Behind Closed Doors
On Friday morning, Christine arrived at the opera house to find a group of ballet girls gossiping loudly in the lobby, already clad in exercising clothes but not looking as though they were in any hurry to actually go and dance. One of them, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair, turned to her quickly.
"Mrs de Chagny, Mr Moncharmin is looking for you."
"Thank you…"
"Meg Giry." Meg smiled. She looked about the same age as Christine and seemed to have a permanent smile fixed on her face, lighting up her green eyes.
"Antoinette Giry's daughter?" Christine asked.
"Yes, that's me. Anyway, Carlotta's having a tantrum and demands to see you immediately." Meg shrugged. Christine breathed heavily and went to put her bag in her office before facing the Prima Donna. Just as she was emerging from her office, Richard came around the corner, looking deeply troubled.
"Mrs de Chagny, Miss Guidacelli is insisting that she speak with you."
"Mr Richard, you and Mr Moncharmin are paid to handle this sort of thing, so I don't have to." Christine reminded him sharply as she began to walk swiftly to the theatre, Richard at her heels.
"I know, Mrs de Chagny. Moncharmin and I have been trying to reason with her but she refuses to speak with us. She says that we are 'totally incompetent'. She wants you."
Carlotta Guidacelli was, generally, a rather agreeable person. She sang amazingly, could act perfectly, was stunningly beautiful and was hard-working, amongst other things. Christine held a great deal of respect for her talent, but the areas that that respect did not spread to were Carlotta's pride and paranoia. The singer seemed to be eternally in fear of being replaced as the leading soprano. In such a cut-throat business perhaps she had cause to be so paranoid, but it caused no end of trouble for the managers of the Opera Populaire. Christine had no intentions of getting rid of her, but Carlotta's mistrust never swayed.
Christine sighed and opened the door to the theatre. Everyone was stood around, watching and muttering as Carlotta shrieked at Moncharmin. She saw the manager enter and turned immediately.
"I refuse to work in these conditions! It is completely unreasonable!"
"And what conditions are those, Miss Guidacelli?" Christine said calmly. Carlotta's face was a deep hue of scarlet as she replied.
"I have just been informed that there are auditions being held for new cast members! I have been at this opera house for eight years! I will not be replaced! I have a contract!" Christine pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a dull pounding in her forehead. This sort of thing happened all too often. Gossip flew around the opera house, passing from dancers to stagehands to singers, growing more extravagant with each person. It was extremely tiresome, especially when she ended up being the one who had to deal with the consequences. She met Carlotta's eye.
"Miss Guidacelli, you are quite mistaken. Auditions are being held tomorrow for a couple of dancers, as two of them have left us. There are no changes to the cast and you are not going anywhere. And, as I have previously informed you, I would appreciate it if you took any concerns to Mr Moncharmin and Mr Richard from now on. It's what they're here for and I have far more important things to deal with right now."
Carlotta's glare went unnoticed as Christine turned to Mr Reyer and told him to carry on with the rehearsals. There was a stony silence as the blonde woman left the room before the gasps and whispers began. Carlotta merely stormed away to her dressing room, her auburn hair falling from its elaborate style and her brown eyes filled with rage.
It was not a good morning. For Christine, everything seemed to be going wrong at once. By lunchtime she had had to reorganise three interviews for the cast, knocked her coffee cup over a pile of freshly finished paperwork and crashed her computer twice. And then, as though to put a line under the whole sorry affair, she realised that she had forgotten her lunch.
Sighing, she reached for her bag, intending to cross the street to the café. The phone rang just as she was leaving and she paused to see who it was on the machine. Raoul's voice issued from the speaker and she picked it up quickly.
"I'm here."
"Good. Do you want a lift home?"
"I was planning to stay a bit late today, actually." Christine said, glancing at the paperwork that would now have to be redone.
"Oh, that's fine. Why don't I pick you up at around seven and take you to dinner somewhere?" He offered. Christine smiled.
"That sounds wonderful. I'll be able to tell you just how terrible my day has been."
They spoke for a couple more minutes and then Christine left her office. She walked swiftly down the steps outside the opera house, slipping her jacket off in the warm air. It was late spring and the sunshine was bordering on summer heat. The pavement was scattered with delicate pink petals, falling in a steady stream from a row of trees. Christine stood amongst them as she waited for a break in the cars. After a green Volkswagen had streamed past, she crossed the road and pushed open the glass door to the café. Several other people from the opera house were dotted around, eating and drinking as they discussed the morning's work. Christine went to the counter and examined the selection of sandwiches in the glass-fronted case. A dark-haired girl in an apron smiled helpfully at her.
"What can I get for you?"
"The chicken salad sandwiches and a bottle of water, please." Christine decided. Whilst everything was being packed into a white paper bag, she leant on the surface and watched the other customers silently.
"Hi Mrs de Chagny!" said a cheerful voice. Christine glanced around and saw Antoinette Giry's daughter beaming at her.
"Hello Miss Giry." She replied politely. The girl waved a hand carelessly.
"Oh, call me Meg. Everyone does. Want to join me and Jammes for lunch? We've just ordered."
"I'm afraid I can't, I've got a lot of work to catch up on." Christine replied, feeling a tiny stab of regret. She picked up her bag and offered a small smile. "I'll see you later today. I'll be dropping at rehearsals."
"Sure, no problem. See you." Meg trotted back to her friend. Christine carried her bag out of the shop, rather wishing that she had gone to sit with them. But, for some reason, she had never felt really comfortable amongst other people. She always felt as though she were invading and was unwanted, even if she had been invited.
Sat in her office, she slowly at the sandwich, washing mouthfuls down with water from the clear bottle. Her eyes were fixed on the computer screen as she finalised the advertising plans and emailed the company to organise it. Romeo and Juliet was the sixth production the company had put on since she had taken over as manager. All of them had been raging successes and she would not allow this to be anything less than that.
It took several hours of constant work before Christine finished enough work for her to feel not guilty about going to watch rehearsals for half an hour. There was still a considerable pile left, but she had enough time left to finish that before Raoul arrived.
She took a seat at the back of theatre and watched as Carlotta and Piangi played out the role of the two star-crossed lovers. Carlotta appeared to have overcome her outburst earlier in the day and was playing the role of the young lover with sweet passion. Christine watched her wistfully. Her movements were filled with astonishing grace and longing. The piece came to an end and Reyer signalled for them to continue onto the next act. Reluctantly, Christine made her unenthusiastic return to her office, only to find an envelope lying on her keyboard. She frowned at it. She had already sorted the mail for that day and didn't appreciate someone wandering into her office to deliver a late piece.
Christine turned on her playlist and let the calming notes of Chopin wash over her as she picked up the envelope. It was merely labelled For the Manager. The handwriting was scrawling and uncultured. Christine turned it over and lifted the flap, tearing the paper slightly as she did so. Inside was a single piece of paper with the words;
Dear Madame Manager
My apologies for disturbing you at this busy period in production. However, it has come to my notice that there are certain performers within this opera house who would do better to remain within their dressing rooms, rather than pollute the stage with their rages. Might I suggest that instead of adhering to Mademoiselle Guidacelli's demands, you try and behave as a manager should and treat her as an employee, rather than an employer?
Your Most Humble Servant
The note was unsigned. Christine stared at it, open-mouthed. Not only had someone waltzed into her office without permission, they had actually had the audacity to leave an extremely rude, anonymous note! Christine pursed her lips and pushed the note back into the envelope, tossing it to one side as she returned to her work, her mood noticeably poorer.
He watched as a young man strolled through the corridors of the opera house, heading towards the office of the young manageress. She had not been overly impressed with His note. To be perfectly honest, He hadn't expected her to be. He waited in His hiding place as the two exchanged a fond kiss and spoke briefly, as the young woman packed her bag and frowned, glancing around.
"What's wrong?" He heard the husband ask as she lifted papers on her desk.
"My keys… the ones for the offices and the storerooms. I can't find them." She said, pushing things around anxiously.
"Richard or Moncharmin probably picked them up and forgot to put them back. Come on, our reservations are for half past."
"This is just so typical of my day." The blonde woman sighed heavily. Her husband put an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the day.
"Leave it, Christine. Just put it behind you, come and have dinner and start tomorrow from scratch. You're coming in for the auditions, aren't you?"
The two disappeared and He waited until He was certain that they were gone before moving from His hideaway, a small bunch of keys clasped between long, bony fingers. He moved swiftly through the opera house, not bothering to dart out of the view of the security cameras. If anyone checked them they would find that the power had 'accidentally' been shorted and no images captured.
He stopped outside the file room He had seen the manager enter several times that week. After glancing at the door, He selected a key and slid it silently into the lock. It turned with a satisfying click and He opened the door. Several rows of steel filing cabinets greeted Him, their icy grey colour reflected by the dim light coming from a high-up window. He slipped along one until He reached a cabinet labelled Personnel.
The folders within proved to be rather interesting. The names, addresses, resumes and references of every member of staff, from that Carlotta woman to the caretakers. But He was only mildly interested in them. He had His eyes on one person in particular and hunted through until he found the right file.
Chagny, Christine de.
After all – one had to know whom one was dealing with.
The auditions for the new dancers were to start at midday. Christine arrived at the opera house at a quarter to eleven. Antoinette Giry was already in the dance studio with Meg, instructing her on her adagio. Christine paused in the doorway to watch the girl spin gracefully, her feet barely seeming to touch the floor. Giry caught sight of Christine and signalled for Meg to stop.
"Mrs de Chagny."
"I didn't realise you would be here so early." Christine commented. "I'll let you carry on."
"I was just warming up. I'm going to be leading the audition!" Meg said cheerfully. Giry eyed her.
"You will be an example of the training and perseverance required. Don't get too ahead of yourself."
Christine smiled slightly at their repartee, before saying that she would be in her office until the auditions started. Before she even left the room, Meg had begun to dance again, as though it were impossible for her not to. Christine walked slowly to her office, vaguely trying to think where she had left her keys. It was possible that Raoul had been right, and Richard or Moncharmin had the keys. However, it was also possible that she had left them lying around somewhere.
But when she reached her office and went to take off her jacket, the little bunch of keys was sitting quite clearly on her desk. Christine looked at them suspiciously for a moment. They hadn't been there yesterday. She had looked all over her desk. She sighed and picked them up.
"I'm going mad." She muttered, slipping them into her pocket and sitting down to do some work.
There were a dozen young women who appeared in hopeful nature for the auditions. He watched from an air vent. Not the most comfortable of places, but one that provided an ideal view. Whilst the building of the Opera Populaire was old, certain modern pieces had been added to improve the comfort of the structure. From His hiding place, He could survey the dancers, the Giry woman who was providing herself to be a most able ballet mistress and, standing in one corner, Mrs Christine de Chagny. He smirked slightly. Oh, yes. He knew all about this young woman. All of her personal details, everything He would need in order to bring His plan into reality.
He turned His attention to the dancers. They had finished warm up and were being called forward, one at a time to perform the same piece that the Giry girl had shown them in example just moments before. She had performed well, He noted. There was definite talent in those limbs and that mind. He would keep an eye on her.
Some of the dancers were, in a word, dreadful. Unable to overcome their nerves, they stumbled and fell, missing steps and notes. Others performed perfectly. He quickly narrowed it down to the two girls who would be chosen. One was a plain but graceful girl by the name of Cecile and the other was a limber young woman with straw-coloured hair by the name of Gabrielle. Both had performed not only with all the requirements but with an added enthusiasm and a prettiness of movements that secured them places. He noted, with amusement, that Giry had turned to discuss the results with the manager, who clearly had no idea of how the piece should be performed. However, Christine merely said,
"I trust your judgement completely, Mrs Giry."
Sure enough, Cecile and Gabrielle were asked to stay behind. Both looked nervous but hopeful and both, much to His chagrin, squealed like stuck pigs when they were informed that they were the two new employees of the Opera Populaire. The de Chagny woman waited until the dancers had all left before bidding good day to Antoinette Giry and locking the studios.
He followed her back to her office, where she picked up her bag and jacket, checked once again (rather amusingly in his opinion) that her keys were still in her pocket, and left. He slid from the vent onto the floor of her office and examined the contents of her desk before looking around the office. There was a mirror on one side of the room and He caught a glimpse of His reflection. He saw dark clothing, a long leather jacket, dark hair that reached his chin, a black mask that covered His entire face, leaving the mouth and chin exposed.
He sneered at the reflection and sat down in her chair, turning on her computer. He had the rest of the day and night free to explore every detail of Mrs de Chagny's life. Before He made His next move, He wanted to know just who He was dealing with.
A/N: My goodness, there's actually a plot beginning to unwind here! Thank you all for the lovely reviews; they were all very much appreciated. RADA, for those asking, is the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts.
Here is Erik. Enjoy him. I know, I know Erik is, technically, without hair. At least, I don't think he had hair in Leroux. But I really think it's tough on him to be horribly deformed AND bald. So I gave him some hair. More of him coming up, but I like his little mystery thing he's got going on here. So expect more of that.
Love and appreciation
Katie