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said something in reply.
    It was like watching a dumb-show. Colin seized his wife by the throat with one hand. He shook her side to side and lifted her a few inches off the ground. It was like seeing a lurcher shake a
rabbit. Then he dropped her back on her feet, turned around and marched out of the theatre the way he’d come in.
    It all happened in a second. Terri stood with her hands on her hips, looking at the door by which Colin had left. After a few moments she switched off the hoover. She bent to pick up some
cleaning cloths and a spray-polish, starting in on the mahogany woodwork that defined the edge of the stage. Whatever had just happened, it didn’t seem to faze her much.
    I was trying to think how I might slip out without her noticing. I didn’t want her to know that I’d just seen that small exhibition of marital bliss. But then she started singing
again. At first she sang softly, then after a few bars she let her voice ring out, just as she had the previous morning. Whoever was in her heart when she sang these songs, I couldn’t imagine
it had much to do with Colin. She was using her singing as antidote to her woes. It was self-medication.
    From behind me I heard the swing doors open and then I saw Luca Valletti padding down the carpeted aisle. Luca didn’t see me either. He had his make-up bag in one hand and his other arm
was flung wide. His face was illuminated with delight.
    ‘My darling girl!’ he shouted. ‘What is this song-bird I hear?’
    Terri stopped in mid-flight. As she turned to him in surprise her palm fluttered to her face in that already familiar gesture.
    Luca moved towards her in a skip. ‘Beautiful, my darling! Beautiful! Why you not on the stage with me? It’s a crime! We should make music! We should make the duet! It’s like
the Cinderella to see you here when you should be up there! Under the lights! It’s a songbird you are! A beautiful songbird.’
    Luca stood with his hand outstretched to her, smiling, his head tilted back and to the side, delighted.
    The emergency exit door cracked open. Colin came in. He seemed to be in no hurry and yet something in his step alarmed me. It had calm intention but his face was impassive. As he crossed in
front of the stage he was like a postman walking up to someone’s front door with a letter.
    He attacked the unprepared Luca and with his left hand around the Italian Tenor’s windpipe he pushed the singer up against the wall, sweeping him off the ground. He held his right fist
bunched and drawn back ready to strike. ‘Don’t you no never never never speak to my wife like that! No fuckin’ never! You don’t never you fuckin wop, you what? ? If I ever
you fuckin’ wop! If I ever!’
    I made out the words but it was more like hearing a dog barking rapidly. I got to my feet; not to intervene, because I was too afraid of Colin, but to let him know that there were other people
around witnessing this assault. The racket drew others from back stage. Amongst them was Tony, his face half plastered with orange stage make-up. ‘Put him down you dozy bugger!’ Tony
roared.
    Colin didn’t seem to hear any of it. He was in a zone of his own making. Tiny bubbles of saliva beaded his lips and yet his eyes were cold.
    ‘Colin,’ said Terri quietly, but firmly. ‘Colin.’
    Pinky Pardew appeared on the scene holding a carton of No. 6 cigarettes. ‘What the fuck is going on?’
    ‘Colin,’ Terri said again.
    Finally Colin released his grip on Luca’s windpipe. The Italian slid to the floor, gasping, holding his throat.
    Pinky was red in the face. ‘Enough. You don’t come near this theatre again. Nowhere near. Set foot in here again I’ll have you off the camp and you can pick up your cards.
I’m not having it.’
    ‘He was having a pop at my wife!’ Colin stated mildly. He pointed at Pinky. ‘What would you do if he had a pop at your wife?’ Colin looked around wildly. He pointed at
me. ‘What would you do if some wop