He turned to stare at her as if he didn’t recognise her.
“What the fuck for?” he said eventually.
“I can’t work with you.”
“You won’t have to.”
“Milan,” said Lydia, fearful of a row. “Leave it.”
“Why? She wants to start something with me. I can finish it here and now. I’m not going back to London, so you don’t have to worry.”
“What?” Mary-Ann stared from Milan to Lydia and back again.
“
I’m staying in Prague. It’s my home.”
“I see. Fine.” Mary-Ann sounded bemused, pulling her spectacles down over the bridge of her nose. “And that’s okay with you, is it, Lydia?”
Lydia nodded, avoiding the conductor’s piercing gaze.
“Really? I’m surprised. I thought you and Milan?”
“You thought right,” interrupted Milan, with a supercilious curl of the lips.
Lydia cringed and waited for Mary-Ann to make the connection.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re staying with him? Lydia! No! What about your career? Your family? Your life?”
“I can have a life here,” insisted Lydia. “I want a life here. With Milan.”
“He’ll lead you a dog’s life,” said Mary-Ann vehemently. “You must see that.”
“You can go now,” said Milan, waving a forceful hand. “You know the score. You’re not needed here. Go back to London and enjoy your career with the WSO. Thanks for the memories, goodnight and good luck.”
“Lydia,” said Mary-Ann, holding her eyes for a desperate moment before giving up and stalking off, head shaking from side to side.
“It would be nice, just once, to have somebody approve of our relationship,” sighed Lydia.
“My mother does,” said Milan. He checked his watch again, huffing.
Another doorman ran up to the Green Room door and conferred with his colleague in rapid Czech.
Milan, listening in to their conversation, relayed the gist of it to Lydia.
“Ah, I see why she might be late. Something has happened outside the hall and they have blocked the road. Police…ambulances…someone pushed in the road, hit by a tram.” He shook his head, tutting. “Sounds bad.”
“Oh, dear.” Lydia swallowed down an impulse to panic. “Can you ask them about it? Ask if that might have delayed your mother?”
“Okay.” He interrupted the conversation and Lydia waited, breath bated, until Milan was able to translate. She watched his face and his upper body, noted the stiffening of his shoulders and the shadow that chased across his eyes. He seemed to pause for breath before ending the exchange.
“I want to go and look,” he muttered to Lydia. “They say an elderly lady. I just need to be sure… Come with me.”
The hand that clutched hers was clammy and the feet that span her down the stairs to the stage door almost mis-stepped in their haste.
Outside, it was dark now, and flashing lights drew all eyes over towards the section of road near the bridge. Milan ran with Lydia across the grass towards the scene of the accident. The tram stood still on its tracks, its passengers milling, some of them with minor injuries, well back from the barricades.
“Who is hurt?” asked Lydia, hoping some English speakers might have witnessed the accident.