‘Where the hell did he go?’ Carlos demanded.
Trudy barely heard the words. She was clutching Bill, trying to make sense of what had happened. One moment he had been saving her from the terrifying wrath of the Smurf. The next he was lying on the floor, a knife protruding from his chest and a pool of obscenely dark blood staining his chef’s whites. His mouth worked soundlessly and whenever he tried to make a sound he looked to be in a world of pain.
‘Shit!’ The producer pushed her to one side as he took charge of Bill. ‘Get me an ambulance,’ he called.
Trudy had no idea who he was talking to but she could hear the thrum of people eagerly rushing to obey his instructions.
‘I want the police here too. Lock down the studio because the bastard who did this isn’t getting out of here without a fight.’
She flinched from the mention of fighting. Hadn’t there been enough violence already? Timidly she tried to get closer to Bill but the producer pushed her back.
‘Let me deal with this,’ he said carefully. ‘I’ve got first-aid training. I know what I’m doing.’
‘It looks serious,’ she whispered.
The producer glanced at Bill’s still body. ‘I think it is serious. But I’ll need you to take a step back so I can look after him, OK?’
Trudy nodded. She allowed herself to be held by Tom, who was both trembling and gushing sympathy and shock. She didn’t want to watch the producer loosening Bill’s clothes while holding the handle of the blade in place.
She could see Bill’s face, now grey and contorted with pain.
‘That ambulance better be on its way,’ the producer called. ‘And have a runner at the stage door to let them in and get them up here. Security, keep the audience in their seats and make sure everyone is safe. Has anyone found the bastard that did this?’
Trudy bit back a sob of desperation and tried to go to Bill’s side.
Tom said, ‘Shush,’ even though she didn’t think she’d said anything. He told her to leave the producer to treat Bill. He held her in his arms until a team of paramedics burst on to the stage, took over from the producer and hurried Bill away. Then Carlos was grabbing her hand and telling her that she was coming in his car to the hospital to wait and see how Bill fared.
‘The police might want to talk to you,’ the producer said.
Because Tom had said he would be coming to the hospital with them too, Trudy didn’t know which of them the producer meant. She guessed he meant all of them. They had all been witnesses to the attack.
‘The police can find us easy enough,’ Carlos said.
Fifteen minutes later they were in the hospital. A receptionist told them Bill was in surgery. It was all the information they had. After the frantic, panicked rush to get to the hospital the news that they would now have to wait was almost as brutal as the assault that Bill had suffered. The three of them were escorted to an empty waiting area and left to sit in nervous silence.
Harvey called and said he was collecting Charlotte and they would be there within the hour. Trudy then got a call from Charlotte promising her that she would be there as soon as she could manage. There were calls from Imogen, Daryl and Mark before she decided to turn her phone off.
In the waiting room Tom offered reassuring platitudes while Carlos repeatedly crossed himself and mumbled what sounded like prayers. Trudy could feel herself growing giddy from hearing too many promises that Bill would be OK and everything would be well. She was on the verge of screaming hysterically and she knew she had to get away from Tom and Carlos before she said something unforgivable. She stumbled away from her colleagues, saying she was looking for a coffee machine.
Neither of them bothered to look up. Clearly both of them were still stunned by what had happened. Trudy gave a watery smile, which neither man noticed, and staggered helplessly down a corridor.
There were signs for the coffee machine and she had turned two corners before it came into sight. She was stumbling past a vaguely familiar figure as she patted her pockets in search of change. She didn’t know if she wanted a coffee but she supposed it would be good to have something to hold in her hand, to stop her fingers twisting nervously together.
‘You bitch,’ Gemma spat.
She slapped Trudy across the face.
The blow caught Trudy off guard. She stared at the woman with bewilderment and hurt. Uneasily, she realised she was alone with Gemma in an empty stretch of the corridor. Gemma’s eyes shone with livid ferocity. She looked angry to the point of being manic.
‘Why have you called the police on Donny?’ Gemma demanded. ‘Don’t you ever give him a break?’
Trudy considered the woman with disbelief. ‘Donny just stabbed Bill.’
‘Stabbed.’ Gemma sniffed and made a face. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing more than a scratch.’
‘He’s in the operating theatre now,’ Trudy gasped.
Gemma shook her head. Her nostrils curled with confident disdain as she sneered at Trudy. ‘You’re making that up. You’re such a drama queen.’
Trudy sighed and pushed past Gemma so she could get to the coffee machine. Her cheek stung where she had been slapped but she paid it no attention. She simply wanted to get a cup of coffee to hold and then return to the waiting room and Carlos and Tom.
‘Believe what you want to believe, Gemma,’ she muttered. ‘You’ve been believing Donny’s lies for so long I’d be surprised if you recognised the truth when you heard it.’
She studied the coffee machine, trying to make sense of the flavours and prices through the tears that now filled her eyes. The stinging pain in her cheek only made her think of Bill and the pleasure he could bestow when he made her flesh sting. And, as soon as her thoughts turned to Bill, the tears became more insistent and began to pour down her cheeks.
A voice from beside the coffee machine whispered, ‘You do know this is all your fault, don’t you?’
She wiped the back of her wrist against her eyes and was amazed to see Donny standing beside the machine.