Prologue
There were four of us in the car that night: my mother, her brother-in law Martin Daae from Sweden, my cousin Christine and myself. We were on our way home from the concert hall, where Martin had performed as a soloist in Mendelssohn's violin concerto with the city symphony orchestra. It was a rainy Thursday evening in late February, just about a month before Christine and I were to audition for music college, she as a singer, I as a dancer. As I remember it, this was the last night all of us were happy. It was the last night of that time span we would late refer to as "before it happened".
I don't really have any recollection of that other car hitting us. It was only later that I could piece together the puzzle and make sense of what had occurred. Apparently, the left side of the car had been hit by a drunk driver who was speeding past a red light. Martin, who was in the driver's seat, was severely injured and died before the ambulance arrived. I got away with a concussion and a broken leg. My mother and Christine both had minor physical injuries, but Christine was never the same after having watched her father bleed to death.
The weeks that followed were very difficult for all of us, especially Christine. I knew she was heartbroken at the death of her father - I have never seen a parent and child as close as those two were. Her mother, my aunt, had died shortly after Christine was born twenty-one years ago, and since then, her father had taken care of her on his own, treating her like a princess, making sure she had all she could ever wish for. It was he who had encouraged her to sing, and she did indeed have a remarkable soprano voice. However, after the accident she seemed to lose all interest in singing. It was probably too painful for her.
As for me, I found out my leg injury was such that I could no longer expect a future as a professional dancer. This was an enormous disappointment to me, especially since I had dreamt of being a ballet dancer ever since my first lesson when I was four. Being the daughter of former prima ballerina Marie Giry, I was eager to live up to my name, and my mother was a demanding teacher. Now, sixteen years of hard work seemed in vain. Yet, I couldn't allow myself to speak about this, since I felt it would have come across as selfish and ungrateful. I reminded myself I was lucky to be alive.
The only one to keep a cool head during all this turmoil was my mother. It was only what could be expected of her - she was a realist and very familiar with the hardships of life, after having fallen in love with my father only to be abandoned by him when it was discovered she was pregnant. Now, she made all the arrangements for Martin Daae's funeral, while simultaneously looking after Christine and me the only way she knew how - gently but practically, without a trace of sentimentality. She convinced Christine to stay here in France and go through with the auditions for music college in our home town, and suggested to me that I might apply for the music education program, so that I would be able to earn my living as a teacher. We both did what she said, more to humour her than anything else.
In May, Christine and I got our acceptance letters from the college. Christine's performance at the audition hadn't been outstanding, but it had been good enough. I had passed the entrance tests, and since my grades from high school were decent, I was offered a place as a major in music education. Mother offered Christine to stay with us during the first year of college, since she didn't know many people in France, and I was enthusiastic at the idea - my cousin and I had always got along well.
School was to start in September. Slowly, it seemed like things might calm down and settle into a new kind of "normal" state. But, as it later turned out, this was only the beginning. The accident had left both Christine and me scarred, vulnerable and open to suggestion and manipulation. That is the only way I can explain what happened to Christine, and why I didn't do what I could to prevent it.
My name is Meg Giry. You do not know me, and in the eyes of the world, I played no part in the disaster I am about to relate. But I can tell you things that you never heard on the news, things that weren't in the police report or even in the tabloids. Because I was there. I saw it happen. And I knew Erik.