Hello...I updated this eventually...just to warn you that I'm updating as I write...and Mum keeps going on about how I should be working (exams) not writing. So I'll do my best, but no promises of regular updates...
Prey: You probably guessed who the shadowy figure was...not rocket science. Anyway, I'm glad that you liked it
Strange Girl: Thank you very much. I haven't forgotton Backstage...I've just updated it!
Emma-J-Riddle: It's true, it is a little odd without music but this was an experiment. As I said to Strage Girl, I' haven't forgotten Backstage...it has just been updated
Anonymous (Clough): Yeah, POTO without music is wierd...but then I'm a wierd person lol! Thanks for reviewing
Chapter Two
The following week, Meg was ill so Christine went to the writers circle meeting alone. She sat against the wall watching as Carlotta once again read extracts from her book. Christine hadn't bothered even taking the working novel with her to share knowing that she would be subject to Carlotta's overacting. To be honest, Christine didn't even like Carlotta's work. And it aggravated her that she had to sit and listen to a novel being read to her when, if she was so desperate to read it, she could have bought it herself.
When Carlotta had finished, Mr. Firmin broke into loud applause and wiped a tear from his eye.
'That was so emotional and heartfelt Carlotta. Superb! That's the sort of thing that we should all be aspiring to.'
Christine looked darkly at Mr. Firmin. How would he know what people were like at writing, if he never listened to them? As Christine got up, Mr. Firmin called over to her.
'Hello, you over there.'
Christine turned to look at him.
'You don't mind putting the chairs away for me do you. Thanks.'
With those words, he rushed after Carlotta.
'Well at least I'm not invisible,' Christine mumbled to herself as she stacked the chairs.
The hall had emptied quickly as people left to get home. Christine was about to leave and glanced out of the window. To her horror, she saw that it was pouring with rain and she had no umbrella.
'A brilliant end to a brilliant day,' she muttered sarcastically.
To her shock, she discovered that she was answered.
'Surely it wasn't that bad,' a voice said.
'Who's there?' Christine called looking around her.
Suddenly a man stepped out of the shadows in front of her. He wore a long black leather coat and wore black leather gloves. However the most striking feature about him was the white mask that he wore on one side of his face which glimmered in the light. His sudden presence made Christine jump.
'I'm sorry, Miss. Daae. I didn't mean to scare you.'
'Who are you? How do you know me?' Christine said quickly.
All the lessons that she had as a teenager to not trust strange men were flooding back to her. The man chuckled.
'You don't need to be afraid of me,' he said. 'I wanted to return this. I believe that you left it here last week.'
The man reached into his coat pockets and removed a couple of sheets of crumpled paper and gave them to her. Christine glanced down at them and realised that it was the chapter of her novel that she had thrown aside.
'Thank you, but I threw this away,' she said.
'And I retrieved it,' the man said calmly. 'Do not be so quick to discard things like this. You're a very good writer.'
This time it was Christine's time to laugh.
'Not according to most people,' she said. 'Now excuse me but I have to go.'
Christine walked forward to push past the man but he held her arm and pulled her back.
'Let go of me,' she said quietly.
The man obliged.
'Now I don't know who you are or what you want but no-one makes me stay when I don't want to.'
The man smirked.
'Forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you. I just wanted to say that you shouldn't give up on your writing because someone who doesn't know good writing from bad won't listen to you read your work.'
'I'm sorry?'
'Mr. Firmin. I saw what happened last week. I, like you, had to listen to that bat read her rubbish.'
Christine couldn't help but giggle.
'So there is someone with the same opinions of Carlotta's writing as me.'
'I would not even call that writing,' the man said.
Christine smiled.
'Sorry, I didn't catch you name.'
The man looked at her as if he was studying her integrity.
'Erik,' he said finally, with a slight bow.
'I'm-'
'Christine, I know. I know most people in the writer's circle.'
'Oh, anyway. It was nice to meet to Erik. Now I have to get home.'
'Where are you going?'
'The train station. Why?'
'It's raining. You don't have an umbrella so let me escort you,' Erik said offering her his arm.
Christine smiled and took it, ducking under his black umbrella as they stepped outside.
As they reached the entrance to the Underground station, Erik turned to Christine.
'So I'll see you next week then?' he asked hopefully.
'If I bother to come. I don't know if I can spend other hour listening to Carlotta.'
'Please come.'
Christine looked at him suspiciously as he started to walk away.
'Why do you care so much?' she asked.
Erik turned to her and smirked.
'Because I want to know what happens next in your story,' he said before turning and continuing to walk away.
Christine stared and shook her head before walking into the station.
