A/N For those of you gagging for this since I posted ch 10...I hope I have done this justice. I had intended a little more at the end of this but it ended where it needed to and the rest will follow in ch 12. Enjoy folks! Thanks again for the amazing reviews which continue to inspire me expecially when I hit a Tuesday wall.

Chapter 11

It was the strangest letter she had ever sat down to write for the simple fact she could not remember ever writing to her mother. They had quite simply never been apart for it to become necessary. Meg had never been anywhere away from the Populaire, her mother being her only living relative so there was really nowhere for her to go to. In the off season when all of the other performers had a few weeks reprieve, she and her mother had stayed behind because as the ballet mistress she still had a dormitory full of charges with nowhere to go either. She was their keeper until adulthood, many of them orphans. Consequently her mother had never in her memory had a holiday or spent a day away from the opera house. Perhaps she could come and visit someday?

Chere Maman

I am so sorry I have not written sooner but so much has been happening here. Let me say first (as I know you will be beside yourself with worry) that I am fine, more than fine as is your old friend "Eleanore". After two entire days on a train (and let me tell you that I am not eager to repeat that experience) we finally reached our destination. You will never guess Maman...Venice! I know that you will appreciate how it is the perfect place for her to be. She has been at times both a handful and a delight, alternately frustrating and surprising me. She is very hard work but like all challenges it has its rewards. We have found somewhere to live, just above a lovely little pastry shop (you know my penchant for all things sweet and sticky!) and the family that runs it have become our landlords and hopefully, friends.

Marcello and his lovely wife Rosa have three children; two girls Elena who is a few years older than me and getting married soon and Isabella who is six. We have not met either yet but if they are anything like their brother in character they will be delightful. The son, Federico is twenty four and works for the family business – he even has a gondola! Yesterday he brought me fresh peaches from the early market and Maman, you have never tasted anything like them; pure sunshine! I think perhaps his mama would quite like for me to like him if you get my meaning but I am sure it is nothing but Federico being his usual friendly self.

Eleanore is coping well I think with being out and about once more, although still apprehensive in crowds. She still wears her veil everywhere but if you can believe it (which I know you will not) as recently as yesterday has begun to leave her head uncovered around me at least until after breakfast. It was a very big step for her to take considering what happened to her – she uses that veil like armour. But what a joy to be able to see someone's face when they speak to you! She has been revelling in all things Venetian (as you can imagine!) and we have been out sightseeing a few times already. I did not realise just how knowledgeable she is about art and architecture and I learn a little more every day. I, in turn teach her a little about life and not getting one's own way all the time! Whether your old friend will ever fully recover from her malaise is uncertain but so far I believe I am helping. She has suffered such a terrible trauma to say nothing of the life she has led that I cannot even imagine how difficult it is for her to readjust to living again. At this point I think you could say we have become friends although I still find moments where I could quite happily smother her for being her impossible self.

Please write me back and tell me all about how things are back in Paris. Have they started renovations yet? Oh and how is dear Christine? The poor thing must be quite overcome what with everything that has happened, although I dare say the prospect of her upcoming nuptials should serve to distract her admirably and her Viscomte will look after her as on one else can. She will think I have abandoned her no doubt but I am sure you will explain that your friend had a more pressing need of me. If you see her please hug her for me and let her know I think of her often.

I must finish now but I promise to write again soon as it is never dull in Venice so I shall have lots of adventures to impart! Pray that Eleanore behaves and that I remain your sane (and sure to be sainted!) daughter...

Votre fille aimante,

Meg

Just as Meg was waiting for the ink to dry in her bedroom, Erik was lifting his one true love out of her case just inside the balcony doors. This was long overdue and his hands shook with nerves at the thought of giving her a voice once more. This would be her first time to sing in Venice and he was conscious of making it a memory worth keeping. Mozart would suffice; some of the child prodigy's earliest sonatas would help his fingers loosen and being like scales to him would require no effort at all. He could just enjoy her, the feel of her weight resting on his shoulder, tucked snugly under his chin and cradled gently in the heel of his left hand. Taking a deep breath and lifting the bow gracefully in his right hand he began to conjure the old magic she always made with him, eyes falling closed as he let his soul open to her. His heart thumped a furious beat in his chest, the ecstasy she brought him taking over his senses and bringing him such sublime relief that he could not believe he had held out for so long. His finger memory, a little rusty at first, came surging back with each phrase until he had completely lost himself in her world once more, oblivious to all but the mistress in his arms. `

Oh the bliss of feeling almost whole again...and in such a place as this! With each sonata, every note the sceptre in his heart which had curiously lost its sharp stinging point over the past weeks, liquefied and flowed like a river through his fingertips and out into the air, dissipating like mist in the warm light. Slowly and steadily it flowed until Erik could feel his heartbeat return to a steady soothing rhythm. It was almost pleasurable; unhurried like a gradual bloodletting as opposed to the violent lancing he would have experienced on the organ. This was...better, more humane to all concerned.

"S...Signore Erik? Signorina Meg? Hello?..."

A small hesitant voice pulled Erik out of his all encompassing trance and he immediately stopped playing. There stood, out on the second to last step, a little olive skinned child with the hugest chocolate eyes he had ever seen. He panicked, thinking a million things all at once...where is Meg? Are my bandages still in place? Did she hear me? Have I frightened her?

He laid the violin back in its case and stood to approach the door, realisation dawning at the last moment as to her identity. " Buongiorno...Signorina Isabella?"

The little chocolate-eyed girl stuck her plump hand straight out for him to take and introduced herself just as an adult would. "Bella if you please. Isabella is too big for me and I am only six. Are you Signore Erik?" She was a little hesitant with her words he noticed, staring at her sandal clad feet, still having not moved from her position just short of the balcony. He bent down and held his hand out to her completely swallowing her tiny fingers in his. Goodness, she was like a little doll, so tiny and perfect but breathing and speaking. He noticed her twisting her right foot in anticipation of an invitation he supposed and watched as her head gradually rose to look up at him. Oh please no. Not a little child! She should never have to see this. Erik felt sick to his stomach and closed his eyes to the horror her face was sure to hold even thought he knew she would only see bandages. He felt her move towards him, hand still buried in his.

Slowly he nodded at her, "Yes, I am and I am pleased to meet you...Bella." She may never be pleased to meet anyone ever again thanks to him.

"I heard you playing when I was in the kitchen with Papa...he loved it! Can I see it? Your violin? I have never seen one up close before." The little doll could speak alright. She had not stopped for a single breath and Erik's head was spinning from all her questions. His violin? She wanted to see her.

"Alright but you must be very gentle...she is precious to me." He led her by the hand across the balcony and in through the doors to where the violin lay in its case, hoping she could somehow understand what he had said. He picked it up with his left hand, his right still firmly in Bella's grip (although how could that be if hers was inside his?) and motioned for her to sit down on the chair.

"I promise I will be careful...I had a kitten once and she was so tiny and Mama said I had to be really gentle with her because she was so small and could get hurt if I was not." Bella gazed up at the tall, dark haired man before her who had such big warm hands. Something was bothering her but it could wait until she had seen the violin.

Goodness, slow down! She had no problem constructing sentences and she was only six. Perhaps he should take lessons from her. He could not believe what he was about to do but swallowed the fear and tried to trust the innocence of the little creature before him. He laid his beloved violin gently in her lap keeping hold of the neck lest she slip. "Oooh is it a her? It must be because she's so pretty. I like the swirls on the fat bit and she has a neck like a swan. You must be really good and studied really hard because Papa said you were magnifico and he almost never says that." My, she was an intelligent little thing. He had always thought his precious looked a little like a swan too; he the ugly duckling.

"I practise all the time and you are right...she is a "her" and yes she does indeed look like a swan. The swirls are called f-holes because they are shaped like an f and they allow the sound to come out. This is the scroll which is like the head and eyes of the swan." Erik pointed out the different parts to her noticing that she missed nothing, soaked up and processed every little bit of information her gave her.

"You are lucky Signore...Mama sent me to lessons for the piano but my legs are not long enough and my hands are too small to play anything nice because they won't reach." She looked down again at the violin, her thick glossy lashes almost reaching her cheekbones. Her little soft mouth was turned down in a sulky pout, the look of one unhappy with her lot. It was endearing, Erik thought, the image of her huffing because she was not yet big enough for a piano.

"I can understand your frustration however it will not always be so. You will grow and someday your feet will touch the pedals and your fingers will be able to span many keys. You will be able to play anything and that is a wonderful thing to look forward to." He took the violin and placed it back in her case, Bella finally letting her fingers slip from his. Her next question almost delivered him from consciousness.

"What happened your head? Did you fall and hurt yourself? I fell over last week and banged my knee but Mama kissed it better and now it's alright again. There was lot of blood. Did your Mama not kiss it better for you?"

Meg had been sealing the envelope destined for her mother when she heard the music float up the staircase and under her door. Erik was playing! At last. Something had been holding him back all this time and she had only ever heard him tuning the beautiful instrument. This would be such a balm to his soul, something akin to her dancing and he needed it. Quietly and gently she tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs, sitting a few steps from the bottom so that she could indulge in whatever he played. She almost felt like she was intruding but she could not see him...he deserved some privacy for this. She had expected to hear anger and hate but she recognised instead sadness, pain and finally a little hope. She knew the pieces...some of Mozart's earliest sonatas; ones he had written before he was yet ten years old – how appropriate! It was not in the notes that she heard but in the way that Erik had played them. Oh he was wonderful! So unbelievably talented that it sounded to Meg like that violin was designed purely to translate for him. She felt every word. She knew he was purging his soul, cleansing his heart. And then abruptly it stopped.

Creeping down the last few steps to see what had interrupted him, she stole a quick glance around the wall to see what could only be the Pellizzari's youngest standing expectantly on the stone steps outside. Isabella! Oh she was darling! Poor Erik, he would never have had dealings with little people with inquisitive minds. Should she go and rescue him or let him test his wings? She should really help him but something stopped her. It was maybe good for him to do this without her so she would just sit back and observe and try to keep a straight face. She had never seen a look of such utter confusion on his face and she thought she had seen all of them! Watching from her spot behind the wall she saw him take the little girl by the hand and lead her inside. He was actually letting her hold his violin. Oh my goodness! How did she get him to do that? He was explaining about its different parts and the thought struck her how wonderfully patient and kind he was being with her, yet not speaking to her like a normal adult would a child. He was speaking to her as he would another adult and little Isabella was lapping it up. He would be a very good teacher...in fact he already was if she considered her friend and the voice that had been like a rusty hinge before Erik had gotten his hands on it. Then she heard the words that she had secretly feared from the second she had seen Isabella outside the door. "What happened your head?" Oh no! Poor Erik would never been able to handle this...and from a child of all people. It would kill him. She would have to help him now. Before she had a chance, she heard him speak.

How do I do this? How do I say it without hurting the little thing? Erik could not fathom how he would answer her innocent questions without terrifying her completely so he just tried to be honest with her and pray that somehow she would accept it and leave.

"No, I did not fall over and no one had to kiss it better. Bella, it is a little different to your knee. I was born with a sort of bump. The bandage covers it because it looks a little strange." Please let this be enough for her.

"I know just what you mean! I have a mark over my eyebrow – see!" Bella pulled back her fringe and pointed to a tiny birthmark that was no more than a blush the size of Erik's thumbprint. "It's only small but when I started school some of the other girls were mean to me. Mama told me not to listen to them because they were just jealous."

Erik was intrigued by her little story, momentarily distracted from the cause of it. "Why were they jealous?"

"Because silly...that was where the angels kissed me goodbye before I was born! They did not want me to leave but I had to because Mama was waiting for me. None of the other girls had a mark like mine. They were so jealous when I told them and they never made fun of me again. Mama was right. She's always right." Bella delivered her story with the most innocent and heartbreakingly earnest look on her face that Erik almost cried. What a wonderful Mama she had to take that pain away from her before it had a chance to hurt her. He did not even want to think about the woman who had given him life and then taken it away again.

"Maybe that's what happened to you? Maybe the angels liked you so much, even more than they liked me that they just held on so tight that they gave you a bump! Mine is only tiny but they must have really not wanted you to go." Bella was clapping her tiny pudgy hands together with glee as the thought of how lucky her new important friend was to have impressed the angels so much.

Erik had no words...even if there were he could not speak for the lump he was trying in vain to swallow. He was powerless to stop the tears that fell freely, cascading down his right cheek onto his silk vest. She was the angel. A little ray of goodness that had wormed her way up the steps and into his hand. What she had said was beautiful, impossible but beautiful. How simple things are to her? Why could not everyone be like her...and Meg? His little doll, seeing his tears stood up on her chair so she was almost level with him and wrapped her two short arms around his shoulders as far as they would go. "Don't be sad, they really liked you!" She planted a noisy kiss on his bandage covered left cheek and climbed down off her chair. "I have to go now because Papa said I was not to bother you for more than two minutes and it's been much longer than that. Can I come and see her again? Maybe I can meet Signorina Meg next time?" She pointed to the violin as she wandered across to the door.

From somewhere Erik found a voice, perhaps not quite his but a voice all the same. "Yes, of course you can; Signorina Meg will be delighted to meet you next time." He gave his best effort of a smile to the little girl in an attempt to match the beam she was throwing him over her shoulder as she danced out the doors. "Ciao Signore...remember my Mama is always right!" With that she disappeared, skipping down the steps and calling to Marcello for something to eat because she was starving.

Before he had a chance to process what had just happened a series of unmistakable footsteps came to a halt behind him. He felt a warm hand at his shoulder. She had been there all along; he had heard her come ever so quietly down the stairs as he was playing, not so lost in his music that he missed her movements as she tried to stay silent. "Why did you not come and say hello? She wanted to meet you."

"Ah...something told me she had all the company she needed. I think you have just made a friend for life. She is enamoured with your violin...you were very good with her." Meg was not sure how much she should admit to hearing; she did not want to embarrass him and she knew he had been completely thrown by the little girl's explanation of his face. It had made her weep for her friend that he had heard those words and from a child no less! They had such a knack of getting right to the heart of things...everything was easy. There were no preconceived notions, just a simple story and acceptance.

"It is alright Meg, I know you were there all along. You may be light on your feet but you are not wearing your dancing shoes now and as you know I have ears."

"Well then...I happen to agree with her little story...genius I thought! I have a letter to Maman that needs to be posted; I have left it far longer than I should have. She will be beside herself worrying about us. Shall we go out; maybe the queue in the square may be a little shorter and we can finally see St Mark's?" She watched him turn to her, his cheek still moist from the tears he had shed. He put a hand over hers on his shoulder and squeezed; a silent acknowledgement for her presence.

"I was listening to you earlier; you play beautifully." Meg stood back, letting her hand fall as she allowed him to pull his coat on.

Erik flexed his fingers at the end of his coat sleeves. They felt lighter now that he had played something. In fact, his entire being felt a little less burdened now that he had released some of the poison inside him, not to mention his little visit from Bella. That child was a gift. She had completely turned him inside out with her theories and it was without exception the most surprising thing anyone had ever said to him. As for Meg...she liked hearing him play?

"You sound surprised ma petite." He began to fix his cape, swishing it over his shoulders with a flourish and immediately feeling its comforting weight upon his straightening shoulders. Composing his features and flexing his fingers yet again, he turned to face her piercing her with the look that he knew unnerved her to the core. He would not have her think he was a complete mess.

"No. I would not have expected anything less from you Erik." And there he is! She could almost set her watch by him. I know what you are doing my friend but I shall allow it because you need it ...just this once.