundered into the lift andfate being ever the cruel comedianwas promptly stuck on the eighth floor as well. The entire block had lost power. Lovely.

When at last the electricity flickered back to life and Gregory escaped his second imprisonment, it was too late; Valerie had already set off to work, and as luck would have it, he didnt have a key to her flat.

Resigned, he walked down the stairs. On the eighth floor, he bumped into Charlotte, suitcase in hand, waiting by the lift.

Got my phone? Gregory asked, trying for breezy and failing.

Yes, Charlotte squeaked, flustered. And your, er stuff.

They rode the lift together in awkward silence, a pair of suitcases between them. Moments later, separate taxis spirited them off in opposite directionsa modern English farce, if ever there was one.