Sarah laughed. “Arch enemy. You make it sound like a comic book. Listen, I’m going. I have to talk to Milan.”
“Stay away from him.” Lydia had raised her voice and a few of the smokers looked over.
“You still love him, don’t you? Aww. Cute. Bye-bye, then. Duty calls.”
She turned to the stage door. Lydia lunged at her.
“You bitch!”
Some of the smokers whistled and laughed. Lydia, mortified but fired up with anger, stood in front of Sarah so that she couldn’t pass.
“If you want to ruin his life, you’ll have to do it over my dead body.”
“Listen, sweetheart,” said Sarah. “Milan only wanted me because he knew I was Hackmeyer’s. That’s the kind of man he is. Why on earth would you want to defend him?”
“He’s having a horrible year. He’s lost his mother and a lover and he’s fighting an illness that could destroy him. Leave him alone. Or, if you can’t, at least let him have his moment in the sun.”
“Moment in the sun? How poetic. I hope you two get back together, I really do. I’ll miss him in a way. He’s a wonder in the sack. But he doesn’t get to have the stellar solo career, because he doesn’t bloody deserve it. Now get out of my way before I…”
She tried to shove Lydia aside, but Lydia fought her, pushing her backwards.
Sarah let out a little scream of frustration and grabbed at Lydia’s hair. Lydia retaliated with a volley of slaps. Dimly she could hear the smokers cheering, though a couple of them rushed forward in an attempt to intervene. She grappled with Sarah, desperate to hold on to her, until the pair of them fell to the ground. The paving slabs, so hard beneath her, made harsh contact with Lydia’s pelvis and she gasped, the pain hindering her ability to defend herself from Sarah’s vengeful fingernails.
“I’m going to talk to him now,” gloated the harpist, her face right in Lydia’s.
Lydia screamed, “No!” Then she was released from the mint-smelling hot breath and the fingers digging into her collarbone.
“What on earth is happening here?” Von Ritter hauled Sarah to her feet, then held out his hand to Lydia. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
“It was her,” they both started, but von Ritter silenced them with a furious shake of the head.
“I don’t want to know. Both of you have behaved in an appallingly unprofessional manner and it will need to be addressed. But not now, because the call to go on stage has already gone out and you need to get your asses in there. Now!”
He clapped his hands and pointed inside.
Sarah shot Lydia one last dirty look and slunk through the stage door, trying to repair her hair as she went.
“We need to talk,” said von Ritter quietly, taking Lydia’s elbow and walking with her. “Was that about me?”
“No,” said Lydia, still angry with him. “It was about Milan.”
He looked as if he’d been slapped.
“Oh, well,” he said, nudging her away in the direction of the wings. “I probably deserved that. Come to me straight after the concert.”
“I might. Or I might not.” Lydia fired her parting shot and left him running a hand through his hair while she sought her violin case in a fluster.
Everyone else was on stage—everyone except von Ritter and Milan, who were to come out together, the twin stars of the show.
Retrieving her instrument from the Green Room, she ran straight into Milan, who was drinking a glass of water and trying to look composed.
“Oh. Milan.” She picked up her violin case.
He made a move towards her.
“Lydia.” His voice was warm and yearning.
At least Sarah hadn’t had the chance to get to him yet.