kisses.’ There was a thought. A highly inappropriate thought given the circumstances. He caught her eye again and this time she looked away, two red spots blooming on her cheeks. He reached for an excuse to make her smile again because he liked it when she did that. ‘Just checking my French. For a minute I thought you said bison. And I wondered if it was normal in France for a boyfriend to bring buffalo along to a date.’
‘Buffalo are great on dates, don’t you do that in England? You’re all so weird over there. Yes, bisous means kisses.’ As she laughed, her gaze settled on his mouth and that stoked something deep in his gut. Then she was back to eye contact again. ‘Your French is good.’
‘I’m very rusty, it’s been a long time since I was in France.’ Not long enough. ‘Your English is far better.’
‘My mother is English. French father.’ She drained the luminous orange drink and put the glass on the bar. ‘Okay, Monsieur Knight-in-Shining-Armour, that’s me done. Time for bed, I’m heading up to my room. Thanks again for rescuing me when I didn’t need it.’
‘Hey, any time you don’t need rescuing, I’m your guy. I’ll walk with you to the lift to make sure he’s gone.’ He kept a healthy distance but caught the fresh scent of coconut and hibiscus. She smelt good. She looked good. She made him laugh. In another life he might have made a move. But not tonight. She looked too sweet to want what he could give her; which was a one-night stand and nothing more.
As they reached the lift she nodded goodbye politely to him, stopped and pressed the button and he headed towards the stairwell door. Which didn’t move when he pushed it. He pushed again. No. No movement. He heaved his right shoulder against it, but no. ‘Strange. It can’t be locked. It’s a fire door.’
‘Maybe there’s something leaning against it on the other side? Or perhaps it’s jammed?’ The woman called to him. ‘The lift’s on its way down. Hop in.’
‘No, thank you.’ He tried the shoulder heave again. No dice.
A ping. ‘Quick. Going up. Come on.’ She ran over, tugged his hand. Tugged again and laughed. That soft sound had his gut contracting. He gave one last long look at the closed fire exit door and shrugged. It was just an elevator. It would be a matter of seconds, a minute at most, and he’d be on his way to bed.
It was just an ancient elevator with one of those concertina doors that he’d seen in black and white movies. As he tugged the heavy lattice across she asked him, ‘Floor?’
He controlled his raging heartbeat. It was just a damned elevator. ‘Eleven. Please.’
‘Oh. Same.’ Her gaze snagged his and she smiled as if there was some meaning there. ‘Funny coincidence.’
He didn’t believe in coincidences. ‘At least there isn’t any muzak playing, like the Beatles on strings or some such crime against our eardrums.’
Filling his lungs with as much oxygen as he could, he fixed his eye on the green LED display.
‘Lifts aren’t your thing?’ There was laughter in her voice. ‘Or is it the music you don’t like?’
‘I prefer stairs, that’s all.’ He couldn’t be in here and do small talk and breathe all at the same time.
Floor One.
She tapped her foot. She was wearing flat black shoes with a little bow on the front. Like something a ballerina would have. It was amazing to see something so dainty. Most of the women he’d spent time with over the last few years had worn hiking boots or had bare feet. It was weird being here with no dust, and with regular things like reliable electricity and running water, clean clothes. Elegant shoes. A beautiful woman who smelt of fruit and flowers instead of dry dust and sweat. A body that looked fit from exercise but not too much. Just enough curves that in that fictional other life where he’d consider making a move, he’d relish exploring. Her hair shone and was shot through with wisps of gold and light.
And, man, he really needed to get to floor eleven before he got carried away on pointless poetics which were so unlike him he forced himself to do a quick reality check.
France. Lift. Tomorrow. Which was enough to send any wayward thoughts scuttling back to where they’d come from.
Floor Two
‘So why is a knight in Marseille? Business? Holiday?’ she asked, her smile refreshingly open and unguarded.
‘Business.’ If he said out loud what he was here for it might actually make it real, and he wanted to live in the blissful pretence that he wasn’t going to set foot on a ship tomorrow and meet up with a ghost from years ago. ‘You?’
Floor Three
‘An adventure, actually.’ Her eyes lit up, her dark brown irises dilating a little. Whatever she was going to do in Marseille, she was certainly looking forward to it.
Floor Four
‘Ah, yes. How did it go? Freedom, adventure, excitement?’
‘Oh! You heard me?’ She pressed her lips together and chuckled again.
Floor Five
He nodded. ‘It sounds intriguing. Have you just been released from prison or something?’
Her hand hovered over her mouth. ‘I can see how it could have sounded like that. Yes, I’m a mysterious, elusive thief who’s just escaped from gaol.’
‘If you were elusive you wouldn’t be in gaol, or telling me about it.’ She was good value, that was for sure. A woman who didn’t take herself too seriously. A delicious distraction.
‘Good point—Oh!’ The elevator jerked sharply and she grabbed his arm to steady herself. There was a weird thumping sound. The gate rattled. A bump. Another jerk. Then...nothing. No sound. No movement. Nothing.
Floor Six
Kind of. Maybe? Who knew? Just an elevator. Breathe.
Her hand was still on his arm and he realised he didn’t want her to let go, not just yet. She turned her face up to him, eyes still lit by excitement. ‘A power outage? Must be the storm. It happens. In France.’
‘It happens everywhere.’ So much for reliable electricity. And why she was excited by this he couldn’t fathom.
‘At least the light is still on, that’s something.’ But her smile faded as the bulb flickered and fizzed and died. ‘Wait, wait...damn.’
Was it him or was it hard to breathe right now?
‘Hang on.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket and flicked on the torch. An eerie glow lit the tiny space and he fought back the memories that still walked through his dreams.
Broken walls, bare wires, the weight and the pain.
Her grip on his arm was a little tighter now. Maybe she had a thing about lifts. He needed to show her that it would be fine. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes, trying to ignore the little fizz of electricity that shot over his skin at
