STRAIGHT UP

From the osteopath took a half hour, in the car, used because it was raining when time to go, to travel between the top of Colston to the corner of Deighton.
Waiting on Six the lift went past on the way up then stopped on the way down.
Door opened man standing against the back wall. He wore shades, a wollen hat, red jacket, his hands clasped in front, his feet a kimbo.
‘You going down?’ I said.
He nodded his head, barely perceptible.
‘I’m going up,’ I said, stayed waiting.
The door slid shut the lift went down.
Heard the beep as he got out then another two beeps as people got in.
It stopped going up, usually it doesn’t, surprised me.
The man and woman in there live on the same floor different flats. He in the one directly above mine, she, the other end of the block.
‘This lift’s a nightmare,’ I said.
‘Ay?’ She said. ‘What?’
‘This lift. Up and down, up and down.’
‘Yeh, it’s doing a lot of work, must be worn out,’ she said.
‘At least it’s stopped creaking,’ he said.
‘Yeh, used to get really loud past the tenth floor,’ she said.
‘Still does,’ he said. ‘woke me up four in the morning the other day.’
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Yeh, straight up.’