then pulled up sharply, skidding to a windmill-style halt, but not quickly enough. My viola case torpedoed straight into his lower stomach, narrowly missing his crotch, and he let out a loud, ‘Oof.’
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped as he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Oh, pants, pants, pants. They’d clearly stopped to look at one of the many black and white photos of previous productions on the wall.
Alison raised startled eyebrows. Oh, boy. A witness to my humiliation. What was I doing? I was like some crazy woman.
I lowered my viola case to the floor and, without thinking, grabbed his arm, my fingers slipping slightly on the silky fine wool of his suit jacket. ‘Are you OK? I’m really sorry. I was …’ Was what? Chasing him down like a hound on the scent of a fox?
I ducked down towards him, our heads brushing, as my other hand had reached towards his stomach with an automatic rub-it-better instinct. As soon as my fingers made contact with the smooth, soft cotton of his shirt, I could feel the warmth of his skin burning through. What was I doing? I snatched my hand away.
He lifted his head and looked up from underneath his floppy fringe. Our eyes met for a frisson-filled second before he slowly straightened, dredging up a pained smile. ‘That thing’s a lethal weapon. No one needs to worry about you in a dark alley, do they?’
The romcom moment withered and died as Alison shot me a furious glare and turned to him. ‘I am very sorry about this. Are you all right? I can only apologise for Miss Smith’s clumsiness.’
‘It was an accident.’ He rubbed at his stomach in a tentative way that suggested that he was in a lot more pain than he was prepared to admit. Trying to be polite.
‘Can I get you a glass of water or something?’ I asked. Because that was really going to help. My brain appeared to have taken temporary leave of absence.
‘I think I’ll be all right,’ he said gravely, although there was that slight twitch to his mouth.
I must have looked pretty mad, standing there with my mouth open, saying nothing.
His eyes twinkled, with amusement or pity – I couldn’t tell which. It was the one time in my life that I really did pray for a large hole to open up at my feet and swallow me down whole.
He was still smiling and my heart was doing some kind of hippity-hoppity dance in my chest like a demented rabbit.
‘Where were you going in such a hurry?’ snapped Alison. Honestly, I felt like I was back at school.
‘Er … just … er … heading to the Ladies. Occupational hazard.’
Oh, dear God, where had that come from? Seriously, that was the best I could come up with? And occupational hazard? Too much information, Viola! He did not need to know how long I’d sat cross-legged in a rehearsal.
Now Alison did stare. Hardly surprising; she knew as well as I did that the nearest Ladies was back the other way.
‘Right, must be off,’ I said in ridiculously jolly hockey stick tones. ‘Again, I’m really sorry. I hope I haven’t done too much damage.’ And then I looked down at his stomach and crotch.
Oops. I raised my head, catching the quick amused lift of his eyebrow.
‘I think I’ll survive. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you again but …’ He winced.
‘OK, then.’ I walked off down the corridor in completely the wrong direction, clutching my viola case, and slipped through the fire doors to the back stairs and sank onto the fifth step – hoping they didn’t decide to take the stairs. I was going to have to wait until they’d gone to double back to the Ladies and my locker. What had I been thinking?
‘Hey,’ I said, collapsing into a chair Tilly had saved me at a table in the canteen, along with Leonie, who worked in Wardrobe.
‘How’s your cheek?’ asked Tilly, reaching out and grabbing my chin. ‘The swelling has definitely gone down and the foundation has held. Eye make-up still looks good too.’
‘Yeah, I thought you were looking glam today,’ chipped in Leonie. ‘Apart from the lump on the side of your face.’
‘Thanks. Tilly told me you could barely see it.’
‘Tilly tells lies,’ said Leonie calmly.
‘It doesn’t look as bad as it did,’ said Tilly, shooting an evil glare at Leonie, who simply grinned; she had a habit of saying what she thought. ‘Besides, everyone will be too busy looking at her eyes; don’t they look great?’
Leonie tilted her head. ‘Actually, they do.’
I batted my eyelashes at both of them.
‘It made me feel better. How did your wig-fitting go?’ I asked, reluctant to volunteer any information about my morning. The embarrassment of charging into a man who’d come closest to pricking my interest in a long time was still making me cringe.
‘The wig-fitting went really well,’ said Tilly, a little too enthusiastically. ‘Hardly any adjustments and I took lots of photos.’
Leonie and I exchanged amused looks.
‘So what went wrong?’ I asked.
‘Nothing.’ Tilly’s high pitched denial countered her claim.
‘What did she do?’ I asked Leonie with a laugh. Tilly was hopeless with anything technological.
Leonie rolled her eyes. ‘This time it’s what she didn’t do. I had to upload the pictures on the system.’
‘I’m getting better.’ Tilly grinned.
‘No, you’re not,’ said Leonie.
I laughed at both of them. ‘What does Marcus think?’
‘He’s given up. He loves me just the way I am,’ said Tilly with a touch of smugness as she picked up her coffee. The story of how she and Marcus had got together was legendary in the building. We weren’t particular friends at the time but the story, with its elements of scandal – Tilly had been suspended for a time – had rocked the Opera House last December.
Leonie scowled at her. ‘You know you make the rest of us a bit sick.’
‘I know. Jeanie keeps telling me,’ said Tilly, pushing her hair back, her bangles jingling as she gave us both another totally self-satisfied grin. ‘But I think Fred’s pretty keen, isn’t he?’
Leonie beamed. ‘Yes.’
‘Oh, shut up the pair of you,’ I muttered, tutting. ‘I haven’t had so much as a sniff of a date in ages. And the last one was such a disaster I’m thinking about declaring myself a date-free zone.’
Tilly laughed. ‘What about that solicitor who wanted to know if you’d had any injuries at work? And how much your hands were worth?’
I shuddered. ‘Yes. I am never going out with a solicitor again.’
They both laughed and then I noticed someone stalking her way through the tables. ‘Oh, God.’ I ducked my head. ‘Don’t let her see me.’
Tilly looked over her shoulder and then turned back. ‘She loves me,’ she said with all the smug self-righteousness of someone who had been wronged and subsequently exonerated and now had the upper hand.
‘Ah, Viola, isn’t it? I wanted to catch up with you.’ Alison Kreufeld pulled up a chair, to everyone’s astonishment, and sat down.
‘Look, I’m really sorry. Was he OK? He’s not going to sue or anything, is he?’
‘I’m sure he won’t.’ She smiled as if I’d just played right into her hands. ‘Although you might be able to help there. I wanted to talk to you about our outreach programmes.’
I relaxed a little.
‘You