Authors Note: Yes, it's been a very long time between posts but no, this story is not abandoned. We can't say how often updates will be, but we will try not to have any more breaks this long. Hopefully there are still people interested in reading anyway.
On another note, we need a new Beta reader, preferably someone who has read the whole of the story so far and will be prepared to take the time to offer constructive criticism. If you're interested, please send us a message.
The two women walked through winding passageways out of the cellars in a cold silence, Meg with her head bowed solemnly, her mother staring straight ahead. Neither wished to speak, the former afraid of the reaction of her elder if she did, the latter not entirely sure if she would be able to control her fury should she be forced to speak.
Both were relieved when the passage began to twist steeply upwards away from the lake, a warm light greeting them as they marched onwards, Madame Giry's hand firmly fixed around her daughter's. Sub-consciously they found themselves making for the stage, the routine of many long years, rather than their conscious mind, commanding their feet.
It came as a surprise then, when they found the backstage area completely deserted, except for one or two stage hands that appeared to be packing away scenery and costumes. Madame Giry decided to make use of the privacy to give the worried ballet girl a stern lecture.
"I have told you many times not to go below, Meg. Why do you ignore my orders and disappoint me so? Do you not think my words were for your benefit?"
"No mother, please. Do not think I was trying to dishonour you, really! I simply saw you disappearing and became curious. I am sorry, I allowed myself to get the better of me." The younger girl could do nothing but stare dejectedly at her feet, clearly ashamed at her actions.
"An acceptable explanation," the older woman's eyes still held the same level of sternness, "but please do not disobey me again, Meg, for you will not get away so lightly."
Before Meg could speak again, the pair were distracted by the low humming of voices coming from the front of the stage. Knotting her eyebrows, Madame Giry peered around the scenery to see a crowd beginning to gather at the orchestra pit. There was an excited chatter passing between everyone there, from the cleaners to the lead singers. The managers stood on a small table, holding their arms up in attempt to calm their unruly staff.
Taking a stiff hold on her daughter's wrist and with a look of deep suspicion on her face, she strode over to join them. Parting the crowd with her cane, she quickly found her way to the front of the ever growing ensemble to find the two men waiting to speak, stern looks upon their faces while their arms had lowered and their fingers intertwined and fiddled anxiously behind their backs. Gradually, an expectant silence passed across the hall and Monsieur Firmin began to speak,
"My good employees, owing to the success of last night's wonderful opera, it has been the decision of the management to grant every member of the company a two week period of free time. During this time, it is advisable that you stay with relatives as, for obvious reasons, the kitchen staff will not be on duty. However, there is a bed available here for all those who require it. That will be all. If there are any questions, please direct them to Monsieur Andre. Thank-you." he hastily removed himself from where he was standing, allowing an unsuspecting Monsieur Andre to be assaulted by confused members of the opera house. It was all the man could do to remain standing amongst the tidal wave of people which surrounded him.
One person, however, remained motionless. Madame Giry stood coldly, gravely surveying the chaos around her. Many of the singers cheered wildly, the maids threw down their mops and the young members of the ballet corps danced and span. The ballet mistress took all of this in silently and glided onto the stage without a word, before bringing her cane down sharply on the hollow surface. A loud echo surrounded the auditorium and the ballerinas hurriedly gathered round their teacher in respectful silence.
Meg ran to join them, her cheeks still coloured with shame as her mother addressed the group of them,
"Contrary to the seemingly popular opinion, and despite the fact that you are to have a break, however well earned, I fully expect all of you to continue to practice in your absence from my guidance." sweeping her cane round to include all of the girls, Madame Giry scrutinised each one of them in turn, silently amused as each girl shuffled her feet and sighed dejectedly. What funny creatures they were, to think that they would be able to uphold the high standards she always insisted upon, if they did not practice for a fortnight, "Yes girls," she continued, "I shall be putting every one of you through a vigorous test when we return. Do not disappoint me. Now," her tone softened, "all of you, please go and enjoy your break."
A joyful chatter broke out as the sea of pink in front of her disassembled. Satisfied that her girls would take her warnings seriously, her thoughts turned to more positive thoughts, such as where her and Meg could go for two weeks. Somewhere far from thee opera house, she was certain. Perhaps she would take Meg on holiday, somewhere North of Paris, to see the countryside. In fact, she knew of one person who had said they would always be more than happy to receive her as a visitor. Madame Giry smiled to herself, but that smile quickly faded.
What of Erik? What would he do?
"Absolutely preposterous," Erik paced back and forth along the shoreline of the lake, "How do you expect me, this, to go above in broad daylight?" he gestured at the mask, before resuming pacing, hands clenching and unclenching irritably at his side. His body was rigidly upright, towering over the petite ballet mistress. However, the woman standing in front of him had grown long used to this. She simply sighed, folded her arms and replied with a few sharp words,
"Erik, think reasonably about this, you cannot possibly stay hereā¦"
"Why?"
"How are you going to eat, to start with? You usually take food from the kitchens, but with no staff here, there will be no food," she finished with an air of defiance, a glint in her eye showing pleasure at the victory she thought was hers.
"Surely cooking cannot be so difficult?" came the ever stubborn reply, "I have learned many things Madame, I am sure cooking will be no more of an obstacle for me than any other skill I have perfected."
The ballet mistress sighed for the second time that visit. Of course he would not be willing to stay with her good sister, Marie, for the period of the vacation; she had expected that, but she had still held a thread of hope that maybe today would be different, today he would not be afraid to step from the shadows and be proud of whom he really was. Nevertheless, she had come prepared with a barrage of arguments ready to fire at him, in hope that they would collectively accomplish their mission.
"Please, Erik. You know as well as I do that you cannot stay here alone in your condition. Just look at what happened the other day, after Don Juan-."
"I advise you do not bring up that subject with me again Madame. And, in answer to your argument, I can and I will stay here."
"You are incorrigible! Tell me one, logical reason why you cannot stay with my sister and I. No, before you even complain that you cannot be seen, allow me to tell you that I have made arrangements so that it would be possible for you to travel and stay there without being seen at all, by anybody. Including my sister."
Erik opened his mouth as if to reply, then promptly closed it again. His head spun desperately around the room, trying to think of some way, any way, to get him out of what was sure to be Hell. His eyes rested on a sketch from many years ago, picturing a foal standing on a bed of straw. The dark hue of its coat stood out from the straw surrounding it, as it gazed out of the drawing with a suspicious look of mischief coming from a pair of large, soft eyes.
"Caesar," he stated, "No one will feed Caesar. Therefore I cannot possibly go and leave Caesar here alone."
"Yes, that would be quite a problem," she admitted. Erik began to look hopeful, but she continued, "So we shall have him come too. I am sure he would not object to walking behind a carriage. In fact, I feel he may take great pleasure in being able to experience a few new sights and smells. What a wonderful idea, Erik! I shall see you early tomorrow morning, you know where. Goodbye for now." The ballet mistress strode out of the room without another word, a rare smile spreading across her features. She left behind a stunned looking opera ghost, who was wondering exactly how he had come to lose an argument and exactly what he had let himself in for.
