Another Me Read Free Page B

atmosphere. They would spend the rest of the night talking to each other without really saying anything, and never meeting each other’s eyes.
    I told her about the part and she made all the right noises.
    â€˜My daughter the star! Wait till I tell Drew’s mum that! At least it’s not just her wonderful son who can get star billing!’
    But she wasn’t really listening. Just as Dad hadn’t really listened. And later as I lay in bed I could hear them arguing softly in the living room. He still didn’t trust her. She still wasn’t happy.
    I cried myself to sleep. I so much wanted them to stay together. They were the two most wonderfulpeople in the whole world. Why couldn’t they be happy? If they split up, I didn’t know what I’d do. I’d be torn between them. I loved them both.
    Next morning, they had both gone off to work by the time I left the flat for school. I met old Mrs Brennan at the lift. She was our next-door neighbour. Nosy, but nice. She knew everything about everybody, but she was always doing people favours, always knitting for someone, or baking for them.
    â€˜That you off to school, honey?’ she said.
    Stupid question. I was in my uniform, hardly likely to be going to a pop concert. ‘Yes, Mrs Brennan,’ I said.
    â€˜My you’ve got bonny hair,’ she said, flicking my shiny bob with her hand. ‘It’s always that bouncy looking. Healthy. In this day and age you don’t often see healthy hair like that.’
    â€˜This day and age’ was Mrs Brennan’s favourite expression. She used it all the time.
    The lift arrived and as the doors creaked open I let Mrs Brennan step inside.
    â€˜Look at the state of me,’ she said, pointing to her reflection in the mirrored steel at the back of the lift. ‘You’d never think I used to have hair as bonny as yours.’
    I compared the two of us. Mrs Brennan with her tight curls like a steel scouring pad. And me, with my hair bouncy and shiny and blonde. The mirror made the lift look bigger. I was glad of that. It took away from the feeling that when the doors slid closed you might have been locked in a steel coffin.
    We were past the ninth floor when it began to shudder.
    â€˜Not again!’ Mrs Brennan moaned, and we watched as the lights above the doors tracked our progress to the ground. 9-7-5-. Suddenly, with one almighty shudder it came to an abrupt halt.
    â€˜It’s always this odd lift that breaks down.’
    She didn’t notice my smile. Only my reflection saw that, and it smiled too. I winked at myself. The odd lift. Such a funny expression, summing up perfectly the contraption that served the odd-numbered floors in our tower block. The lift
was
odd, and strange and weird. Breaking down, refusing to open doors, or close them. Shuddering and shaking. Always causing problems. Always trapping someone inside. As if it had a life of its own.
    â€˜They never have a problem with the even lift,’ Mrs Brennan went on. ‘See this lift … it’s going to kill somebody one of these days.’
    Cheery thought, Mrs Brennan, and I winked at my reflection again.
    Mrs Brennan suddenly stamped on the floor so hard she made me jump. It must have given the lift just the jolt it needed and once more it juddered into shaky life and continued its descent.
    â€˜Don’t want you to be late for school, Fay,’ she said, and grinned at me. She was wearing red lipstick that was spread beyond her mouth and had smudged on to her white false teeth. I tried to pretend I wasn’t looking at that.
    â€˜Oh, I won’t be late,’ I said.
    â€˜Aye, but you were quite right yesterday. You’re better using the stairs.’
    We had almost reached the ground floor.
    â€˜Yesterday?’
    â€˜Aye, don’t trust this blinking coffin of a thing. You’ve got young legs. Use the stairs.’
    â€˜I took the lift yesterday, Mrs