Christine looked around. They had been in their new home for three days.
It had been time for Mr Turley and all his friends to move back to London. Summer was drawing to a close.
If you could call this summer…
Christine smiled to herself. She was reasonably comfortable. Erik, of course, had stopped at nothing to make her so. And of course they had friends. Friends had helped with carting boxes in, choosing linen and crockery, and showing her around town.
Now, she was tired. She was enjoying their bedroom though. All this lovely light-coloured furniture. Cream upholstery. It had already been in place.
There was a good-sized window onto the garden. That was unusual, considering these English houses were usually pretty stingy with letting in natural light.
Christine was enjoying London. How could they have been so lucky to land here?
She heard Erik coming up the stairs. Finally, he arrived at the top.
He was holding up reasonably well. All this socializing, though, was driving him batty.
He feared his luck would run out. He feared that he could not trust their friends. He feared their friends would leave any moment, even leaving Christine… and it would all be his fault.
He did this mostly for her.
She saw what he set on the sofa.
"Another box?" she said.
Gulzar had sent various boxes containing Erik's possessions. They had been arriving irregularly.
"Let's see what that blockhead has sent now."
He began to unwrap it. The lid came off. Underneath there were individual parcels, carefully wrapped in soft paper.
"Oh… this looks like women's clothing," said Erik.
Christine gazed fixedly.
She found a smaller box inside. She opened it, her eyes wide with wonder.
The first thing that fell into her hand was a jar of beauty cream.
It was the cream Erik had bought her. Back when she had been in his home at the Opera House. And had had very mixed feelings about being with him.
How it brought her back to those days. It was very different then.
Erik would be at his organ. Furiously pounding out his anguish.
Back then, she was torn between tenderness for him and absolute fear.
Christine sighed. She rubbed some on the palm of her hand. This had comforted her.
While Erik had been bustling about, doing his playing and all that, this cream had reminded her of the natural world up above.
She had never thought it was his attempt to recreate that natural world. She had never thought he might have bought these things in anticipation of joining it.
"It smells of so many good things," she said consideringly. "Rose. Geranium. And… cream! From my childhood."
"You liked it?" He sounded a bit sad.
"I loved it." She kissed him. "Oh, Erik. I'm sorry. I should have told you how much I loved it back then."
Erik gave her a lopsided smile. Then, he dove deeper into the box.
Christine unearthed an ivory comb. This was one of her most beautiful pieces. It had a carved handle featuring a delicate portrayal of intertwined roses. In between the rose twigs were cameo relief carvings of trysting lovers.
And goodness gracious… here was her lavender perfume. In that cute little bottle with the pump. And then she found them. Her silver, embossed hairbrush and mirror.
"As I said, you have wonderful taste. Much better than that wretch."
Erik just smiled. He was very busy. He was unwrapping a soft parcel.
He opened it. She saw some of her apparel.
Nightdresses soft and fine as gossamor. A robe that she well-remembered. Chemises that rippled into his hand like water. Delicate lace corsets. Everything chosen with her comfort, size, and taste in mind.
As the opera ghost, Erik had had plenty of opportunity to browse her costumes in the dressing room. He had known her size. And he had watched her undress. He had had his spy holes. He had known her taste in underwear before she told him.
Christine blushed. She saw the next thing he revealed. A box of sanitary pads.
"Gulzar has a maid," he said. "I insisted that she did the packing of your things. Don't worry. He wouldn't have seen this."
Christine sighed. Well at any rate, it had been very thoughtful of Erik to buy that for her. And the sanitary belt, and sling. Very embarrassing, but necessary. And yes, she had needed to use them whilst down there.
Erik smiled. He briefly rubbed her shoulder, knowing she was embarrassed. Then he got to a long, silk pair of bloomers.
He gazed at them adoringly. She laughed, and tapped his cheek. "You are so predictable."
Erik hardly even heard her. He was gazing at them. And then he gazed up at her, and smiled.
He fiddled further down in the box. He was looking for something else. They both knew what.
He got to a likely parcel. Christine saw him open it. She saw his hands shake.
She felt tingles. These were emotions she did not want to face.
He looked at it grimly.
"My wedding dress," she breathed.
Tears ran down his cheeks.
Christine got up. She stood over Erik, and guided his face against her hip. She scratched the back of his head, trying to calm him.
He rested heavily against her.
For a moment Christine felt anxious. She knew Erik still had a lot of anger. But then, he had a right to it.
He had never married her like that. It had been her practical burgundy dress instead. They may have been carried away with joy.
But it was not that wedding, with that lingerie and that white dress, that he had been visualizing.
Some things had been meant to be. Her staying with him wilfully, in that dress. Her being at his side, sweetly and patiently, during his last days in the lair. Her journeying with him out of that sewer.
And making a home with him, on the outskirts of Paris. Her supporting him as he eased into a life in the French countryside.
They were all his fantasies. And they had never happened.
She rubbed his back. "Oh, darling. It's all right."
He shifted slightly against her hip. His voice was muffled, as he clasped her behind.
"You're mine, aren't you?"
"For life. I'll look after you. I'll make love to you. Don't worry."
"I hate Raoul," he said spitefully. "If we meet him again… I'm going to strip him, and strangle him with his posh trousers."
Christine almost did not care about Raoul's life anymore. She stroked his head.
"Look, darling. It's all right."
"Oh, Christine. I was such a bastard to you in those days. I was so, so mean. You don't know how sorry I am."
"I do."
She continued to stroke him. Erik leaned into her, weeping. He had to be babied and petted.
"I'll do a bad job of looking after you," he said, crying piteously. "I'm such a fool."
"You saved my life. You've made me happy. You've gotten me a home."
"I didn't. Our… your friends got it. They like you. Not me."
"They admire you, respect you and like you. They like you for your wit, your charm. Your sense of humour. And how kind and generous you have been to them."
Christine knew that if she answered all protestations, she would end up completely exhausted.
"Come on. Up onto the bed. I think you need petting."
Christine undid his tie. He sighed with protest. She gently removed his waistcoat and shirt, and pulled down his trousers. He sighed with relief, though, as she laid him out on the bed.
Christine pulled his pants right the way off. She stroked the spots between his bottom and his thighs.
"I'm ugly."
"Don't start that, Erik." She smiled. "Didn't you know that even in those days, I found you attractive?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I felt guilty."
"Guilty?"
"Guilty that I should find a man attractive, in the way I did you." She circled her finger over his left buttock. "I didn't find Raoul attractive like that. I wanted to know you intimately. But I denied it to myself."
"I wish you'd told me."
"I know. If only I could have gotten over my fear."
Christine massaged him. He began to calm down.
"Look, Christine," he said after a while. "Poor, lonely Erik would have loved to know Christine felt that way. You should have told him."
"My dear. Well, it was you who made me realize that older men can be attractive."
"Oh, you should have told me, you should have…ah-aah." He could not pretend he was not enjoying this. He smiled.
"Now that's better, isn't it?" she said.
She gave his back a deep, hard massage. It was always satisfying to release his tension. She loved making Erik happy.
Afterwards she drew a few circles on his skin. He loved that best of all. She ran her nails up his arms, over his shoulders, on his neck, and down his back.
"Ah-aah. That feels so good."
He stretched, slow and languid. She noticed his face was flushed with pleasure. His eyes were glazed, his expression soft. She felt quite as relieved as he did.
"Now, it's no more whingeing from you," she said cheekily.
"When are you going to touch my arse?"
Christine smiled. He was becoming more forward. "When you've been good." She gave him an affectionate slap in that area.
He giggled. "You've been a bit slow today. You really should be spanked."
Christine felt excited.
"Please do!"
"But first, you've got to attend to me."
Christine pulled his arse cheeks apart. She wriggled down so she was level with his derriere. Then she tenderly took his scrotum into her mouth. He mewled, and spread himself out.
Christine slid her tongue all the way down his sack. Then she got to his sensitive perineum, and flicked her tongue, back and forth, against that. He writhed underneath her. He was jellylike and helpless. But so happy.
Christine wetted her finger on his cock. She gently massaged it back and forth. Then she slowly brought her hand over his sack. Then right over his perineum. Then she slowly levelled her finger into his arse.
He lifted his arse in the air, waiting for the climax.
When she got it up there, he began to writhe. She knew by now, so well, how he liked it done.
Finally he broke. A howl and a loud scream as he shuddered.
"Ah, that feels good doesn't it." Christine smiled knowingly.
She stroked his head, and his back, as he recovered. He began to snuggle up to her. Christine was relieved to see him in very good spirits.
"Christine?" he said after a while.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you take your chemise off?"
She laughed.
"Oh. Completely forgot."
The sound of the organ reverberated through the house.
Christine closed her eyes, and listened. It was like going back in time.
To back when she had been that frightened child. But there had been this man who cared.
Back then, her very human Erik had said he was an angel.
She quietly slipped into the parlour, bringing his coffee. Erik reached an arm for her. Christine sat with him on the stool.
Christine leaned against him, doing her needlepoint. Erik was acting like a child with its favourite toy. There was a comfortable fire in this room.
It was good to see things how they ought to be.
He sang. Christine joined him. It was nice to sing happily. Just for the joy of it. Just to be themselves.
He had no fear that she'd reject him. And she had no fear of him, either.
Afterwards, he tenderly stroked her face. He was still anxious about something.
"It's hard," he said, "to not think someone is going to hear us. And know who we are."
"Well even if Raoul finds us… we tried hard. We've built as much of a life as we could."
He smiled.
They went upstairs. But even as they snuggled into bed, Raoul kept going through her mind.
Would there ever be a time when they never had to utter the dreaded R word again?
Their lives were comfortable now, true.
But she just had the feeling that Raoul would not stop. He wanted to prove a point. When it came to being childish, Raoul was actually worse than her husband was.
Christine smiled to herself. Childish behaviour was something she would tolerate from her husband. But not from Raoul.
The next day Christine was living the high life. She was having a great time.
It was just an outing for her and the girls. They went and saw a panto at Drury Lane. And then they got together for pastries… way too many, actually.
It was lovely to see Florie. And Essie. Madge, and Dorothea, and all her other new friends.
She kept thinking of Erik. It was nice to know he was waiting patiently for her at home. So reliable.
She knew he had been agitated about her going out without him. But Madge, their next door neighbour, had reassured him.
It was Madge who had sold them the house. She had delivered Christine safely in her own carriage today. Madge had a reliable driver. He was more reliable than Madge was at the moment, now she was drunk.
Christine smiled about that. Madge was having such a good time. But Christine was not too worried about that. There were plenty of cabs. Getting home would not be a major drama.
Outside it was rather frosty. Christine suddenly saw another figure enter through the glass café door.
"Nettie! You missed the panto, and everything!"
Their friend entered to such loud exclamations. She smiled, and shut the door. She shrugged off her fur coat.
"Patricia is with a friend," she said. "She won't mind. I thought I'd come here for some saucy girl talk. Things that I can't say in front of her."
Nettie had not been seen around Bournemouth much in the last few weeks. And she had only just arrived in London. Christine had not had the chance to sit down and chat with her… well, not since that morning tea.
It was nice to catch up with her now. But her friend seemed secretive. Eventually Nettie asked if she could come home with her.
"Oh, er… my husband won't like that." Christine giggled. "He'll want to have me all to himself as soon as I walk in the front door."
"It's just that I really have to talk to you," said Nettie urgently.
"What about?"
Some time later, they were heading for home. There was something soothing about being in a gently swaying carriage.
However, Christine felt sick.
So, Raoul had made it to England. And he was nosing around her friend. Telling Nettie to inform on her.
There were so many things to think about. Raoul was still keen on his case. And although some had left, he was still employing hitmen.
Raoul had said terrible things. He had said he wanted to kill Erik. And what he wanted to do to her wasn't very pleasant either.
Christine wondered if they would ever be safe. She trusted Nettie when the girl said she hadn't given them away. But she did wonder, though, if Nettie would still be their friend.
Nettie was sitting quietly next to her. She turned to her earnestly.
"So sorry this has happened to you, Christine."
Christine was madly twisting her fingers.
"You understand about my husband, don't you?"
Christine had quickly defended Erik. She had given the usual lie as to why he had killed Dury.
The problem was, Raoul had been in Nettie's ear. He had had plenty of time to tell her everything that happened in the lair. He would have gone through the full story of all his interactions with Erik and Christine. And everything Gulzar had said, too, about Erik's past.
"You didn't listen, did you?"
"I think I just switched off."
"The sad thing about my husband," said Christine, "is that he has an incredibly tender heart. He Erik has always needed love so badly. And he's the sort of person whose feelings are so… so easily hurt."
A few tears dribbled from her eyes. She was nearly home now.
Nettie just patted her hand. "I feel very bad for your poor husband, Christine. I'll keep sticking by you."
Christine sighed. "Well at any rate, I agree. My husband ought to hear this from you. It's always our fate, Nettie. Being pursued."
"And you're prepared to do this?"
"It's my fate to be with him. To look after him, and to likewise, have him guard me. To go through life together. We should never have separated." She shrugged, and smiled. "I love him. I'll take whatever comes with it."
She was so relieved to move through her gates. Then they were in the driveway, staring up at her home.
Erik stood, frozen, on the doorstep. "Good evening, Mr Labrosse," said Nettie.
"Good evening, Miss Cockroft."
Christine almost laughed for a moment. Although he did like Nettie, Erik was not happy to have an unexpected house guest. All he wanted was to settle down with Christine. Get into his robe and sit in the parlour with her, and play to her, and make love to her.
All that would have to wait. Christine was dismayed too, to tell the truth.
But he never once showed his disappointment. He was being so unfailingly gracious. Christine had to give him points for that.
Then Erik turned to Christine.
"Oh, are you all right?" Christine thought that he may as well be her father. He gently led her in, much concerned.
He made the coffee while they waited in the parlour. Christine sighed, and sat down. She waited to deliver this next part of his destiny.
Erik had already got a good fire going. She could smell soft, damp leaves and petals, for he had been airing the house. And the fragrant wood burning in the grate.
"He is such a good homemaker, your husband," said Nettie wonderingly.
Christine smiled proudly.
"Yes, he loves having a real home."
They waited quietly.
As Erik came in with the tray, she had to tell him.
Erik preferred his coffee strong and black. He did have a penchant for sugar though. He always put way too much in. Christine knew very well about his sweet tooth.
He sat back with his black coffee in hand. Christine sipped hers, which had lots of milk.
She gulped. "Guilliame…" It felt strange addressing him thus. Especially since Nettie would know his preferred name now anyway. But it felt safer, somehow, so she used that name. "Nettie has something to tell you."
And then, Nettie told him the story.
Nettie did not tell Erik, like she had Christine, that she had slept with Raoul. But Christine knew Erik would read between the lines.
At the first mention of Raoul, he looked horrified. He pulled Christine to him. He made a gentle prison for her with his hands.
Christine could not have escaped had she tried. So she just laid with her head on his chest. She waited for Nettie to tell the rest of the story.
"So the way it ended…" said Nettie. "He is moving to London now. But he doesn't know where I'll be. I did not give him my forwarding address." She sighed.
"Pray to God he doesn't find us."
"Mr Labrosse," she said, "with us as neighbours, you're safer. That's what our group has always been about. Looking out for each other. And he doesn't know you're in London. That should be an advantage."
Erik sighed. "I think he's guessed already."
"Well I hate him, anyway." Nettie sipped some coffee. "That sissy, posh, small-cocked…"
Erik raised his eyebrows. Christine had not expected to see him smile. "What?"
Nettie blushed. "Maybe I should not have said that in this company."
Erik looked like a child listening to a good story.
"Oooh. Tell me more."
In spite of everything, Christine laughed. "See?" Erik looked very smug. "I doubt whether he could have pleased you."
In the end, all three of them were defeated by hysterics. Eventually Nettie sat up, choking. She attempted to drink a bit more coffee.
Erik's eyes were wide, his lips grinning proudly, his chin thrust out. Christine had never seen him look so confident among company. "Ah." She nudged him affectionately. "That cheered you up, didn't it?"
This, at least, kept them in nervous high spirits. They bade Nettie goodbye at about six.
Then, they turned back into the house. Christine was overly emotional.
She felt Erik gently undoing the buttons at the back of her neck. He removed her dress, corset and other restrictive clothing. Then, he left her in the parlour.
Christine sighed. She laid out on the sofa. Erik returned with water and a washcloth. He made her naked, put her in his lap, and washed her.
Christine appreciated that. It saved her getting the water herself. And she had had a big day. She sighed.
Erik dressed her in one of the nightdresses he had bought her, long ago. Then he knelt at her feet. "Stay safe, for me."
"I will, husband. I will."
As he carried her upstairs she felt a bit of fear pincing her. They were so happy now. She would not let Raoul ruin it.
Even if they had a few more weeks, it would have been worth it.
But at any rate, she would have hated to see Erik's fragile happiness disturbed. That saddened her more than the thought of having her own life wrecked.
He laid her down on the bed. Then he combed her hair. She sighed. They would hold onto happiness… while they had it. No matter how quick it might be snatched away.
